#Iris Pyre lives

[fashion-noodle]

My life has become so surreal.

#i stopped rping a burlesque dancer and just became one #not pretend anymore #Iris Pyre lives #still no substance abuse tho #not looking to change that

[poke-nom]

Day two in Lilycove!

We had breakfast in the B&B that was absolutely AWESOME, even though Iris tried to steal the eggs from the kitchen. I'm suspecting something deeper here but no use pushing her.

In better news - We visited the Safari Zone! Due to the restrictions I could only have one Pokemon out at a time, and Iris refuses to wear a leash, so she couldn't be out while walking, but Orb really enjoyed rolling around in the mud. I saw a Xatu with two tiny Natu! They seemed remarkably calm considering I was a human so close to them. I think I might have spotted the tail of a Girafarig as well but it was hard to be sure. Absolutely lovely area with incredible nature. I must have hiked at least 10km.

We're going back to Lilycove now and I would love to catch a contest this evening. Tomorrow I'm considering going to Mt. Pyre. I'm not religious but I know some of my family and their Pokémon lived here so I'd like to see if I can find them. (And maybe spot a Vulpix - they're such gorgeous creatures, seeing them in the wild is a treat.)

#aspen speaks #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #rotomblr #real pokemon #iris the sylveon #orb the spheal

[voidselfshipp]

Too Sweet

Cw:mentions of blood,implications of Gore,slaughter, war, mania attacks + ptsd flashbacks.

Summary: during one of their sieges, The Mechanisms split off to take care of the occupying forces of King Cole's army. One of them gets too close to Jerico and Tim sees red.

>no rbs, please.

Adrenaline surged through tims body as he laid there hands dripping with blood, a soldier dead before him.

His body shakes a manic grin on his face as he looks at the bloody corpse, laugh starting to echo from his throat. The world around him is a blurr,his eyes are wide and his pupils are small dots in his gorgeous brown iris.

With shaking hands, he lets go of his victims throat-- I told you not to touch her--He muttered with a shaky unstable voice,laughter soon leaves him.

"Thats- thats what he gets- thats what they get for- for touching her! Haha! Nobody touches my- My girlf- my friend" he thinks, slowly straightening up from his half bowed position.

--Hah-- He scoffs, smoothing his beautiful brown curly hair with his bloodstained hand-- hah, wanker...you really thought...you could hurt her

Around him the world is Fire,burning and crumbling buildings, dead bodies all around, vehicles no more than scrap and black smoke clouds rising from the pyres up to the Sky

The Mechanisms had come here to fight against an occupying force, one of the soldiers tried to stab Jerico in the neck...and Tim saw red and ripped the soldier appart with hands and teeth.

--Tim...--calls out jerico,lowering her sniper rifle. She grabs one of his hands Gently,it smothers with blood-- Tim im okay

He turns to her,eyes still wide and fingers twitching-- Doll....doll-- he throws himself at her,cupping her cheeks and looking for any scratches--Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do- do I need to call Marius?! Please tell me youre okay- i cant- I cant lose you,I cant lose you like bertie...!

She takes his wrists and says--Tim, Tim its okay im okay,im safe

Tims eyes look around her face and body,his hands pressing against her waist,her shoulders and her hips,staining her clothes with crimson sploches.

--Its okay,im not hurt,you saved me--She cooed, bringing Him in for a tight hug. His forehead falls limply on her shoulder as she strokes up and down his spine.

A shaky breath leaves him, his twitching hands unsure where to rest. Even when he tries he accidentally tugs at her clothes,gasping for air.

--I cant lose you,I cant lose you-- He whispers,tears threatening to spill-- dont die- please dont die...dont die on me I cant-- with a quivering Lower lip-- I cant- I love you so much, please dont leave me...dont leave me forever

His words take her by surprise,she squeezes him into a tight hug and his hands finally settle on her Lower back--I cant live without you--He mutters, hot tears falling down his face and onto the exposed shoulder of his companion.

--Easy,Tim. You saved me, see? 'M okay-- she promised-- see? Im alright --He nodds weakly-- c'mon lets go back to the ship

Trying to tug him along, he stops her by not moving and squeezing her. Shes quick go get the memo and nodds.

--Oooooor we can stay a little longer, thats alright too--She added, understanding he needs more time.

Both stand there among the rubble of the crumbling,blazen And charcoal blackened city. Civilian,soldier and resistance laid dead across the floor with blood and ash mixed into a paste of death, they only Hear the distant Shouts of the ongoing battle,the crackling of the pyres anf the ocassional crumble of debries.

Tim can only concentrate on that orchestra of destruction and Demise,the images of Berties death passing through his head over and over again. Its vivid,its Like hes there again holding his best friend in his arms.

--It can't be said I'm an early bird--She sings softly--It's ten o'clock before I say a word

Baby, I can never tell

How do you sleep so well

It catches tims attention, slowly bringing him back to earth,to present time,to safety.

--You keep tellin' me to live right

To go to bed before the daylight

But then you wake up for the sunrise

You know you don't gotta pretend

Baby, now and then-- jerico puts her hands on his biceps and rocks Him side to side softly.

Silken voice fills his ears and eases his heart and mind,it wraps around his soul like a blanket.

--Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake

Smellin' like a bonfire, lost in a haze?-- she continues and he slowly humms along--

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

But while in this world

A shaky sigh leaves him,his body relaxing and laying on her for support-- I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three-- both entone,tims voice slowly gaining more strength---

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

I take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

She smiles and he joins In with those side to side movements. One hand on her waist and the other holding hers,fingers entwined as if both were dancing.

--You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me-- He sings at her, as if he didnt deserve this softness.

He pulls her to waltz,turning slowly. Tim hasnt moved his head and he'd rather not, he feels safe in her embrace.

The world still burns around them with the ash falling like a tragic snowfall, the air smells of smoke and gunpowder.

--I aim low

I aim true and the ground is where I go --He takes the lead,singing to her,meaning the words--

I work late where I'm free from the phone

And the job gets done

But you worry some, I know

But who wants to live forever, babe?

You treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate

The rest of you like you're the TSA

I wish I could go along

Babe, don't get me wrong

His voice gets flirty again as it usually is, she feels him smile against her skin and his head rises just enough so their eyes meet.

They spend a few more minutes dancing and singing softly. When he feels better and back with his boots on the ground, he looks at her and says--C'mon,lets go back before the guys freak out

And leading her by the hand they return to the Aurora. The Group asked if everything is okay and why they took so long to get back, and jer just dismisses it.

Nobody questions why Tim leads jeri to the showers, or why they spend so much time in there.

She scrubbs off the blood from his fingers,the same song they were singing now playing from a radio she took into the room.

《You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait

Until that day》

He watches her with tired eyes--I- you dont gotta do it...

--Its okay,I want to take care of you--She answers, taking his still bloody hands and kissing his knuckles.

Tim sighs under his breath and softly says--I dont...I dont deserve it

--Yes you do,dont say that.

In silence he lets her scrub off the blood from his hands and his mouth,then comb the hair products on his brown locks that now stick to his face

《I'd rather take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

I take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me》

His hands rest on her waist and he helps her out a little,as much as his shaken up nervous system could allow.

--Sorry...sorry I cant be of no more help-- He mutters,voice weak and tired.

Jeri shakes her head-- Dont be,its okay

After the shower they change into something more comfortable, casual "at home" clothes to unwind. Then,they go to the 'livingroom' of the ship where everyone was.

Its not only so everyone could take stock of one another to make sure nobody was missing so it calmed their anxiety, but also a way to make everyone unwind and feel safe.

Merchant has Tim leaning on her shoulder,drifting off to sleep while she crochets Him a small headband with a sprout growing out of It

Nastya is playing her violin, the toy soldier and Ivy play checkers. Raphaella and Ashes are leaning on one another on another couch,asleep. Meanwhile,Marius, brian and Jhonny are playing poker.

Its good to see Tim resting up and feeling better, he was a very light sleeper and the few things that couldnt wake him up was Nastya's violin,quiet chatter and the purr of the octokittens.

Like that,the crew settles down and relaxes after a long day of slaughter.

#platonic f/o: gunpowder Tim #t.m (band) s/i #cw blood #tw blood #tw fire mentions #cw fire mentions #tw mania #cw mania #cw flashback #tw flashback #ask to tag #cw feelings of unworthiness #tw feelings of unworthiness #tw feelings of unworthyness #cw feelings of unworthyness

[sanctificetur]

kieran was rather wary of rand, having seen the red-haired boy hold his bow with a white feathered arrow aimed to his direction — a shot to the heart. he had seen the sight rather clearly, light splintering through. he did not recognise this boy as one of the wild hunt. yet he had come to the hunt later on than mark, his father — the unseelie king — placing him there as a sign of good faith.

rand looks cautiously at windspear, who was now chewing on grass a little distance away, still strongly thinking it may be a monster out to savage him to pieces. trollocs could come in different shapes and sizes after all. although he had met an ogier once who he assumed to be a trolloc in first appearance.

the horse flicks its tail restlessly while chewing, sensing rand’s presence and not liking him at all — this human almost shot me! it decided to have its eye on him all the while, black iris shadowing its yellow.

peering closer to windspear from where he was, as mark expands further on about the horses, rand is still scared although his breathing and heartbeat was a little more steady.

he then thinks about the time he saw a draghkar — having thought it was a giant bat at first, similar and swift in body and movement to this horse ; thom had described whom the creature was, referencing the war that had formed nichevo’ya darkness.

as mark explains to kieran that rand was not a threat, he thinks to their time together so far with gathering and building from wood.

rand had said to him, eyes sparking in interest and a little more at ease with the other’s presence, ‘ what is the wild hunt like? and living in the forest seems peaceful. ‘ as he starts pinning cloth to a wood pyre, it looked like a miniature yacht — shining a light yellow. a fair bit of the wood gathered in the forest and on the pyre was quite peeling desolate, as the forest had suffered an ongoing onslaught of drought and flood for over a year — the darkness having insidiously blackened the tracery of the bark. yet they made do with the best they could — finally finished with the chore of gathering — searching, searching forevermore. and now they were just building from where they are right now.

mark reminiscences about the other’s question, of the hunt. the crudely carved runes on his back — along with whipping him — done by some of the darker fey when he initially came in still both ached harshly and left him quite hollow simultaneously — Shadowhunters and faeries not liking each other by nature. they had also punched his jaw, filling his mouth with blood, and when he held out an arm to defend himself, they continued on until…until he was crumpled inert on the white snowy field. the wounds had left scars…

the hunt had also brought out a wild freedom sprinkling through his veins, with the riding through the colours of the sky. yet kieran… he had helped bring out the colour in this raw cruel but beautiful wilderness. he remembered he was quite shaky in speaking to kieran at first — perhaps more so? he was a gentry of the unseelie after all. he supposed kieran had seemed sometimes cruel, yet he had also helped him feel less scared ; explaining a bit more about the faerie customs and helping him adjust to their ways ( ‘ don’t fall into the water, ‘ kieran says, smiling a little ).

kieran’s photo of him looking down at the forest in reminiscencing thought stayed with him too.

the reddening dusk now slowly shone to a light purple, as it grew darker — the sunset deepening to the horizon.

‘ the forest can be quite peaceful,’ mark says after a moment, in his pause for reflection. ‘ and the hunt can be as well, with riding through the sky with them. ‘

rand sees the turmoil mark is in, wondering about what exactly happened. it was a struggle for rand to understand how these horses — especially of draghkar — monsters that had killed many men — would be trusted by the fey…whom looked like himself and others ; yet were they human or not? yet mark was human, despite also being fey ( the dark war was known relatively well to him, heard upon travelling — and hearing stories about life within lands quite often. and remembering about the cold peace, and hearing all fey were mean and selfish. )

he had discovered over the course of knowing him, that mark was quite nice in his own settling into chat with him — as more of an understanding that he was the only one who understands in exploring and is in complete embodiment of his custom.

#rand ic. #writing.

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

Just Let Me Hold You

Summary: When Y/N goes through an unspeakable loss, Dean doesn’t know what else to do, but hold her. 

Based on the song "Let Me Hold You” by Josh Krajcik (lyrics italicized).

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, Personal loss, all sorts of pain

It was supposed to be an easy hunt. 

You and your twin brother Matthew had been hunting since you were little. He was the one that taught you how to swing a machete and he had been your partner in crime since before you could even remember. You found out quickly that the only one you could count on in this world was your brother. That was until you met Dean and Sam.

When you first met up with the Winchesters on a random case, you realized quickly that you had a strikingly similar upbringing to the brothers. Both of your fathers seemed to be obsessed with the hunt, and your father had put a lot of pressure on Matthew to protect you, much like John had to Dean. So hunting together just fit. And your personalities fit even better. Matthew was loud and outgoing like Dean, and his knowledge of classic rock and cars kept the older Winchester on his toes. You, on the other hand, were quiet and introspective, much like Sam, and both of you were often content to listen to Dean and Matthew than carrying the conversation yourself.

You weren’t with the brothers constantly, but more often than not you’d cross paths. Partnering with the Winchesters was the easiest decision you and Matthew ever made. Sam and Dean had your back and you and Matthew had theirs. A match-made in heaven. Until it wasn’t. 

The hunt was sure to be simple. A pack of wolves were no problem for 4 seasoned hunters, and Dean kept making fun of Sam for wanting a “plan,” but he quieted down when you had agreed that a plan was better. You didn’t speak up much, and when you did, Dean tended to listen attentively. It was one of the things you loved about all three boys. They appreciated and respected your opinion.

They had driven in the Impala on the way to the abandoned barn where you followed a stray pack member to earlier in the day. Matthew and Dean argued about who was the better guitar player: Jimi Hendrix or Slash, Matthew leaning across the bench seat animatedly, throwing his arms around to make his point. Sam listened on with a smirk and every now and then Dean caught your eye in the rear-view mirror, his mouth crooking into a grin. They were just getting to deep cut classics when the Impala stopped outside the barn, and Sam and Matthew revisited their plan, so that everyone knew their part. Dean rolled his eyes as Sam told him his role, and you hid a small giggle. With the plan decided, everyone got out of the car and grabbed their weapon of choice. As he dug in the trunk, you snuck a quick kiss to Matthew’s cheek whispering, “be safe Matty,” using the childhood nickname he only kind of hated. This time though, he smiled in return and gave you a quick wink, taking off after Sam toward the back of the barn.

It was supposed to be an easy hunt.

You and Dean were meant to take out the wolves just within the first door and Matthew and Sam would bring up the rear taking care of any stragglers. You always liked hunting with Dean because he had a way about him that always made you feel protected.

Dean took the lead taking care of two wolves right inside the door, blocking you slightly from heading inside. You nudged him a bit so you could take the right, hearing a few shots from the back of the barn where Matthew and Sam were. You shot the wolf snarling at you directly in the chest when you dropped to your knees, a pain deep in your chest, making you call out for your brother. Everyone always said the same thing about twins, but it was true. The moment you felt Matthew’s life leave his body, you felt like only half of a person. Like you had been killed, the other half of you leaving with your twin. You could hear Sam calling for you as you crawled toward Matthew’s familiar grey hoodie, ignoring the carnage around you, garnering Dean’s attention as he fought a wolf off. You heard Dean sharply calling to you, but you knelt over Matthew’s lifeless body and waited for your brother’s brown eyes to give you a wink, his signature move. But the chocolate brown of his iris’ were dull and flat, and you couldn’t look at him any longer. You closed your eyes against the pain, grabbing onto Matthew’s hand. You wouldn’t leave his side. Not ever.

The hunter’s funeral was quick. It took both Sam and Dean to pry you away from Matthew so they could prepare him for the fire. Dean looked at you, his eyes dark and red rimmed, but you stared on as he dropped the lighter. You watched the flames lick across Matthew’s body, taking away your only light in this world, but as your brother burned you felt absolute nothingness, and resisted the urge to throw yourself onto your twins burning body.

Your heart can't take anymore.

Dean and Sam watched you intently, both brothers flanking one of your sides, and you felt thankful for the strength of the brothers, but you had no idea how to carry on without Matthew by your side. Your second chance was gone. You're barely hanging on. You're tired of being strong, and you don't know where to run anymore. 

Dean brought you suddenly out of your thoughts as he gently draped his arm around your shoulder, and you realized the coals were beginning to cool under what was left of your other half. You shrugged out of Dean’s grasp, and walked away from the pyre back toward the car, content to simply fall into the back seat of the Impala and not think anymore. 

The ride back to the bunker was silent. A million thoughts rushed through your mind, mostly what you would do next and what this life would bring, but you brushed each thought aside to focus on the mission ahead of you. You were out of the car before it was even fully stopped in the garage, and stumbled down the stairs silently to the room you and Matthew had once shared. It was stupid, but you couldn’t stand being away from your brother, so Dean and Sam put in a bunk bed set up for when you and Matthew would stay at the bunker. You had planned on spending the night here after the werewolf hunt. 

The weight of it all hit you all at once and suddenly, you couldn’t handle anything anymore, and fell to your knees in the open doorway a heartbreaking sob catching in the back of your throat. You heard shuffling behind you, but the tears were coming too quickly for your broken heart to handle and all you could hear were broken words streaming from your open mouth. 

“No, no, no, no, no, I can’t, I can’t.” You sobbed into the open doorway, clutching your heart as if you had been the one to have it ripped out by the rogue werewolf that no one had seen. The images flashed through your mind on repeat as you watched Matthew collapse to the hard ground, hand slowly raising to the hole in his chest. “I can’t.” You whispered, your throat on fire from screaming and sobbing into the dark room.

Sam and Dean watched on, each lost in the agony of the situation, but Dean fell swiftly to his knees beside you, as Sam clung onto the sob that was threatening to rip his throat open as well. 

Dean reached for you, and you clung to his flannel begging him silently to hold you together. To help you. To take away the pain of it all. You didn’t know how to help yourself right now and it was all too much.

“I wanna take away the hurt,” Dean whispered to you, holding you close to him, smoothing your hair down your back. “But I just don't have the words...” You couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your face as you clung to the older Winchester, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you shook uncontrollably at the thought of carrying on without your brother by your side. As you thought about living as half a person.

“Just let me hold you” Dean stated gently, holding you tight in his arms to ease the tremors wracking through your body. “It’s all that I can do tonight.”

#SPN gif #spn fan fiction #spn fangirl #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #SPN FANDOM #spn famdom #SPN Family #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #SUPERNATURAL GIFS #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #fanfiction #fanfic

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “This is War.”

This arc is going to be exciting, I hope you guys like it. 

“Commander, the Burg have broken through the defense Nexus and are making siege on the Gromm homeworld. We have sent ships to supplement them, but we won't be able to last much longer. How soon can you arrive.?”

“Immediately chairwoman. Give me the change to mobilize the fleet, and we will come  drop in to assist. Have some of your your cruisers sent in with shield generators. We would be more combat effective, if all our time was not spent in maneuvers.”

“It will be done commander.”

“One more thing, chairwoman.”

“Yes commander.” 

“Get me a forward report of battle progress, I want numbers, estimates, power outputs, weapons, anything you can give me, I want to know about it.”

“You will have it, Commander.”

The hologram disappeared, and Commander Vir pointed to one of the communications specialists, “You, get the fleet online, immediately.”

“Yes sir.” 

There was a moment of verbal silence as the room was filled with the distant clattering of feet thundering through the lower decks preparing for battle stations.

Four young soldiers sat in the corner of the room wide eyed and nervously watching the proceedings unfold as their insides churned. 

What a day to be a new recruit.

Bright blue light erupted around the room, and fifteen figures stepped out of the ether in various stages of wakefulness and or dress.

“Commander.” One of the men Said salluting, he was older maybe in his early to mid fifties though he looked better than a lot of men twice his age 

“Captain Eklend, Koslov, Ho, Silva, Bassi, you five are active?”

“Yes, Sir.” They chorused

“What this is about?”

“War, Captain, The Burg have perpetrated an act of war against the GA. You five are needed immediately with my ship on the front line. The rest of you, prepare yourselves for standby. I don't want to put all my eggs in one basket.”

“An act of war!”

“Yes ,they are attempting to invade the Gromm homeworld.”

“What reason could they have-”

“Their reasons don’t matter for now. For the moment we focus on providing support to the Gromm and the GA. Have your crews ready as soon as possible, and initiate an instant warp. I know it will be rough on the coolant systems, but if you back charge that energy into the rail guns and cannons, that we should be able to arrive prepared. I want jets ready to provide in-atmosphere air support if necessary and as instantly as possible. Am I understood.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alert me as soon as you are ready, and make it quick. My people will have the coordinates to yours immediately “

“Yes, Commander/” Fifteen salutes, and fifteen holograms gone dark.

Commander Vir turned to the bridge crew, “Prepare for an instant warp, like I was saying before, make sure you back charge the rail guns with the excess energy put off by the core. We don’t want to smoke ourselves out with the heat.”

Turning, he took a seat in his chair, and despite his clothing, a star-wars T-shirt and a pair of heelies, no one would have assumed he was anything other than the commander. A door clattered behind them, and the small blue Drev from earlier burst through the door and ran across the deck to her seat.

“Sunny-”

“Yes! Preparing to back charge the railguns, commander. Loading bunker busting rounds, and loading flairs.”

“Good.” He barked.

With one hand he reached over and toggled the Comm switch.

His voice once relegated to this room, now echoed down the halls with a commanding echo, “Crew of the harbinger, this is your Commander speaking. At this moment the Burg have declared war on the GA and are attempting to overtake the Gromm planet for its strategic location within the GA. All of you are to report to your battle stations immediately and prepare for war. All vehicles, flying or otherwise, should be ready for takeoff. I want marines prepared to to insert by drop ship at a moment’s notice. All non military personnel are to return to their quarters, or a safe room away from the outer hull of the ship. Please make sure to go over any and all escape pod procedures in case of an emergency…..”

There was a moment of solemn silence.

“I understand that this is our first military engagement, I understand that you may be frightened, angry or even shocked, but I make a promise to you now, that I will do whatever I can to keep all of you and every last member of earth, and the GA safe. If you follow me in this goal I guarantee, there is no army, no species, no force save deity who can stop us. My fellow humans, and my brothers and sisters Drev,... let us show them what it means to wage war.”

He shut off the comm jaw set face staring forward.

With one hand, he reached up and pulled off the eyepatch revealing an inhuman mechanical replacement underneath.

“Commander, Captain  Kozlov is ready for warp.”

“As is Captain Bassi.”

“Captains Eklend, and Ho. Have reported in.”

“Captain Silva is ready, Commander.”

“Than we warp in five, four, three, two, one….”

***

The burg Commander stood at the head of her ship pincers clicking in great pleasure as she watched another one of the GA ships fall under her onslaught. 

Their shields were powerful, but their weapons were measly.

Their scientists had known this for a while. The GA were soft creatures born of government and economics and not of chaos like her people . They would rather, sit back and defend themselves like a wounded Curdling licking its wounds tan to stand and fight, and now they had insulted her people one last tie. 

Her previous successor, had failed in his mission, one that should have been easy considering their ability to exploit the GA’s soft and trusting laws, but he had lost his temper and given himself away before the end.

However, the time for stealth was long past, now it was a time for war. For the past few years, since their withdrawal from GA peace talks )she chittered her mandibles disgusted at the very thought they had once been willing to parlay with such disgusting creatures) they had traveled the galaxy in search of greater resources, stocking themselves for ward, creating alliances with other entities in the vastness of space.

The GA would fall for their insolence against the Burg,, and she would be the one to usher them into a greater future.

Who knows, perhaps she might even become queen.

The thought of sitting, fat and happy at the center of the hive made her insides wriggle with pleasure.

Another GA ship fell breaking into pieces and falling towards the glittering surface of the Gromm planet. The shards sparked and sizzled as they were deflected away from the planet’s defence nexus. 

It didn’t matter though, it wouldn’t be here for long.

She planned for that.

And that is when her alarms began going off. She whirled in a circle towards the group of grumbs at her back. They pulsed and oozed in time with the engines of the ship controlling the interior mechanisms with their bodies, which had been fuzed into the mechanisms. When this ship died, they would die with it.

“What is happening.”

“Your glory, ships have appeared from warp, and they ae firing on us.”

“WHO.” She demanded, “I must see!” They gurgled and mumbled as they got to work scrambling to do their best and find a suitable answer for her. The ship drifted around so the viewing platform faced outwards.

Ans that is when she saw them.

Two strange ships on the horizon, and as she watched, three more followed in quick succession, flashing into existence against the black backdrop of the  expanse. 

She would know those ships anywhere.

Hard, brutal and malignant like their pilots, “Slimy Maggots!” She spat grinding her pincers together.

“What is it, your glory?”

The sound that came through her teeth was nothing more than a warbling hiss “Humans.” 

The air around her pulsed with the wave of an incoming transmission. She accepted with an angry flick, her legs chittering back and forth across the ground. And then she saw it, that ugly hideous thing with its bulging bulbous eyes and sofy maggoty flesh, rubbery like a worm.

It blinked at her revealing that mouth full of toxic venom which had been such  a hindrance to her people.

She knew this human well, if not from personal contact, than form the hostires.

For to forget a grudge was to forget one’s honor.

“Disgusting human, have you come to join your fellows as their dust is sprinkled by the solar wind.”

“Let's drop the niceties shall we.” The human responded it’s voice a horrible throbbing humm inside her head, “Now that we are here, You have two options you will surrender to the GA and live, or you will fight and you will die poorly. Which shall it be, this is your first and final warning.”

She chittered her mandibles together in laughter.

“You are mistaken human. For it is YOU who will die poorly, and there is no surrender.

“Is that a no than?”

She spat at the screen, “You will die screaming.”

“I said, is-that-a-no?”

“NO.”

“Very well.”

And then she …. She saw something, or she thought she saw something. 

A flash of light, like a fire ignited behind the slimy outer layer of the human Iris. It was both cold and hot burning and cold, chaotic and still. The longer she stared the hotter the little fire grew, until it felt as if she could feel tongues of flame licking at her shell,

“Do you have gods, burg.”

She wasn’t entirely sure where this was going but the mesmerizing nature of the eyes caused her to grow still, unable to be silent against the burning question.

“Yes.”

“Do you pray.”

“Only over the pyres of our dead.”

The human bared his teeth slimy coating of venom sparkling under the light.

“Then Pray.” 

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #HUMANS ARE WERID #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

[therainbowwillow]

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/641354616733401088/therainbowwillow

Epilogue! 

Here it is, the last part of this fic. And here is a sappy note from the author: Thank you all so, so much for reading my first-ever fanfic I’ve posted here! As I said in the very first parts, the hardest part of writing (for me) is posting what I write! To publish your art (written or drawn or sung, etc) is to show a part of yourself to the world and it is intimidating. The support you readers have given me has encouraged me to finish (me? finishing something?) this fic and has inspired me to keep posting my writing on here! Thanks a million for joining me on this trainwreck of a fanfiction.

Premise/last time (my last synopsis? AH!): Orpheus’s song succeeds. Hermes’s prophecy is fulfilled when Orpheus discovers his new immortality, at the hand of Hades. Persephone is allowed to choose where she spends her time, in Hadestown or up above. Eurydice and Orpheus look forward to their future, a lot longer than they had expected. Achilles and Patroclus are given a second chance at life and guaranteed a spot in Elysium. Hyacinthus stays with Apollo. Hermes is unemployed and tired but at least his son is alive.

It hadn’t taken Orpheus and Eurydice more than a minute to decide they wanted to go home. The Olympians had murmured amongst themselves. Gods, they had said, who do not have any desire to remain on Olympus? Sure, it wasn’t unheard of to live away from the city. But to visit only for hours? That wasn’t common. 

Hermes had understood in an instant. They had come to plead for their lives and they’d left with much more than they’d bargained for. They longed for normalcy. They’d said their good-byes to Apollo and Hyacinthus, shining with his newfound immortality. The journey home had felt short, Hermes had been half-conscious for most of it. Persephone and Hestia helped him down the ramp, leaving Olympus behind him. 

The train ride had been silent. Orpheus and Eurydice had sat side by side, hand in hand, never looking away from his bedside.

The flowers in the meadow turned their heads to Orpheus, God of Song, as he passed, though no notes touched his lips. Persephone helped Hermes inside and they’d slept. 

When he’d finally woken, Hermes found Orpheus and Eurydice outside his window, laying together in the meadow. They sat beneath a tree and Orpheus strummed his lyre, humming the notes of a new song, flowers blooming around him, warm raindrops against his cheeks. Hermes watched them from his bed, to weary to stand.

The sun, perhaps curious at the sound of Orpheus’s music burned off the clouds and a rainbow stretched across the sky. Eurydice was the first to notice. It was a novel sight after years without a spring. She pointed it out to Orpheus, who watched it, wide-eyed, and then switched to singing about the colors above him. 

...

Today, almost exactly a year after their original return, Orpheus and Eurydice would be married, in the light of spring. Orpheus stands beside his wife, sipping a glass of nectar. Eurydice frantically adjusts her veil. Orpheus sets down his drink and takes her hands in his. “Hey. You look great, love. What’s wrong?” he asks her.

“It’s just... we never could’ve done this before...” she sighs. “We could never have paid for all this. And now...”

“We won’t lose it this time,” he promises.

“I know. It’s hard to forget that we did once.”

He nods in understanding. “Let’s enjoy it while we can, lover. Sure, winter will be cold, summer will be hot, but it’s spring now!” He places his hands on her waist and sways back and forth. Eurydice smiles. She grabs his hands and spins him under her arms. 

“It’s spring,” she agrees. 

The guest list looks exactly as they’d agreed it would on the first train ride home. Hermes received the first invitation, as he still lived with the soon-to-be newlyweds. Persephone, residing nearby with her mother and son, received the second. Hyacinthus and Apollo were in attendance, and Achilles and Patroclus. Hera had blessed the wedding and Aphrodite had agreed wholeheartedly. In some stroke of madness or courage, Orpheus had sent a letter to Hades, inviting him to stop by. He hadn’t received a reply. 

Written inside the cards was indeed Eurydice’s poem, to which she had objected after the letters had been sent. Still, she’d slept with a copy of the invitation under her pillow for months.

The set-up had been easy enough. A few notes of coaxing and, as promised, the trees had laid their wedding tables. Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, had given them a wedding arch of pure light. Persephone and Demeter had provided a feast and Hermes had delivered most of their invitations. 

Apollo walks Orpheus down the isle. He trembles with anxiety. Hermes hands Eurydice off to him and he clutches her hand, beneath their arch of light. “I’m gonna forget what I’m supposed to say,” he whispers.

She squeezes his hand. “Orpheus, you aren’t gonna forget.” He nods, hoping she’s right. 

And she is, of course. “I can’t promise you fair sky above,” he vows, “Can’t promise you kind road below. But I’ll walk beside you, love. Any way the wind blows. Walk beside me.”

“Any way the wind blows,” she swears. “I will.”

Their kiss is long and filled with love. Eurydice’s fingertips brush against the thin scar across her lover’s palm. The tiny gash that had decided their forever. 

The rest of the night is marked by music. Apollo is supposed to be the one performing, but Orpheus can’t help himself. Eurydice joins in, singing beside him, and soon the crowd is cheering for the newlyweds’ song. If Apollo is jealous, he doesn’t show it. 

At Orpheus’s allowance, he leaves his position on stage and spins out a beautiful dance with Hyacinthus. Apollo notices his lover has grown his hair out. He has it tied back in a wreath of purple hyacinths, revealing the gash over his eye, the mark of his death he’d always kept so desperately hidden. Apollo brushes his finger over the scar. Hyacinthus looks away. “Hey, I like it,” Apollo says.

“I wasn’t sure about it. I... I used to wear my hair like this. You know... before? I thought maybe-”

“I love it.” Apollo silences him with a kiss. 

The wedding celebrations carry on long into the night. Hermes looks on as Eurydice and Orpheus share their final dance of the day. Somehow, by some miracle, their tale had turned out this time. 

“Hermes,” Orpheus takes a seat beside him, as Eurydice prepares a snack inside. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Hermes pulls his son into his arms. “I wish I could’ve done more,” he says. He opens Orpheus’s palm, examining his scar. “I wish it every day.”

Orpheus shakes his head. “You couldn’t have done more. I couldn’t have asked for a better father. You saved my life. Endured Hades’s wrath in my place.”

“And you saved me in turn. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.” 

“I wish... you hadn’t gone through so much for me,” Orpheus whispers

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Orpheus,” he says, honestly. They sit in silence for a moment.

“Do you still feel it?” Orpheus asks, suddenly.

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What?”

“His wrath.”

“Do you?” Hermes inquires.

“I never felt it the way you did. It would always... end. A few seconds of agony and it would all be over,” he says.

“That’s not an answer.”

He hesitates a moment. “I do,” Orpheus admits. “Aches and pains, bad dreams, however it manifests, I can always tell.”

Hermes nods his sympathy. “I understand.”

“You were worse. You... you were asleep for days, weakened for weeks. And when you woke... you looked older, so tired. I was afraid for you,” Orpheus tells him.

“Finding you in that cell, Orpheus... that’s how I felt. I wish I could take all of that pain away from you,” Hermes says.

“I’ll manage,” Orpheus promises. “However long it takes.”

“I know you will.”

Eurydice returns with a plate of fruit and glasses of nectar. She hands one to her husband and the other to her father-in-law. “Happy zero-th anniversary, Orpheus!”

He blushes a deep gold. “We’re married!” He remembers. “It still hasn’t sunk in yet!”

Eurydice looks up at the full moon overhead. The scent of cherry blossom is on the air. She sits beside Orpheus and rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re here,” she tells him, softly.

“I am too.”

————————————————————-

Achilles and Patroclus established their residence in the countryside. In thanks for their protection of her daughter, Demeter provided bountiful harvests, year after year. They sat beneath their fig orchard and watched the stars, rejecting offers of glory in trade for the peace and quiet they longed for.

Decades passed and like all good things, their quiet lives came to an end. Achilles was the first to return to Hadestown. He fell ill in late winter. Patroclus never once left his side, providing food and drink and finally strong medicine until his lover breathed his final breath.

Patroclus watched the pyre go up in flames. He collected the ashes in a golden urn, half filled. His nights were cold and lonely and the harvest felt tedious. He watched the stars alone each night, just as he had promised he would. Finally, his time came.

...

He wakes, feeling unrefreshed. He pulls the cover back over himself and closes his eyes again. “Patroclus,” voice from behind him calls. A dream, he knows. He’d had plenty before. He shuts his eyes tighter.

“Patroclus,” Achilles says again. “Mind looking at me? It’s been a while. I missed you.”

Patroclus rolls over. His lover stands before him, young and healthy in a small bedroom. “Achilles?” he mutters. “This isn’t real.”

He prepares to turn away. Achilles takes his hand. His eyes widen at the touch. “No, Patroclus. You’re here!”

“Where ‘here’? Achilles, what is this?” he asks.

“Welcome to Elysium!” Achilles exclaims, taking a seat beside him. “Hades kept his promise.”

Patroclus blinks. “I’m... dead?”

Achilles nods. “Yes. Now we get to stay here. For real this time. I made Hades swear it, on the River Styx.” He brushes the hair out of Patroclus’s eyes. “If you’d like, I can show you around, but I’d rather you rest first. Dying is tiring work.”

Patroclus sits upright. “Achilles... I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I was afraid when Persephone brought you in that something was wrong. She told me that it was common, for shades who died in their sleep to stay asleep for days, even weeks,” he explains. “It wasn’t particularly comforting. I’m glad you’re awake.”

“I didn’t have coins to cross the Styx!” Patroclus realizes.

“I paid your fare.”

“What? How? You weren’t on the banks with me.”

Achilles shrugs. “Persephone told me she’d seen you so I worked on the factory assembly lines for a few days until I could afford to bring you over. I bet she would’ve done it anyway if I hadn’t scrounged together the change.”

“Thank you,” he says, gratefully.

“It wasn’t too bad. I hadn’t worked for years. Kind of refreshing, honestly.”

“Years?” Patroclus asks, alarmed.

“No one in Elysium works all that often. In the rest of Hadestown, most shades work part-time, with two weeks’ vacation to Elysium annually, plus weekends,” Achilles says. “And... oh, I shouldn’t tell you until you’re ready to see for yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Patroclus insists. “Please tell me.”

“The sky. It’s not the overworld, but it has its own beauty. It’s quite impressive, and it isn’t even finished. I guess if you’d like we could-”

“Yes!” Patroclus exclaims. “I watched the stars. Every night. It wasn’t the same without you, my love.”

Achilles helps him to his feet and guides him through the house. Through the door of their cozy bedroom, down a short hallway, they step down a flight of stairs and out the front door. It opens to a landscape of rolling hills under otherworldly green lights. The stars are swirls in the sky, illuminated in strange colors. “Stars?” he whispers in awe.

“Hades stopped trying to recreate the overworld. He made it... something else. It worked, clearly. Come, sit.” He shows Patroclus to a well-used patch of grass beneath a fruit tree and lowers his lover to the ground.

Patroclus twirls a blade of grass between his fingers. “This is real,” he observes.

“Orpheus’s song does reach down here. And Persephone keeps everything growing, especially this time of year, springtime in the underground. When she’s with Hades, it’s like summer. Underworld summer. Patroclus, I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it really is-”

“It’s incredible.” Patroclus’s lips touch Achilles’s and neither man pulls away, not for an eternity.

----(Decades prior to the deaths of Achilles and Patroclus)----

It had taken Persephone over two years to make her decision. She’d felt bad to keep her husband waiting all this time, but living up on top was bliss after all those long winters. It was summer of the third year when she finally returned.

...

Hermes arrives at her new residence, this one closer to Hadestown, looking awful. For a moment she fears the worst. That her husband had torn up the world all over again. But what he tells her is more frightening.

“Persephone, this summer’s been too long,” he announces. “Orpheus is powerful, but not this good. He’s been singing day and night to keep the weather in check. Singing for months There’s a spring and a fall and a winter, but it won’t last long. Next year, I’m afraid the crops will burn or-”

Horror fills her. “Is he alright?” She asks. “I knew it was getting hotter, but I never thought...”

Hermes sighs. “I’ve seen worse. But it’s wearing on him. He’s too tired to get out of bed these days. Eurydice’s there to help, of course, but he can’t do this forever, Seph. Not even a god can remain eternally awake.”

“I’ll go,” she agrees.

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m asking. Your mother can control the seasons. With her help-”

“No, I’m leaving. I’ve made my choice. Tell your poor boy I’ll come by one last time. Let him stop singing.”

Hermes accepts this. They walk up the railroad track in silence.

He gently opens the door of his and Orpheus’s residence. He hears Eurydice, giving words of encouragement.

“It’s been months,” Orpheus says, his voice raspy with strain. “I dunno how long I can stay up. Even gods sleep.”

“I know, lover. But you’ve done so well. Don’t give up now.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “Just... a few more weeks, right? No,” he corrects himself, “Months. It’ll be fall soon. Then winter, then spring.”

“Spring is break time.”

“I know. It’s only... it’s two seasons away.”

Hermes hears her miserable sigh. “You’ve been brave, Orpheus, to keep fighting.”

“I love you,” he says.

“I know.”

He gives a little yelp of pain.

“Sorry. I should’ve changed these hours ago.”

Hermes opens the door. Orpheus looks up from his bloodied fingers. He smiles. “Hey Hermes! I’m sorry, I have nothing for us to eat. The song stopped producing a few days ago and I’m struggling with the lyre now that my fingers... well... It’ll be harvest soon. It won’t be ambrosia, but it’ll have to do.”

“No.” Persephone sits beside him. “It won’t have to do. We can fix this. I’m going back to Hadestown. I won’t be long. Spring always returns.”

“You don’t have to do this!” Orpheus exclaims, “My song will be enough until it’s spring again. Don’t go back. Please.”

“I miss him, Orpheus. I do. I’m going... home.” It feels strange to call Hadestown ‘home’. It was most often known to Persephone as ‘hell on earth.’

“Only if this is what you want, Persephone,” he says.

“I do. Please get some rest. Starting now.”

He smiles wearily as he leans back against his pillows. “Thank you.”

“I love you, kiddo. I’ll see you when you bring back the springtime next year,” she promises.

He gives a little nod and he’s asleep, almost the second his head hits the pillow.

Hermes helps Persephone onto the train. Charon drives now, rather than himself. “Take care of Orpheus for me, will you? And give this to Dionysus.” She hands him a envelope. “He can come visit whenever he likes.”

“I will. If you need anything, just send a message.”

“See ya next spring!” She waves as the train pulls out of the station.

...

She remembers Orpheus, almost lifeless, collapsed in a booth just like the one she sits in now. Only three years. It feels like a century. How much he’s been through, she thinks. How much he’s changed. He isn’t the young man who’d collapsed at her feet in Hades’s throne room all those years ago. She has no doubt in her mind that he would’ve sung ‘til spring if she hadn’t gone.

The routine of the train ride is something of a comfort. She watches the scenery fly by outside her window. Green fields, nearly ripe for harvest. All thanks to Orpheus.

The train grinds to a halt. She steps into Hadestown, beyond the wall for the first time in so long. Bluish lights illuminate the stone walls of the city from above. The shadows cast by the buildings aren’t so harsh as they had once been. She raises an eyebrow.

She follows the streets down into the heart of Hadestown, hell on Earth. A young couple passes her, hand in hand.

“Hey, miss?” A woman calls. She turns. “I haven’t seen you around. Are you new here?” the girl asks.

“I- no. Not really.” Persephone looks up at the city skyline. Her husband’a tower is no where in sight. “Where’s the tower?”

“The tower?” The woman looks confused for a second. “Oh yeah! I’ve heard the stories! They took it down during the revolution. You want a glass of wine, miss? If not, the bar’s always open if-”

“Hush,” Persephone cuts her off. “If we’re discovered, there won’t be anywhere left.”

The woman’s brow furrows. “Discovered by who? Mister Hades frequents our establishment.”

“We can’t be talking about the same man,” she says, astounded.

“You sure you don’t want a drink? I’m new here, so maybe someone will know more than me.”

Persephone nods, numbly. The woman leads her down the same street she’d walked a hundred times. Instead of a thin, secluded allyway, the entrance to her old bar is well-lit and wide open. It’s exterior is painted with a mural of carnations. She steps inside and is recognized almost instantly.

“Lady Persephone!” The bartender calls. “We’ve missed you down here!”

“Ampelos,” she recognizes the young man, a lover of her son, Dionysus, and the best bartender around. “It’s been a while.”

“That it has! We didn’t think you’d come back!”

“Yet here I am. Where’s the tower, my friend? Or the throne hall, I suppose.” She inquires. “I should find my husband.”

“I’m sure Hades will stop by soon enough. Dionysus’s spring wine.” He hands her a glass. “Hades kept the recipe.”

“There’s no vineyards down below,” she corrects him. “How much are you smuggling?”

“None.” He shrugs. “Orpheus’s song changed a lot.”

“Did my husband put you up to this?”

“No,” he answers. “It’s been different since the revolution. We’re still rebuilding, so there’s plenty to do, but having our memories back is nice. So are the shorter shifts. Five day weeks, nine-to-four. The weekends, we do as we like and our two weeks’ annual vacation time can be spent whenever we please. Pay isn’t half bad, though we’re campaigning for more currently, hence the flower. It’s the symbol of our revolution.”

She blinks in disbelief. “Funny.”

“No, I’m not joking,” he protests. “Things have changed.”

Persephone shakes her head. “Not Hades. Hades is unmovable. He gave us a chance because that song made him soft. Nothing more.”

“You’re wrong. He didn’t come this far alone, true. It took a lot of willpower and good minds to convince him to let go of his iron grip on Hadestown, but we did it,” he explains.

The bell chimes at the door. Persephone freezes in fear at the sight of her husband. She’d dreamt it a hundred times, that he’d take away her last safe haven. “Hades,” she pleads.

He stares at her. “Persephone?” He waits for someone to laugh, tell him it had all been a joke. No one does. He moves closer. He doesn’t dare to touch her. He sees her eyes well with tears. “A glass of wine, Ampelos,” he commands.

Her lips part. “You know him?”

Ampelos shrugs. “Like I said. He’s a regular.”

“Hades...”

He cracks a smile. “I suppose I do drink more than I once did. I hoped you wouldn’t judge, Seph- sorry, Persephone,” he corrects himself.

She takes his hands. “Hades... you let us go. You let them go. It’s true?”

He nods. “I promised you change.”

“I didn’t think...”

“I don’t blame you. Persephone... why did you return?”

“The weather became hotter and hotter the longer I stayed. I couldn’t let the world die for me,” she says. “And Hades? I... I missed you.

“You made your choice?” His voice hasn’t lost its old commanding tone.

She closes her eyes and exhales. “I have. I made a promise too. I told them up on the surface I’d be back by spring.”

“I told you I wouldn’t keep you here,” he says, almost irritated. “But I understand your doubts.” Hades sips his wine.

“I’ll stay,” she promises. 

“For me or for them?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admits.

He nods. “Will you walk with me?”

Persephone takes his hand and leaves the bar behind her. The streets are cleaner, the air is easier on her lungs. The city is lit by beams of blue light, dazzling the buildings in colorful rays. Carnations are painted on some of the walls, leftover from the riots. “I stopped trying to make it look like it does up above,” Hades informs her. 

“I noticed.”

“Do you like it?” He stops to ask her.

“Yes.”

“The shades seem to prefer it too,” he adds.

“They’re happy, Hades,” she tells him.

“I feared they only kept up the ruse around me to save their skins.”

“No. It’s genuine. They smile. They laugh. I never thought I’d see the day,” she remarks.

They continue walking, past the crumbled remains of factories and newly opened restaurants. “Where are we going, Hades?” Persephone finally asks.

He shrugs. “Where do you want to go?”

She’s surprised at her own request. “Home,” she says. 

“It’s gone,” he responds, bluntly. “The tower fell before I returned.”

“Then take me to wherever you’re staying.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I have no home. I held off. You were never happy in the tower. I wanted you to choose where we should reside.”

“I don’t understand,” Persephone says. “You don’t have a home on the surface. You live here year round. Why should my six months matter more than your twelve?” 

“You’re my wife.”

“And I’m telling you to pick a place. So do it.”

He guides her down the street in silence, away from the center of town. She recognizes the route he’s taking, remembers the last time she’d come this way. It had been no leisurely stroll then. She instinctively reaches for her pocket, retracting her hand when she remembers she’d left her flask on the surface. 

The tightly packed streets open to an empty field, a single dilapidated building at the far edge. Persephone carefully steps over the glass ruins of her now-fallen greenhouses. She rests her hand upon the door of the last building that stands. She exhales and pushes it open. 

The scent of flowers strikes her. Her jaw drops. The garden blooms before her, as if she’s on the surface. As if the vines cannot tell that the sun is a million miles out of reach. 

“Hades...” she whispers, rapt.

“It will improve in your care,” he says. 

“You did this?”

“I did my best,” he tells her, modestly. “Orpheus’s song does reach us.” He pinches a dead leaf between his fingers. “But it’s been quiet lately.”

She takes a seat on a bench in the center of the garden and pats the spot beside her. Hades joins her. “Last time I was here, I used these vines to strangle the man you sent to attack me,” she reminds him. “After he shot Orpheus, that is. I was too late. As always,” she scoffs. Hades says nothing. “No, you look at me, husband.” He turns towards her. “You’re trying. But it ain’t easy to forgive.”

He nods in quiet understanding. “What happened to him once I left?”

She shrugs. “Hermes could tell you more than I could. I spent time with the three of them when things got rough, just after we got home from Olympus. It took Orpheus a long time to get back on his feet, even with the help of your ambrosia.” 

She sighs, remembering those long, long weeks. “He’d sleep all day and wake up screaming. Some nights, he wouldn’t speak to us; he wouldn’t tell us what was wrong. He’d just cry and cry until he lost his voice or I gave him something to knock him out. It was unbearable. But we bore it, Eurydice and I, while Hermes slept. Eventually he improved, but even now, some days are harder than others.” 

“Whatever you did to him, it never went away,” she accuses him. “The same for Hermes. You couldn’t tell by looking at them, not anymore. But sometimes... sometimes I know it wears on them.”

Hades stares at the vines at his feet. “I would take it all back if I could,” he says, quietly.

“I know you would. I wish I could relieve their burdens, more than you know.”

“You have burdens of your own,” he reminds her. “The weight of their strife is mine to carry.”

She wonders if he wants her to refute him. “Yes, it is,” she simply agrees. “No amount of apologies, no amount of reform will ever take away that pain.” She stands and turns her back on him. 

He reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “I know. I’m not asking you to forgive. I know you cannot forget. But we have another chance, Persephone.”

“I don’t know what I want, Hades.” 

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises.

#hadestown #hadestown fanfic #hadestown au #like i said its hardly an au lol #oh well #at least my warm up is done #its eighteen parts long #end me #therainbowwrites

[luthienne]

How does one let go? Of another, of one's self, of the life you thought you were living. Do you know any fitting poems or quotes describing the phenomenon of moving forward?

I’m not sure that I’ve ever let go of anything in my entire life. This Anne Carson quote always seems to sum up my thoughts in four succinct lines:

I find the phenomenon of letting go so inextricably tied with the idea of healing or recovery, perhaps because that’s what the desire to “let go” and move forward looks like for me. How do you let go of something that happened to you or within you, something that has altered your conception of the world from one day to the next, that has altered your own perception of yourself, of who you thought you were or could be, of what you thought your life would be? How to come to terms with the reality that there is no return to who you were before? 

For me it’s less a deliberate choice to brush my hands together and “let go”, but more simply putting one foot in front of the other every day until I find myself in a (perhaps even just slightly) different place than before. It’s allowing myself to grieve what I thought my life would be, and also allowing space to hold gratitude for what my life contains. It’s waiting for everything inside of me and around me to shatter, and meanwhile still moving forward. It’s allowing myself to realize that I’m still here and I’m still a whole person, even if the pieces of me have shattered and rearranged themselves into something I don’t necessarily always recognize. It’s sitting alone with myself, with the silence that sometimes makes a home of my throat, with the restlessness beneath my skin, with the fear that who I am becoming won’t be enough, and moving anyway in any direction but back. It’s sitting with grief and shame and bitterness and groundlessness, and understanding that these feelings are temporary, and not things be used to validate my fears or distortions.

I think the deliberate choice involved for me is the one to allow space for growth, to not cling so tightly to past hopes or ideas that there is no longer any room for anything else, anything new, anything different. It’s allowing myself the belief and compassionate understanding that I can be something other than I thought or hoped I would be, and it’s ok. I think sometimes we deny ourselves chances to grow or change because of the shame we feel that we have failed, and to deny ourselves those opportunities for growth would be the real shame. What others believe does not matter—that we have invested ourselves utterly in a relationship that failed is no shame on us, that we have invested ourselves utterly in a dream or a hope that just didn’t work out is no shame on us. I think the worst thing is to remain in a place that is no longer serving us for fear of appearing the failure to others. There is so much opportunity to be had in letting go of one thing, anything, to make room for something else.

I don’t know that this compilation of poetry, essays, literature, and letters will offer any insight, or comfort, or guidance. Letting go must surely be an intensely personal process, an intensely personal thing, a different kind of animal for everyone—but still there seem to be some universal experiences. So these are some of the words that came to mind for me—whether they touch on grappling with the impossibility of letting go and moving forward, the hope of it, the desire for it, the loneliness of it, or the frustration with it (bc of course it’s something that cannot be forced, only something that can be allowed):

“What could I have grown up to be? What kind of human woman, what kind of simple, happy thing? If I had never been broken on a bird’s wing. If I had never seen the world naked. I want to be myself again…I want to stop knowing everything I know.”

Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

“On the surface, I was poised, cool, indifferent. […] The discrepancy between what I would show the world and the chaos I felt grew steadily more intense.”

Louise Glück, Proofs & Theories: Essays on Poetry

“There were glimpses, moments, breathing spaces of calm, but all the rest of the time it was like living in a house that couldn’t be cured of the habit of catching on fire, on a ship that got wrecked every day.” 

Katherine Mansfield, “At the Bay”

“Words can’t describe the wound. / Perhaps more importantly / words alone / can’t heal the wound.”

Emily Pettit, “Hands Like Lighters”

“But sometimes words are the only hands / we have to touch a bruised memory / or cleanse a wound that never healed / or lift a body we carried for years / at last to the pyre of shared grief.”

Fred Dings, Eulogy for a Private Man

“I sat on a gray stone bench / and placed my grief / in the mouth of language, / the only thing that would grieve with me.” 

Lisel Mueller, Alive Together: Poems

“I am not myself, and cannot ever be / again. I am my own emptiness, trying to fill my emptiness / with words.”

Robert Kroetsch, “Letters to Salonika”

“Now that I’m free to be myself, who am I? / Can’t fly, can’t run, and see how slowly I walk.”

Mary Oliver, from Blue Iris

“Can I never escape this interminable mourning for myself?”

Susan Sontag, from Reborn

“The light of the moon poured down; its beauty, / its radiance. / And I grieved and grieved. I grieved for so long.”

from Phoebus was gone, all gone, his journey over (tr. Eavan Boland)

“When will, when will, when will it be enough, / the saying and lamenting?” 

Rainer Maria Rilke, Uncollected Poems

“…she was only trying to smooth out something she had been given years ago folded up;”

Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

“It seemed increasingly impossible to remember a time when I had been fully alive, impossible to imagine a future in which I would live that way again.” 

Louise Glück, Proofs & Theories: Essays on Poetry

“Everything is so fragile. I feel so lost. I live off secret, radiating, luminous rays that would smother me if I didn’t cover them with a heavy cloak of false certainties. God help me: I have no one to guide me and it’s dark again.”

Clarice Lispector, The Stream of Life

“Make a place for yourself in the darkness and wait there. Be there.”

Denise Levertov, To Stay Alive

“Losing is also ours; and even forgetting has its shape in the permanent realm of change. Things we’ve let go of circle; and though we’re rarely at the center of these circles: they trace around us the unbroken figure.” 

Rainer Maria Rilke, “For Hans Corossa” (tr. Edward Snow)

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. / It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.”

Mary Oliver, “The Uses of Sorrow”

“Things take us hard, no question. / How do you make it, all the way from here to morning?”

Adrienne Rich, Diving into the Wreck

“Following a fearful night I do not quite / remember came a kind / of dawn, not light, / But something we could see by.”

Edna St. Vincent Millay, “Dream of Saba”

“Afterward, you go back to the old place—all that remains is char: blackness and emptiness. You think: how could I live here? But it was different then, even last summer. The earth behaved as though nothing could go wrong with it. One match was all it took. But at the right time—it had to be the right time. The field parched, dry—the deadness in place already so to speak.” 

Louise Glück, Averno

“…the longing, not for something distant or remote, but for what is lost forever, something that can never return.”

Henia Karmel, A Wall of Two

“When a thing’s gone, it’s gone. It’s over and done with. Let it go then! Ignore it, and comfort yourself, if you do want comforting, with the thought that you never do recover the same thing that you lose. It’s always a new thing. The moment it leaves you, it’s changed.”

Katherine Mansfield, “Je ne parle pas français”

“I cannot go back now. […] For me to go back is impossible, now or later.”

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Boris Pasternak

“There comes a day when the trees / refuse to let you pass / until you name them.”

Lisel Mueller, Second Language: Poems

“Anyway, it’s in grappling with things at the source that you can tell best whether a thing is worth continuing or not… In other words, everything is worth investigating, wasting time over, if it interests you. There is always a deep, unconcealed reason why it interests you.”

Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin 

“We only live by somehow absorbing the past—changing it. I mean really examining it and dividing what is important from what is not (for there is waste) and transforming it so that it becomes a part of the life of the spirit and we are free of it. It’s no longer our personal past, it’s just in the highest possible sense, our servant. I mean that it is no longer our master.”

Katherine Mansfield, from a letter to J.M. Murry

“…only one thing is urgently needed: to attach oneself with unconditional purpose somewhere to nature, to what is strong, striving and bright, and to move forward without guile, even if ithat means in the least important, daily matters. Each time we tackle something with joy, each time we open our eyes toward a yet untouched distance we transform not only this and the next moment, but we also rearrange and gradually assimilate the past inside of us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Adelheid von der Marwitz

“Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.”

May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

“One must let life run its course. The human being destroys so many things on his own, and it is not in his power to restore anything. Nature, by contrast, has all the power to heal as long as one does not eavesdrop or interrupt it.” 

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Anita Forrer

“Do not try to be saved, but let redemption find you, as it certainly will. Love is its own rescue; for we, at our supremest, are but its trembling emblems.”

Emily Dickinson, from a letter to T.W. Higginson

“To take things easy, not to fight against the ebb and flow of life, but to give way to it—that was what was needed. It was the tension that was all wrong.”

Katherine Mansfield, “At the Bay”

“If you find yourself disappointing—drop self-expectations. What you are turning into you cannot expect to know, but you can trust it, and believe that if it is other than you planned, it will also be better than you planned—however different.”

Kahlil Gibran, from a letter to Mary Haskell

“To live in this world / you must be able / to do three things: / to love what is mortal; / to hold it / against your bones knowing / your own life depends on it; / and when the time comes to let it go, / to let it go.”

Mary Oliver, “At Blackwater Pond”

#this response is abominably late i know #i frankly could not bear to grapple with putting to words the concept of letting go this past year #i was in the midst of it (though tbh i think i always am) #ask #letting go #words #poetry #lit #letters #compilation

[redjennies]

by popular demand (two people who challenged me), the official Nott the Brave/Veth Brenatto (alt) country playlist:

Hard Out Here by Hayes Carll: starting off with the song that directly inspired this nonsense. the unofficial Nott the Brave theme song. mvp lines: "nobody's listening so we might as well scream it / OH GOD WE'RE ALL OUT OF BEER / it gets hard out here."

Fuck Up by Sarah Shook and the Disarmers: admittedly I see this one as mostly a Beau song but the lyrics "I'm lousy in a fist fight even if I have a knife" is a little anti-Beau. this song could be one they bond over relating to. mvp lines: "there ain't a thing I can change to get my luck up / god never makes mistakes he just makes fuck ups."

Copper Canteen by James McMurtry: absolutely heartbreaking song with strong Veth/Yeza vibes. mvp lines (bc I can't pick just one): "honey, don't be yelling at me while I'm cleaning my gun." OR "we grew up hard / and our children don't know what that means / we turned into our parents / before we were out of our teens." OR "hang on to your rosary beads / and leave me to my mischievous deeds / like we always do." OR honestly the whole goddamn song, I love it.

I Swear (To God) by Tyler Childers: I'm going to be honest a lot of these are taken directly from my personal hangover playlist and that's a Nott mood. mvp lines: "pay no mind to the words I say / cause they ain't no count anyway / I been ramblin' around and led astray / by the paths that I been choosin' / cuttin' paths like a forest fire / pupils wider than backhoe tires / throwin' my money on a funeral pyre / but it sure feels good abusin'."

Ain't Living Long Like This by Waylon: another off the hangover playlist. also this is where we get into the been to prison themes. mvp lines: "i live with Angel, she's a roadhouse queen / makes Texas Ruby look like Sandra Dee / i want to love her but i don't know how / i'm at the bottom in the jailhouse now"

"Bus Station" by Dave Alvin: yeah so this is a little widobrave, but it's also just kinda a good representation of Nott and Caleb in the early episodes in general. mvp lines: "bus station, at sun-up / she reads the ticket in her hand / it's a different name for the same old town / and this ain't the life that they had planned / and so he tries to tell her / it won't be like the times before / it's a different town and a brand new start / and he's gonna work a whole lot more."

In Spite of Ourselves by John Prine and Iris DeMent (rip, johnny): okay so I had to put a cute Yeza/Veth to counteract that sad one. plus this song has the exact energy as Nott saying "he's not a looker, but he is to me." mvp lines: "she thinks all my jokes are corny / convict movies make her horny / she likes ketchup on her scrambled eggs / swears like a sailor when she shaves her legs / she takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin' / i'm never gonna let her go."

False Eyelashes by Dolly: i couldn't leave my mom out. wanted to get a little of the "i'm off doing other things and can't go back to Felderwin" in here. mvp lines: "mom wonders why i don't drive back in that big fine car i own / the truth is i don't have a car and i'm ashamed to go back home."

the next four songs are just classic country "mommas, drinking, and jailhouses" vibin because i'm about it. if you haven't heard that version of Redneck Mother you should listen to it because it's hilarious. it's just Ray roasting his own song.

Mississippi Nuthin' by Shovels and Ropes: this is me being entirely self-indulgent. who knows why I put this one on? is this Veth and Yeza? is this Caleb and Nott? i don't know. i just like the "country kid that gets famous and also missing someone close to them" feel. mvp lines: "you always think i'm bluffing / like i'm some kind of Mississippi nuthin [...] and you tried to drive and wrecked your car / and i had to help you wash the blood out of your hair / cause i've always been that kind of 'go to' friend / or maybe it's true / maybe i'm just the blue collar version of you."

Sunday Morning Coming Down by Kristopherson: yeah, yeah, a lot of these are alcohol/hangover songs but what else did you expect from a country playlist for a character who's canonically an alcoholic? also consider the mvp lines: "in the park i saw a daddy with a laughin' little girl who he was swinging / and i stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the song that they were singing / then i headed back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing / and it echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday."

Sleeping on the Blacktop by Colter Wall: I just liked the chaotic "on the run" vibe. mvp lines: "hey darlin'! / leavin' for the next town / less'n my sense catches up with me."

I Was Drunk by Alejandro Escovedo: closing song for my tiny sad cursed goblin girl. mvp lines: "i was summoned / by the angels / to be hung beside your picture / not allowed to feel / to touch / to hold / forever imprisoned at long / i called out your name."

#nott the brave #i spent entirely too much time on this #critical role #cr2 #veth brenatto #joke tag #redneck bullshit #music tag

[americankestrelprojects]

Hello all! I’m running a Mini-Bang! It’s multi-fandom. Summaries below the cut.

Submission 0:  List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): Original fiction Word count: 216 Short description: An introspective piece about the process of creating, and how it corresponds to living

Submission 1:   List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): The Magnus Archives, JonMartin Word count: 2076 Short description: A season 1 AU in which Jon accidentally overhears Martin discussing his crush on him, and it doesn’t take him two and a half seasons to decide to care about other people. Pretty much pure fluff, and when during season one is entirely ambiguous. There’s a lot of blushing. Also Tim Stoker is a menace.

Submission 2:   List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): Yugioh 5ds, Yugioh GX, Kindredshipping Word count: 3142 Short description: Ghost Hunting AU anyone? Judai and Johan are sensitives and realize that Yusei is partially sensitive when he momentarily spots their familiar spirits Yubel and Ruby. However, Yusei doesn’t believe in them and thinks that the two of them are out of their minds. Can looking for non-existent beings lead to something else? (No Duel Monsters in this AU. Yubel and Ruby are both human spirits that died generations ago.)

Submission 3: List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, mostly gen with established Jotaro/Kakyoin, focus relationship is familial Kakyoin & Giorno Word count: 7300 Short description: Post-Eyes of Heaven, post-Part 6. Speedwagon Operative Kakyoin picks up a confused Giorno from the Florida Airport after the battle against Pucci. The part 6 gang, Giorno, Mista, and Polnareff celebrate defeating Pucci by going to Disney World. Kakyoin learns the truth of the events of Eyes of Heaven from Jotaro and also slowly accepts Giorno into the family.

Submission 4:  List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): Original work/Dungeons and Dragons Word count: 1785 Short description: Fire Genasi researcher Pyre is on the verge of a breakthrough and (almost) everyone else in the lab is cheering for them. They can't shake their nerves, however, and soon find out that not all portals lead somewhere nice.

Submission 5:   List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): The Vampire Diaries/Teen Wolf, Ship: Katherine Pierce/Kira Yukimura Word count: 331 Short description: Kira knows every step of the plan to rescue Derek from the Mexican hunters by heart. Now if only her heart was set on the mission and not on the lips on her neck.

Submission 6:   List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): Foyle’s War, Rex Talbot/Andrew Foyle Word count: 241 Short description: Andrew keeps seeing Rex wherever he goes after the war.  But Rex is dead.

Submission 7:   List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): Original Word count: 15985 Short description: What makes a perfect theft? Everyone carries out their roles as scripted, everything goes according to plan, and not a soul knows you’re coming. But what if you just met your fellow actress, she just tried to kill you, nobody read the script, and the target was expecting you the whole time? Iris and Amber find themselves grappling with all manner of unfortunate questions as they attempt to acquire a rare text from a ruthless noble on behalf of a force far more dangerous than any problem that could arise during this all or nothing heist!

Submission 8:   List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): Metal Fight Beyblade Word count: 2700 Short description: Stranded. Hungry. Kyoya Tategami is notorious for willing to do anything it takes to win a battle, but that was against physical opponents. Now, he must battle against the elements and mother nature herself in order to prove that he's strong enough to bare "the fangs of the heart," not only to the Dark Nebula, but to himself and restore his pride, even if his mind cracks and crumbles away in the process. No matter how many times, no matter how many times he fails, he will come out victorious.

Submission 9:  List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): Avatar: The Last Airbender, Sokka genfic Word count: 919 Short description: "“His father said something else, but Sokka couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears. Him, in an arranged marriage to the princess of the Fire Nation—it must have been a sad excuse for a joke.” In a universe where the Hundred Year War didn’t happen, Sokka struggles to deal with the news that he’s being forced into a political marriage with someone he doesn’t know or love. In which Sokka fights with his family, reconciles with Katara in his super secret igloo fort, and has a heart-to-heart with Hakoda on the way to the Fire Nation."

Submission 10:   List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): original, gen Word count: 3845 Short description: "It's been raining a lot where Kora lives, and she hasn't left her apartment, and every day is about the same. Basically, this is a weird atmospheric horror thing about being isolated in your single apartment, and also a time loop."

Submission 11: List the fandom and ships here (if applicable): Ace Attorney, Phoenix Wright/Miles Edgeworth (Narumitsu/Wrightworth), implied/background Klavier/Apollo Word count: 12134 Short description: "This is the first chapter of an Ace Attorney fic I outlined a couple of years ago but never finished! It assumes a lot of background knowledge of AA1-AA5. Taking place three days after the end of AA5, Athena is hanging around in the Prosecutor's Office waiting for Simon when she runs into Miles Edgeworth. He unexpectedly reveals that they have something in common — they were both led to believe that they killed one of their own parents. But as they're talking about it, and as Edgeworth talks about Phoenix Wright, something seems off. Athena senses discord in his voice. And once she realizes that Edgeworth has some misgivings about being ""just friends"" with Wright, she does the only logical thing — enlist all their co-workers in a plot to set them up. (Also Apollo talks to Wright about Edgeworth/DL-6, this is all right before Christmas so Phoenix visits Edgeworth and they analyze his childhood trauma through the lens of tort law and nearly kiss (?), Phoenix and Edgeworth are very much in love but in denial about it, lots of scenes and moments to choose from! Hopefully I'll finish this one day.)"

#2020 #mini bang

[the-second-circle-ffxiv]

Cocoa and marshmallows

Iris cursed under her breath, as she made her way through the snowy streets of Ishgard towards Silke’s apartment. The midday was knocking on the door, as the women had finally left the Blacksoul manor. Silke had a day-off, true... but if she had left her apartment already, there would be no way Iris and Eva could find her from the city of size that Ishgard was.

The library, Jeweled Crozier, Second Circle... too many chances. Too many places to go looking from. All Iris could do was hope her friend had slept long, and was still at home. High stiletto heels knocked merrily against the stony walkway, as the two arrived to the apartment building. Silke’s small, lowly flat was located up on the third floor. “...The heckin’ stairs tend to be slippery at dis time o’ a day, Cinnabun... So watch yer heckin’ steps. I’m not gonna catch ya, if yer to fall and break yer neck, just sayin’.”

Iris looked up at a narrow stairway, leading up on the outer wall of the building, and with a sigh, she gathered up her long, black dress, and started making her way up, Eva following just couple of steps behind her. The morning had been warm, and the ice on the stairs had melted away, making their climb that much easier, and in no time, the two arrived onto Silke’s door.

Iris listened for a moment, trying to hear if anyone was home. The walls were like paper around here anyway, but she couldn’t pick up any noises. A lonely dog was barking somewhere in the distance. The voice was too deep to come out of Silke’s little puppy, Laurence. Giving a quick side-glance towards Eva, Iris knocked onto the door.

“‘Ey! Silkee! Blackbird, yer ‘ome?! It’s mi! Open tha door, mi ass is freezin’ ‘ere!! Silkeee! Darlin’!”

Silke flinched awake when she heard knocking on the door. “It wasn't me I swear!” she yelped stupidly, before realizing she had just been dreaming and she was in fact in her own apartment, alone. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock. It was nearly midday. Cursing silently, Silke flung her blanket aside, stepped into her moogle slippers which had been waiting next to her bed and was already about to dash towards the door. Then she remembered she was wearing only tiny panties and black, short nightgown, which barely reached her buttocks and was made of some thin fabric that showed more than she would've wanted to.

The garment actually belonged to Lareine, or Iris, who had left it behind sometime. Silke had ended up wearing the thing after deciding to be effective and washing all of her laundry at once, before noticing she had mashed her both own nightgowns into washings and thus didn't have anything to wear during the night. Luckily her pink morning gown with brash turquoise carbuncle patterns hadn't been among the laundry, so she grabbed it from the sofa and wrapped it around her while hurrying towards the door. Her long, straight, ash black hair was messy but she couldn't have cared less. The damn thing was so thick and slippery it was a mission impossible to try and keep it braided during the night. She was equally indifferent about her dark circles. If someone hadn't seen dark circles by now then it was about bloody time.

“I'm poor and I'm not buying anything!” she announced at the same moment she flung the door open. A wide smile spread on Iris’ black lips as her friend opened the door, wearing her silly carbuncle morning gown and the fluffy moogle slippers. Even when not trying to, Silke looked dashing in Iris’ eyes. The mess of a black hair, like that of a demon from eastern tales just enhanced the effect.

“...And Im not sellin’ anythin’, mi star on da night sky!” She stepped up to the woman, wrapping her arms tightly around her, giving her a squeeze, and breathing in the familiar scent of ink and gunpowder... the scent of home.

“...Fockin’ ‘ell, I was afraid ya ‘ad left da buildin’ already! I missed ya, gal!” Iris released her friend, quickly fixing her round glasses, which the hug had tipped on the side, which together with her messy locks, made Silke look bit like she had just survived an explosion. “...I just ‘ave to tell ya everythin’! Ya wont believe whut’s ‘appenin’ back at tha manor... A major shitestorm. I guess... uhh... someone finally dropped a match onto the fockin’ barrel o’ gunpowder dats been sittin’ casually between Grumpy and Lucy... Oh...”

Iris stepped aside, giving some space to Eva, still standing behind her on the narrow stairway. “...Dis is... Evangelin’! I stumbled upon ‘er in tha church, ya know... She was comin’ to look for a goddess, and she found mi instead! Which... in tha end is not too far as a heckin’ outcome, or whut do ya dink? Aniway, we are kinda ‘avin’ a deal... Guess Grumpy is hirin’ her, so she can pay mi for company... ‘Er gal left ‘er to fock ‘round wid sum random lad somewhere, so I’m kinda ‘elpin’ ‘er to fock dat said gal outta ‘er head!”

Then she turned back to Evangeline. “Cinnabun, dis is Silke! Mi heckin’ fallen angel... Isn’t she just dashin’?” A sly smirk played on Iris’ lips, as she glanced towards Eva, before quickly moving her attention back to the viera at the door. “...Ya ‘ave dat tea of yer’s still, darlin’? Guess who’s been almost heckin’ sober for a month!” Iris was chattering up a storm. Though Evangeline hadn’t known her for long, she knew that this had to be unusual for the sarcastic, abrasive woman she had just met a few days ago.  Around everyone else Iris painted over herself a veneer of prickly indifference that kept most, if not all, at arm’s length.  Even Arsene, who she seemed to be most accustomed to, or at least the most comfortable with, was still held at quite the distance. This though... this was different. Evangeline couldn’t hope to compare to this. Iris was beaming, ecstatic to see this woman... a jumble of words exiting her mouth at neck-breaking speed.

She was almost tripping over her words trying to tell Silke anything and everything she possibly could. Somewhat dazed, Evangeline inspected Silke as Iris spoke, half-tuning out what the slight viera was saying. The woman in the doorway was undeniably adorable. She was clearly frazzled, having probably just woken up to the sound of someone at her door. She seemed bookish, from a combination of her round glasses which sat slightly askew on her nose, her frame, and what Eva could see of her dwelling... which seemed to be crammed wall-to-wall with literature.

This was about to be a long conversation... a visit between Iris, the woman who had Eva wrapped around her finger, and Silke, the woman with whom Iris seemed to be very much in love. At the thought of the word ‘love’ the little green monster struck at Evangeline’s stomach. Its spines were particularly sharp today... Eva didn’t know how much of this she could take. She tried to hide her pensive expression with a smile, waving slightly to Silke as Iris mentioned her name. Evangeline watched with mounting horror as Iris kept talking, though... explaining not only everything that had happened after the incident at the church, but also mentioning what exactly had happened during the incident... namely the carnal encounter the two of them had shared, and the fact that Eva was paying for Iris’ company. She supposed it had been foolish to hope that Iris wouldn’t delight in telling every living soul of their arrangement, but it was still painfully embarrassing. She looked at the ground, her face hot to the point that she thought she might be pressing it against an oven. She could barely extract words, but managed to anyways.

“G-good morning... p-pleased to make your acquaintance”, Evangeline was able to squeak, and accompanied it with a modest curtsy, hands gripping tightly at the skirts of her dress. She was unable to bring herself to meet eyes with Silke, instead choosing to inspect the steps upon which she was standing, waiting for her to laugh... or respond... somehow. Iris let out such a sudden flood of words that at first, Silke, who was still half asleep, couldn't do anything but stare her eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. She clumsily patted Iris' back while she hugged her.

“Me? Nooo...”, Silke gave a laugh. “If I, for once, get to sleep late, then hells yeah that's what I'm gonna do. I wonder whose voidspawn's ingenious idea it was that everyone should get up while it's still dark? Purely idiotic, if you ask me. Messes up our natural circadian rhythm and probably causes a whole lot of heart attacks and such, geez...”

When Iris started to talk about the drama between Varg and Lucian, Silke couldn't help but lick her lips greedily. She was usually allergic to drama, but that certain one was like straight from some really bad soap opera. Silke had never truly understood people who were too interested in others' business and loved to gossip, but because of this one case she had perhaps started to understand them on some level.

Silke let out a frustrated sound. “You must tell me immediately if something happens, Iris”, she pleaded. “I'm having lots of exams coming up and I'm very very busy, but I'm still willing to halve my cramming time if it means I can witness the outcome. Make your way into my school if you have to, aight? Rather early, so we can grab some popcorn.”

When it was time for Iris' introduction of Evangeline, and description of what they had been doing together, Silke felt an unpleasant sting of jealousy. She had been so absorbed by the delicious news Iris had brought, that she hadn't paid much attention to the other viera until now. Evangeline seemed like complete opposite – at least externally – to Silke. She seemed somewhat older, her body was toned and her face radiated health. Her dark skin and flaming hair reminded Silke of a torch or pyre.

'And the most important thing, she wants to fock', a little voice in Silke's mind reminded.

Its goal had probably been to upset her, but instead of pushing it away like usual, Silke just let it linger there, agreeing with it. Indeed, this woman was able to give Iris what I can't, she thought to herself.

What in the world was going on in Iris' mind, though? Why was she telling her this? Silke was aware of Iris' occupation, but still this wasn't the kind of information one just blurted loudly around like that. Silke both hated and loved her imagination, which was able to paint pictures, like works of art rich in detail in her mind. It helped tremendously with studying. Though, in situations like this it burned some truly unwanted images on her retinas forever. Besides, now her neighbors knew as well. The other two could see very pale pink splotches appearing on her cheeks before they vanished almost instantly.

“That's... interesting?” Silke noted and nodded politely at Evangline, trying to shoo away the mental image while looking at her. Immediately Silke rebuked herself. Who the heck said 'interesting' after someone had been just describing in detail about their intercourse? Well... herself, apparently.

“I mean, um... nice”, she corrected, smiling – while hoping it didn't look too much like a grimace - and slapping her hands together. “I'm glad to hear you're having a good time with each other.”

Silke rebuked herself again. 'Nice' sounded even more awkward.

“Um... yes, I have tea”, she answered Iris, while stepping aside so that the other two could enter. “And cocoa too. Come in, come in. I want to hear more.” 'Oh. My. Gods', she thought. “Like, IN GENERAL.” Silke was acting weirdly, Iris thought to herself, as she stepped past her friend, letting her hand brush against Silke’s rear as she entered the house. Well, Silke was the type who usually acted weirdly, but this? Even for Silke, this would be considered weird. Iris had noticed the slight blush rising on her friend’s pale cheeks, yet fading away as quickly as it had appeared, like a dream you suddenly wake up from. Had it even been there?

Silke did blush, but in the end, it was very rare for the woman. Such thing sometimes occurred when Silke was angry and confused... or wanted to take something cute home. But right now? This was different. Was... Silke jealous? Silke? Jealous of her?

Well, if the situation was so, it was just as Iris had planned it in the first place! But why did she feel a sting in her heart? Like someone was pushing an icicle through it.

Pale viera walked up to the sofa, and threw herself down onto it, next to Laurence who rose his head, giving a quick glance at her, before curling up once again. Iris gave the dog a gentle rub behind his little orange ear. The shiba seemed like he had mostly forgiven what Iris had done back in the day, but still had some mistrust towards her.

“Ohh, cocoa would be just frickin’ lovely...”, she was about to add if Silke could top it with a sliver of rum, but realized it was not the best idea, after she had just told her friend about the month sober... Or well, sober was maybe not the right word to describe it, as Iris still drank. A month without drinking herself under the table, maybe?

All in all, Iris knew Silke never had alcohol at home. The ghostly viera had a bad habit to grab a bottle under stress, and that’s what Silke definitely had with her studies... Stress.

Iris followed Eva, as her companion walked in after her. Keeping her eyes locked onto woman, she gave a quick, meaningful nod towards the armchair, with a blue carbuncle plushie laying on its armrest. The icicle was digging its way into her heart, and having Eva sit down next to her on the sofa, would bring on the hammer, that would smash the icicle right through.

“...Its a fockin’ all out war back dere at tha manor soon, I tell ya...”, Iris started, crossing her legs, while still giving some affection to the shiba inu. The soft fur of the dog helped to ease her nerves a bit.

Keeping her eyes locked on Silke, working on her small kitchen of a kind, Iris went through everything that had happened. From Lucian finding her and Eva from the church, to their arrival into the manor, and from Varg possibly hiring Eva, to Arsene bringing in the hitman couple to guard the property.

“It’s a heckin’ powder keg back dere, sweetie... Dat ding only needs a fockin’ spark, and it’s gonna blow up, wipin’ tha city off tha map.” Iris’ black lips curled up into a devilish grin. “I’ll make sure to keep ya informed of every heckin’ turn, Blackbird... Because dis shite will end up to tha fireworks of a fockin’ lifetime, I tell ya... Blacksoul is pissed off like a heckin’ hog in a heat. Lucy’s gonna eat ‘is meals wid ‘is arsehole for a good while, if he’s to shows his fockin’ smug face in tha manor..” Evangeline ascended the stairs behind Iris, still trying to avert her eyes from Silke, who seemed to have ignored at least some of the comments entirely. She seemed so very different from Eva had thought she would be... in a lot of ways, Evangeline had pictured that Silke would be... much like Iris. Another rough-around-the-edges, prickly dancer that would have loved the opportunity to have a laugh with Iris over Eva’s embarrassment. Not someone who, for every intent and purpose, appeared to be a scholar.

And yet here they were, wandering into the home of someone who probably possessed more intelligence in her little finger than Evangeline had in her whole body. That was... an odd feeling... was she intimidated? Was this the sort of thing that Iris truly wanted? Scholarly discussions? Perhaps that was why Evangeline was so thoroughly bound to the often referred to position ‘second fiddle.’ What an odd sensation... she wasn’t used to feeling like this. Intimidation came in the form of combat prowess, no?  Eva hadn’t felt intimidated by anyone in years... Even Andreas, the man who had swept Solenna away, hadn’t intimidated her. Over seven fulms tall... strong as an ox... but Eva had been sure that she could have placed his face squarely in the dirt had he come to fight her. This, though... this was different.

Eva entered the room, taking a seat in the armchair at Iris’ behest. Silke certainly liked... what were these things called... the little green aether pups that she had heard some of the other soldiers in her regiment discussing on occasion. Eva did think they were rather cute... but they must be difficult to hug, given that they weren’t... solid? Or were they? Evangeline looked to Silke again, standing there... damnably adorable still, in her half-awake state. She seemed to be waiting for something.

“Oh... um... tea, if you don’t mind. Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

She managed keeping her best straight face. Her eyes drifted across the bookshelves, packed with literature, with knowledge. Knowledge that Evangeline couldn’t hope to touch... not in a thousand years. She enjoyed reading her history books... but that was another thing entirely. It was just stories of battles and who won them and why. It wasn’t... whatever this was.

Study of aether...of magic, perhaps? That would explain the near ubiquitous presence of carbuncles throughout the apartment. Evangeline’s mind fell back through time for a moment though... to Iris in the church. Mentioning magic. Almost spitting as she did. She seemed so displeased by the practice at the time... so why would Silke be studying magic? Perhaps this was something different... chemistry... biology... who could guess?

“Wh-what is it... that you study, if you don’t mind me asking?” Stuttering again... damn. Why was this woman so intimidating?

Evangeline could hardly stand it, feeling this way. Stammering and stuttering around Iris was one thing... Eva had thought her a special case. She clenched her fists, looking around the room again to try and distract herself when... she saw… A puppy. An adorable little... Evangeline didn’t know the name of the breed... but it had a cute little pointed nose and triangular ears and orange fuzzy fur and it was laying next to Iris and it completely derailed Eva’s train of thought. She looked at it for a moment, sitting there and enjoying scritches from Iris, before blurting out the first thing that came back to her mind.

“C-can I pet your dog?”

Silke shivered slightly when Iris' hand touched her butt. The hells was she first bragging about her intercourses with Evangeline and then right after touching Silke's arse? Sure, Silke and Iris weren't in a relationship and Iris was free to do whatever and with whoever she wanted. Silke had already – bitterly – accepted it. But the thing that baffled her right now was that Iris just had to rub it in. Why? Silke couldn't even imagine being capable of doing something like that to the people she cared about the most. Silke had been having an impression there hadn't been any bad blood left between herself and Iris. Had she been wrong the whole time?

For a fleeting moment Silke felt an urge to yell 'You know what? Fock it!' and kick Iris out again. Maybe even speed up her departure with some carefully aimed lightning bolts. She got a hold of herself almost right away, though. She could never become a revered archmage if she behaved like some wretched punk or let her feelings get a grasp of her.

"Hot cocoa and tea - coming right up!" Silke announced after closing the door and turning around, smiling widely this time. The gesture was forced, perhaps, but at least she felt it wasn't as stiff as it had been earlier. She was getting good at this. Perhaps she should've become an actress instead. "I have whipped cream and marshmallows to put into cocoa, and milk and sugar for tea. Which one do you guys prefer, or would you rather drink your stuff completely without?"

"I'll take frickin' both, sweetheart!" Iris answered. "Like a heckin' mountain o' whipcream... and couple o' marshmallows... Whut ever ya wanna stick onto it, go for it."

"Milk and honey if you have it... or, um... milk and sugar if you don't. Thank you...", Evangeline scratched her jawline reservedly, immediately regretting requesting honey. It was a common food in Gridania, but probably was more of a delicacy in Ishgard.

At least Evangeline seemed like a civilized case, Silke thought. The dark viera didn't seem to enjoy the situation as much as Iris did, which meant she probably hadn't even known about Silke – or Iris' occupation for that matter – before she had agreed to... whatever they had going on right now. Silke had heard the saying 'opposites attract', but had never truly understood it. She still didn't. Silke had had many relationships with very different people than herself and all of them had ended into a catastrophe.

Silke filled a pot with fresh water and threw some firewood into the stove. A bright flame appeared from thin air just above her fingertip, and Silke blew it into the stove, igniting the firewood. While waiting for the water to boil she was digging her messy cabinet and trying to find the damn whipped cream and marshmallows. Meantime, Iris was explaining in more detail what had occurred lately. When Iris started to talk about the incident in the old church, something happened that felt like gods themselves would've decided to spit in Silke's face just for laughs.

She had found some godsdamned huge jar of jam from the cabinet, lifted it with her other hand, and noticed the marshmallows behind it. Keeping an eye on the water, listening to Iris repeating things Silke wouldn't have wanted to hear about, and trying to reach the marshmallow package from the cabinet that looked like an aftermath of some imperial mana bomb, had apparently been too much for her concentration to bear. Her grip slipped and the jar crashed into the sink, making a noise that was probably heard at the other side of the block of flats.

"Shiteberries!" she blurted with passion. "It's all good, no biggie!" she yelled towards the living room. "I've got it under control!"

The jar had broken into three huge chunks. Luckily there didn't seem to be any shards in the jam. 'I must save it!' was Silke's first thought after recovering from the worst wave of annoyance. 'One does not simply throw away food. No, no.'

"Black magic and summoning!" Silke yelled towards the living room again over the sound of boiling water, while grabbing an empty jar and starting to spoon the jam from the sink into it. "And pet ahead, if he lets you, miss Evangeline! He tends to be suspicious towards strangers and warms up slowly!"

Lucian had always given Silke the creeps. That was the main reason she liked to make fun of him. The things one feared tended to lose their power if one was able to make jokes of them. Despite Silke holding up her cheerful facade, and simultaneously containing her rage, a tiny glimmer of genuine amusement dug its way through it all while a mental image of the highborn elezen eating his meal with his arse had formed in Silke's mind. She bit her lip so that she wouldn't have laughed aloud.

"Thanks. Now I can't unsee that one either", she mumbled while spooning and having a race against time: how much jam could she save before it was all dripped down the sewer? “Isn’t she just a fockin’ dashiest piece o’ ass ya ‘ave ever seen?” Iris laid back onto the sofa, legs crossed and one hand rubbing Laurence’s neck. “If the gods are real, dey were fockin’ horny as a rat when dey made dat gal. And I bet dats why dey made her a heckin’ bookworm in tha first place. To keep ‘er all for demselves! Selfish fockers...”

Silke was still acting weird though, and it drove Iris crazy. She knew her friend well enough to tell when something was amiss, and now there definitely was something. Silke’s smile had been forced... faked even. It was the smile Silke had on her lips, when she was in a very unpleasant situation, and just wanted to get through it fast. Eva also, had started to act weird after entering the apartment. What was wrong with everyone today?

Deep inside, Iris noticed she started to regret bringing the two into the same room in the first place. What had started as a perfect plan in her head, had suddenly turned into a weird dream, where she was locked into an apartment with two beautiful women, who she... for different reasons cared for? Yet those women were but a couple of meatsuits, which some creature had possessed.

Iris wanted to wake up. Though, if she had truly been in a dream, a loud crash echoing from the kitchen at the halfway of her story would have waken her up.

“Yer okai back dere, Blackbird?!” Iris shouted towards the kitchen, after hearing Silke’s loud curse, startling Laurence from his sleep in the process. "It's all good, no biggie!" answered Silke’s voice almost instantly.

Iris gave a quick glance towards Evangeline, rising her brow with a shrug, and finished the story, finally getting up to the point where they had left the manor. Silke was still in the kitchen. The sound of a boiling water had rose to company the weird sound of scraping metal on metal. It seemed like Silke had no intention on moving the pot off the flames though.

“Fockin ‘ell, I’ll go see whut the fock is ‘appenin’ back dere... Dats not like ‘er... at all.”

Iris stepped past Evangeline, brushing her cheek with the back of her finger while going, and headed into a kitchen. The sight before her eyes made Iris’ jaw drop for a moment. Silke, scraping jam out of the sink like her life depended on it, and a teapot, boiling over on the stove, sending steaming hot water down on the flames with an angry hissing that sounded like a pit of snakes.

“What tha fock, Silke?!” Iris finally blurted out, as she got back her voice all of the sudden. She rushed to the stove, moving the pot off the flames, but while doing so, her hand slipped on the handle, sending the lid flying off and spilling boiling hot water onto her arm. “Shiteclippers! Fockin’ ghhh...”, her curse turned into a shriek, but she still somehow managed to place the pot onto the table.

Her arm was on fire, and the pale white skin had started to gain pinkish tint and couple of blisters where the water had hit. “Silke, whut the ‘ell is wrong wid ya, sweetheart?! Ya did not get ani water on ya, did ya?!” With the heat still radiating up on her arm, like thousand little needles, Iris took a grip of Silke’s shoulders, turning the woman around, and wrapping arms around her.

With Silke’s affirmation, Evangeline slowly approached the cute little dog and extended her hand to him, hoping he would be okay with her lightly scratching behind his ear. She was as gentle as she could be, carefully extending her digits towards his nose, when a loud crash from the kitchen caused her to start, feeling like she jumped almost a yalm into the air.  Her heart rate picked up and she looked around, hoping for something weapon-adjacent to be present in the room somewhere.  She settled on the poker by the fireplace, reaching for it slowly, when Iris shouted back to her, seemingly unperturbed by what could’ve been the shattering of a window.

“It’s all good, no biggie!” Silke’s voice sounded off from the kitchen.

Evangeline relaxed slightly, a bit less worried of an intruder now. She wondered how Iris could be so blase-faire about the whole deal, given that she seemed to have more than a few people that would happily see her dead. Iris finished her story regardless, wrapping it up and muttering, “Fockin ‘ell, I’ll go see whut the fock is ‘appenin’ back dere...  Dats not like ‘er..at all.”

As she walked past Evangeline, heading towards the kitchen, she brushed the dark skinned viera’s cheek as she passed, causing her heart rate to quicken once more. Evangeline sighed and went to turn her attention back to the dog, when she heard further exclamations from the kitchen, followed by a shriek from Iris. Before Eva could think about what she was doing, she was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, poker in hand, just in time to see Iris throw her arms around Silke.

The pot on the table filled with still-bubbling water and the splash on the ground told the story of what had happened, though. Though Evangeline’s emotions battled in her mind, coming to a head in the face of the two women embracing, it was as if someone had flipped the switch in her head, finally, that said ‘high pressure situation’.

Her emotions dulled, and the world grew grey around her, as her body took over. She took the pot, placing it on a potholder with ease, to ensure that the table wouldn’t burn. Placing the poker in the corner, she moved to Iris, who she assumed was the most injured. Stepping around the two, Evangeline assessed for injuries, quickly noticing the blisters rising on Iris’ forearm and asked: “Silke, do you know how to dress a wound?”

"The hells would I know? Do I look like some damn white mage?" Silke cried out, sounding both frustrated and shocked, but still clearly more of the former.

“Right... very well. I know little of burns, but I will go find someone who does. Run cold water over the burn, and I’ll go find an apothecary for proper bandages and whatever else we need. There is one near here, isn’t there?”

Evangeline stepped back from the two. She didn’t touch Iris. She didn’t touch either of them. It wasn’t like Iris wanted her here, anyways... this was all she could do. Perhaps she could be useful, and the two could be left to themselves. At Silke’s response, she turned and walked from the room, out the door and into the chilly Ishgardian air. Silke twitched slightly when Iris hugged her, but she still wrapped her arms timidly around her, shocked that Iris had just gotten boiling water on her. Silke wasn't squeezing like Iris did, though. The heck was she getting all close and personal so suddenly?

"What's wrong you ask, princess?" Silke repeated, slightly aghast. "Everything was just fine before you came and started throwing the pot around! I accidentally dropped some godsdamned jar, which appeared to be heavier than it first seemed, into the sink. I would've taken care of the pot in a moment! ...And... no, I didn't get any water on me", she added a bit more calmly, when they let go of each other.

Then Evangeline, too, arrived into the kitchen. These two dumbasses were like some damn knights trying to save a damsel in distress, Silke thought sourly. While Evangeline was examining Iris' burns, Silke stared at the two, gritting her teeth. There she was again, with her older and more mature companion, who - without a doubt - already had some renowned career behind her.

Silke took a quick glance at herself; her carbuncle morning gown and moogle slippers. Were they the reasons everyone insisted treating her like a child? Because she liked cute things? Or was it something in herself? Something about her behavior, perhaps? Her absent-mindedness? The farther she got with her studies the more sceptical people seemed to be about her fending. First Asagi, then Silke's school'mates', and now even Iris.

When Evangeline asked did Silke know anything about taking care of wounds, she couldn't help but cry out: "The hells would I know? Do I look like some damn white mage?"

She could put a bandage on paper cut but that was pretty much it. The yell had already left her lips before Silke remembered she had just made herself a promise to be more sophisticated and controlled. Before she got her mouth open again, Evangeline was already on her way and had stepped outside.

Silke stared at the door for a while. At least Evangeline had had a good reason to go, but it also annoyed Silke, that every single time, when she and Iris were spending time with other people than each other, Asagi or Arsene – which was very rare – sooner or later their company vanished somewhere, leaving Silke and Iris alone. Why, why did it always happen? Of course Silke enjoyed spending time with Iris, but she was also craving other friends. She didn't want to be depending on only one person. Yet it was either her or Iris - or worse, both of them - who managed to drive away other people. As Eva had left the building, Iris looked at the blisters on her aching arm, and walked up to the sink. What was left of the jam, was now lazily making its way down the hole. It was unlikely that cold water would do any good at this point, but Iris opened the tap anyway, letting the ice cold water run for a while, washing away the jam, before sticking her arm under it, grimacing.

“Yeah, guess I heckin’ overreacted. The damn pot was throwin’ water around like a frickin’ volcano, and I freaked out, as I thought it boild over onto ya...” Iris  looked at her arm, still holding it under the running water. It was not looking pretty, but could have been worse. Maybe it could heal without leaving a scar.

“Just look at mi, Blackbird. I keep destroyin’ thin’s, no matter whut I do. For fock’s sake, I hated mi mother, for being a damn useless wreck she was. And now? Shite. Its almost like tha heckin’ apple surely wont fall far from da tree...”, she gave a quick glance towards her friend, before closing the tap, and carefully drying her onto a towel. “...I’m heckin’ joyful yer alright though. Dink we could still make dat cocoa?” Iris walked up to the pot, peeking inside it, and coming to the conclusion it was still half-full of water. Maybe it would do for three smaller cups.

The burning pain on the arm started to return soon after she had dried it up, but, biting hardly onto her lip, she more or less successfully hided the fact from Silke. “Sssshite...”, viera hissed under her breath, feeling like someone had been spanking her arm with a bunch of nettles for an hour straight.

Years back, when she was still living on the streets of Limsa Lominsa, the guards had caught her from pickpocketing, and rolled her in a huge bush of nettle for it. The feeling on her arm, brought the old memory to life in her head.

“...W..Whut ya gonna drink, Blackbird? Tea maybe? C... Could s...share a cocoa wid ya too... Ya know whut dey ‘ave in dose fancy heckin’ restaurants... Dose straws dat go whirly around each other, and ya can share a drink all heckin’ romantically and shite. We could get one of dose. ‘Aight?”

This was one of those moments Silke found herself once again wondering: how the hells did Iris do it? At one moment she was all sweet and thoughtful, then a couple of minutes later a complete arsehat. And then a moment later sweet again, and so on. Or perhaps the most important question was: why? And which one was the real one?

"I'd rather drink all of my cocoa by myself", Silke explained after a short pause, with a hint of formality in her voice. "I should probably start drinking from a barrel or something anyway, since regular mugs or glasses seem to contain way too little for my tastes."

“Well...”, Iris shrugged, knocking the pot with her fingernail. “Dis thin’ is ‘alf empty, so wont fill a barrel wid dis, but... We should all still get a heckin’ mugful...”

Iris’ voice lacked the energy it had a moment ago, suddenly sounding rather tired. Her gaze traveled in the room, from the door, to the flames still dancing on the stove, and to a carbuncle clock, hanging on the wall. She could not look Silke in the eyes. She very well knew she had once again let down the woman she loved. And that love burned in her chest, hotter than the flames on the stove... harder to ignore than the burning sensation on her arm. Yet why was it she could only bring misery into Silke’s life? Time after time after time.

“...I’m gonna find dat whipcream and candies, if ya mix tha cocoa, okai..?” she finally sighed, moving up to the cabinet, starting to go through the foodstuff Silke had stored. Soon she pulled out a small back of marshmallows, waving it in the air, in front of Silke’s eyes. “Lookie-look whut I found! Lets just stack a mad pile of dese onto tha whipcream! It will be fockin’ beautiful... Like a heckin’ tiny snow castle... ‘Aight?”

*** Evangeline walked briskly down the steps, her goal clear in her mind. A chill sat in the air, the same that seemed to sit permanently in Ishgard, regardless of the time of year.  Eva could see her breath, just barely, a vaporous cloud that was constantly being remade and dispersed as she exhaled and strode through it. She wore a wry smile, unsure of what exactly she should be feeling right now. She had time to walk, time to herself, time with her own thoughts. Though this, to her, felt like a punishment worse than death, perhaps she could straighten this whole thing out in her head.  Find out where she stood.  What she should do next.

Very well... let’s look at the facts, she thought, releasing a sigh inwardly.

Fact: Iris and I just met.  We have formed an odd sort of arrangement that has her spending time with me for compensation.

Fact: Iris and I slept together. I enjoyed it and she seemed to enjoy it. Evangeline moved slightly out of the way, angling her body to the side so that she could fit between a merchant’s stand and a heavyset man that was moving in the other direction.

Fact: I pulled Iris from a breakdown. She seems to struggle with another personality of some kind. She seemed expectant that I would leave after finding that out. I did not. Also, she fell asleep in my arms. It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing she usually does. She wiped her nose. It must surely be red at this point, with how chilly it was outside.

Fact: She has shown some level of interest in me. She dreaded stating this next one to herself.

Fact: I have... fallen for Iris. Against my better judgement in every way. She has a pull over me that I haven’t truly experienced before, and I can’t fight it.

F-fact... Iris... I-Iris is in l-love... with S-Silke.

That thought was what did it. That was the one that set the tears flowing. Eva kept walking, her goal still clear in her mind, but with tears pouring down her cheeks. How had she done this to herself... jumped straight from one failing relationship into another one. She had left Solenna... sweet, wonderful Solenna...for this? A pale, thin viera woman... so thin that she seemed malnourished... who could barely manage to give her the time of day if she asked?

And on top of all of that... she was so clearly in love with Silke. The woman was all over her! Iris did nothing but praise Silke... her perfect little angel. The apple of her eye. This begged the question, though... why weren’t the two of them together? Was it Iris? Her refusal to be tied down? Or was there something about Silke that Evangeline didn’t know…? There’s no way...no way Iris wouldn’t have said something.  She must have confessed her feelings to Silke.

Evangeline turned a corner, tears still stinging at her face. She wiped at her nose again, and then her eyes, wiping them first and then rubbing at them, hoping that she didn’t look to be too much of a mess. She sniffled, and continued walking, seeing the Apothecary’s sign in the distance. Perhaps she should just excuse herself, and return to the manor. Maybe the two of them wanted time alone.

But... if that was the case, why had Iris invited her? She had seemed fairly eager to bring Eva along... despite her outburst in the bathroom. It was just... so damnably confusing. Did Iris want her?  Did Iris not want her? Was she a substitute for Silke? Or was she something different?

All of these questions went unanswered, though, as Evangeline stepped through the door to the Apothecary. She must have looked quite the sight, 6 fulms, 2 ilms of musclebound viera, ducking under the doorway to keep room enough for her ears as she did. Flushed from the cold, tears clinging to her cheeks... not something you would normally see on the streets of Ishgard. She stepped up to the shopkeeper, clearing her throat.

“G-good morning…”, she sniffled again, wiping at her nose. “Do you have anything that would help with a burn?  And some clean bandages?”

The merchant, a rather young looking miqo'te man, took a moment to first absorb the sight of Evangeline, and then another to process what she was asking for.

“Uhm... er.. .y-yes. The aloe lotion, over in the corner on the second highest shelf. And we have bandages right here at the counter. Just... apply the lotion, it should help with the pain. Wrap it in bandages, and change them every four hours. You’ll probably want to reapply the lotion when you change them.”

Evangeline nodded in thanks, and efficiently collected her goods, paying for them with gil from a small pouch she kept tied around her waist.  She took her leave, waving at the young man, who looked as if he wanted to say something as she was leaving, but decided not to.

She exited the shop, back into the cold air. It was starting to feel a bit more punishing, and Eva could see a few snowflakes starting to dot the sky in the distance. She would be back soon. She almost wanted to drop off the bandages and then leave, but... maybe she should stay a little bit. See how things played out. Maybe she could get a little bit more understanding of the situation... because she refused to let go of Iris without being sure she wasn’t wanted. She kept moving forward, upset, angry, sad, and tired...but a bit more determined than she had been a few minutes ago.

***

Silke gave Iris a small nod, before grabbing a pouch of cocoa powder and starting to spoon it into the cups. She was working near the small kitchen window, glancing at the gray inner court every now and then, and her back turned to Iris.

Overall Silke saw herself as a positive person. She didn't truly hate anything, although she often joked about it. Hate was such a powerful word. But if someone had asked her to point just one thing she could say she truly hated, it would've been mixed signals, messing with her. Most people tended to mess with her in one way or another, and at least with her inner circle Silke wanted to feel safe enough to lower her defenses. Keeping them up constantly was tiring and it ate her from the inside.

'It was supposed to be over', she thought. 'We had our misunderstandings and arguments, we overcame them and we were just fine. Why did she have to continue it? She could've done her thing with Evangeline, heck, even bring her here. But why rub it in? I'm too tired for this shite.'

When Iris found the marshmallows and said they'd make the cocoa toppings like a snow castle, Silke felt tears trying to come out. Stubbornly she pushed them back while biting her lip, before glancing at Iris over her shoulder, smiling and agreeing lightly:

"Sounds fancy. Just the thought of it makes me almost feel our blood vessels blocking up." She turned around and started to stir the drinks. "But still, oh, so delicious. Why must everything unhealthy be so delicious?"

Silke glanced outside again, towards the gray sky. After the exams of this month were over, the students could choose a place to go study more how things worked in practice. So far they had been mostly studying theory of all general subjects, and only doing some smaller and safer experiments while their teachers had been watching them closely. Now was the time for action, and the beginning of specialized studies. Silke was about to dive into the studies of a battle mage and destructive alchemy. She pondered to herself which post could possibly be the farthest one away from Ishgard. “Why? Because tha world is a heckin’ unfair place, Blackbird”, Iris said. “In a damn perfect world, we would be livin’ in a frickin’ castle somewhere in tha mountains. ‘Ave a damn barrel o’ cocoa, a bath’ouse and a fockin’ basement full o’ blastin’ powder and booze to play wid.”

Iris rolled a single marshmallow between her fingers, squeezing it down, and watching it  slowly buff back up, as she loosened her grip. “...Yet ‘ere we are. In a fockin’ apartment flat, in a city filled with damn arseplucks who dont get us. Like fockin’ birds in a cage...”, she flipped the candy into her mouth, turning to Silke, who was still working with her cocoa mix.

Silke was so beautiful. In her own, rather curious way, she was stunning. After a while, Iris caught herself staring at her friend, the marshmallow still lingering on her tongue. Viera shook her head, picking up another candy from the bag, and reaching it towards Silke, holding it an inch away from woman’s lips. Silke’s spoon stopped moving, and she placed it down on the table. Carefully, she took the candy from Iris, holding it for a moment, and placing it into her mouth.

Oh, how much Iris had hoped for the woman to pick the candy from her fingers, using her lips. She had almost seen it happening in her mind, but then again... Silke would never do such a thing. What was she even thinking? Most likely nothing. The tears were burning her eyes, almost masking away the burning sensation on her arm, but she kept them in, flipping another candy into her mouth. She missed though, the soft candy hitting her on the cheek, and falling onto the table.

“...I’m workin’ mi fockin’ ass off to make sum cash. It’s... gonna take some time, as yer sissie has cut mi shifts to ‘alf lately, but... I’m gettin’ dere, Silke... And... And when I ‘ave got sum savin’s, I thought I could... Ya know... Get sum own place sumwhere, and I thought...” A sound of door opening interrupted Iris in the middle of the sentence, and she hissed a curse under her breath. “...We are in tha fockin’ kitchen, Evangelin’!” she shouted towards the doorway, her long, sickly fingers gripping the bag of marshmallows spasmodically. Evangeline slid the door open, a paper bag of medical supplies clutched in her hand. She had tried to wipe at her eyes and her nose as much as possible, and though she had cleared them both (or so she thought) she could only assume that her smudged eyeliner and her most likely running mascara would display that she had been crying. She supposed that she would deal with that when the time came-for now, at least, she wanted to focus on the task at hand. Iris’ arm needed to be bandaged... she must be in incredible pain right now. Eva’s feelings could wait.

She startled at the sound of Iris’ shout. She seemed upset... which stood to reason with a burned arm. Eva stepped briskly into the kitchen, noting the two vieras seemed to be casually conversing. Iris must have an impressive pain tolerance... ran through her head as she saw how Iris was standing. When she met Iris’ eyes, though, she was a bit taken aback by the other woman’s expression.

Had Eva done something wrong? Offended her somehow? She shook her head, trying to clear out the stray thoughts. That would be a question for later…

Evangeline moved to the sink, excusing herself as she moved past Silke, and washed her hands. Water, soap, water, towel. She picked up the bag from the side of the sink, wandering over to Iris and removing a roll of bandages, a roll of medical tape, and a small metal container from the bag. She gestured to Iris to show her arm.

“We need to put this cream on your arm. It will calm the burn and lessen the pain. Then we wrap it in this bandage, and change it every four hours until it’s not causing you as much pain. Would you like to sit down so I can get it wrapped up?”  Evangeline looked at Iris and gave the brightest smile she could muster. “I’m fine, Evangelin’! It’s just a heckin’ small burn... Will... ‘eal on its own by the damn mornin’...”, Iris looked at her burned arm, which was visibly shaking, like dead leaves in a breeze. She felt the burn, like it was creeping into her bones. On top of that, the arm had started to ache, sending arrows of pain up towards elbow, and down to her fingers, still holding onto the bag of marshmallows.

“...Fockin’ ‘ell, fine! Do whut ya wish... But change every fourth ‘our, ya say? Ya ‘ear dat, Silke? Yer gonna come over to sleep wid mi, and change mi bandages, and kiss da pain awai, hm?” Iris took one more candy out of the bag, before placing the back on the table, right next to Silke, and making her way to a tiny dinner table, which was loaded with books on a dangerously unsteady pile. Viera sat down onto the chair, placing her elbow onto the table, so her arm was hanging on air. “...Do ya mind, if I smoke, darlin?” Why in the seven hells does she keep talking about 'us', Silke thought, stirring the cocoas even more furiously, although the powder had dissolved into the drinks ages ago. Iris was truly hopeless. Silke had explained to her in words of one syllable why it just wouldn't work, and how it would only cause them both more pain. And despite it all here they were again. Should she draw some godsdamned diagram about it next? It probably wouldn't work either. Iris' skull was apparently too thick for receiving information.

Silke felt, oddly enough, somewhat relieved when she heard the door in the hallway and realized Evangeline had returned. At least now she wouldn't have to listen to all this sweet talk, which made Silke remember all the good moments she and Iris had had together, and which were now like acid poured into her reopened wounds. She grabbed the whipped cream container from the table and squeezed so much cream into every mug, that the cocoas ended up looking like soft ice served in mugs.

Meanwhile Evangeline was tending Iris, Silke took one of the mugs and sat on the other side of the table, opposite the two others. She was observing them closely, while poking her spoon into the cream, taking a full load of hot cocoa and cream, poked it into her mouth, into the cream again and so on. Silke noticed Evangeline's reddish eyes. She had probably been crying. Silke had had somewhat mixed feelings towards her, but right now she was mainly feeling sorry for her. Iris was probably just playing with them both.

Silke couldn't help but frown at Iris' comment. For a moment she froze to stare at her in disbelief. 'Are you focking kidding me?!' she was tempted to ask, and to slam her mug onto the table with full force to give her words some more spice. Then she noticed the mug was one of her favorites: a pink one, that had two black eyes, a snout and a little pigtail on the other side of it. She quickly let go of it, and yanked her shaking hand into her lap.

"I'm not going anywhere", she announced in a steady voice. "I have places to be tomorrow morning. And I doubt you need me to tend you, Iris. I'm sure your other hand is working just fine, and you can do it yourself." She scooped a couple of spoonfuls of whipped cream into her mouth, before adding: "No smoking allowed indoors, they say. The stench gets absorbed into the structures. And if they'll find something to complain about this apartment when I'm about to move, guess who gets to pay the expenses?" “Fine... No smokin’ indoors...”, Iris stuffed the pack of cigarettes back into her pocket with her free hand.

She glanced towards Eva, seeing woman’s red eyes and smeared eyeliner. Of course Eva had been crying. ‘What else I do these days than make people cry?’ Iris thought to herself.

Her gaze traveled from Eva to Silke, sitting on the other side of the table with her pink piggie-mug. Her dearest friend. The girl she loved... the only girl she had ever truly loved... sat there, so distant. Acting almost like she did not even know Iris anymore. There was no snow castle of mashmallows on her mountain of whipcream... And that’s when the storm that had been raging inside Iris broke the dam. She coiled forward on the bench, as the tears started running down freely on her pale cheeks. Dripping onto the burn, like a salty summer rain. Evangeline had been doing rather impressively at holding herself together, she had thought. As she applied the cream very gently to Iris’ arm, she quietly listened to the other two talk. Iris doing her level best to whisper sweet nothings to Silke with a megaphone, and Silke seeming... cold. She sounded even less inclined to put up with Iris than when they had walked in the door.

Iris put away her cigarettes at Silke’s behest, and, with a quick glance around the room, seemed to finally give way to the tension that had been building in her this whole time. She huddled over and burst into tears. Evangeline looked up, shaken by the sudden change in mood, and turned her eyes to Silke, ‘what do I do?’ written across her face.

Silke’s eyes, at first, were locked on Iris, seeming shocked by the outburst. They glazed over with sadness for just a moment... so quickly that Evangeline would have missed it, had she not been searching desperately for an answer on the viera’s bespectacled face. The sadness faded, though, as quickly as it had come. She retained control of herself, and took another drink of cocoa, faster now than she had before.

“Ahh...I-Iris…”, Evangeline said, unsure of how to handle the situation given her companion’s preferences. Iris had specifically said that she didn’t want to be hugged. She didn’t want that kind of relationship with Eva. Evangeline wanted nothing more than to take the woman in her arms and be there for her. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Iris wanted... Iris wanted companionship without the relationship. Because the relationship she wanted eluded her, somehow.

For some reason, her and Silke didn’t work. Eva didn’t know what it was, but there seemed to be a mountain of hurt between the two. She didn’t know what could be done to fix things for these two... and... she hated to admit it to herself... but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to fix this. It felt horrible, and selfish to think of. She wanted Iris to be happy. But she wanted Iris to be happy with her. Wanted Iris to fall into her arms. Wanted Iris to come home to her. Maybe Iris didn’t love her now... but maybe she would. Someday. Maybe... maybe it was best to go with the safest option here.

“Iris?  C-can... can I touch you?” Eva hoped desperately that she would be able to embrace the woman. That she wouldn’t run. That she wouldn’t disappear. She couldn’t just sit here in silence, though. Silke didn’t seem inclined to do anything about this. Eva looked at Silke again, wondering if her temperament had changed. As she did, Silke finished her cocoa, stood up, and walked out of the room. While Silke marched into the living room, she cursed from the bottom of her heart they were all in her place. Normally she would just leave situations like this, but where could she go now that she was already at home? She couldn't fall apart while there were guests around. She was so tired of crying. She felt she had cried for at least ten or more people lately.

Laurence was still sleeping on the sofa. Silke was tempted to hug him, but she decided to skip that as well. She knew if she hugged something right now, she couldn't probably hold it in anymore.

Silke had been waiting for the damn dinner so much. It was supposed to have been a new beginning for them all. If Asagi and Varg could've just started behaving like normal, functional adults around each other, it would've made everyone else's life easier. Now Silke was no longer certain did she even want to go. If Evangeline lived in the estate nowadays, no doubt she'd attend the dinner, too. And Asagi had announced Ainu, who had just arrived to Ishgard, would join them as well. Silke thought it was a terrible idea. The lalafell was a focking sociopath. And Asagi was delusional if she thought she could cure her with motherly love and care. That case was beyond help.

And if Iris thought she'd make Silke's heart melt by crying, she couldn't have been more wrong. Silke kept repeating 'self care' like a manta in her mind, hugging herself and squeezing her arms with her nails, while looking outside from the window, although there was absolutely nothing interesting there. Iris was just like the rest of them. For a moment Silke had hoped she would've been wrong, but it was all the same shite in the end, just wrapped in a slightly different package. “Don’t touch mi!” Iris screeched through her tears, while cradling herself back and forth on the chair. “Don’t ya fockin’ touch mi! W-We had a d-deal, is it so frickin’ ‘ard to u-understand?!”

Still, somewhere deep in her heart, Iris wanted Evangeline to hold her. She wanted Silke to hold her. The woman she had once been, on the streets of Limsa Lominsa, would have given anything in the world, to have someone to wrap arms around her, telling her everything would be alright. That the morning would come, after the stormy night, and it would be beautiful.

Yet that woman was trapped, deep below the layers of fear, hatred and agony. From the corner of her eyes, Iris had seen Silke emptying her cup of cocoa, and walking out of the room. The sight was the executioner, wearing a dirty, black hood, and pulling the lever, which finally dropped the heavy blade down, splitting Iris’ heart in two.

“I... I just w-wanted to build... a heckin’ castle...”, her voice was barely audible. “Wanted to build a damn castle for... for us to l-live in...” Iris got up, her head feeling dizzy.

It was like time in the room had suddenly stopped onto its tracks. The spring inside the clock had broken, freezing the pointers on the same dead moment for ever and ever. She made her way to the cup of cocoa, still resting on the counter. Her long, pale fingers, reached into the bag, picking up a single marshmallow, and placing it on the huge mountain of whipped cream. After looking at it for a while, she reached for another, and another, carefully piling them on the mountain, with her shaking hand.

“...A-And dis is where dey lived...”, she muttered, while balancing the candy onto drink. “...A h-heckin’ beautiful castle, on a mountains... dat rose above t-tha forest, like clouds... Damn lucky bastards... A poet and ‘er muse. I-I bet ya ‘ave never seen such beautiful woman...” Iris paused for a moment, to wipe away tears that were running free over her cheeks, like small, salty rivulets.

“...Yet da poet had a s-secret... ‘Er words were poison. Drippin’ from ‘er mouth, every time she opened it to weave words. Why? ...Because tha poet was... a frickin’ monster... A creature, which was in love wid tha gal, and ‘ad taken a form o’ a poet to be wid ‘er... Yet tha mask on ‘er face did not keep tha poison from drippin’... And all tha words tha poet weaved for dat gal? Dey just tainted ‘er. Made ‘er sick... And when da gal finally withered awai? Tha castle on clouds came crashin’ down, buryin’ tha monster alive...”

As Iris stopped, the pile of marshmallows on the whipped cream had grown into an unstable little mountain on its own. She picked up a spoon, her hand shaking, and scooped up most of the whipped cream and candies. “...Fockin’ crashin’ down...” She placed the spoonful into her mouth, and the sweet taste mixed with the saltiness of her own tears. Evangeline sat, listening to Iris weave her story.  A fairy tale... Eva wondered if this was some sort of response to trauma. Iris’ other self seemed to be lost in a dreamland, so fully steeped in fantasy that she couldn’t recognize any part of reality. This... this seemed to be Iris teetering on the edge. Wavering between reality and fantasy. Because... because she couldn’t bear... to lose Silke. Damnable, adorable Silke.

After a few minutes, Iris’ story ended, the monster that represented her crushed under a mountain of rubble. Evangeline stood up, hoping that she could figure out how to handle this one. Hoping that she could pull Iris from the edge, and not hurl her off of it unintentionally. She took a step forward... and then another. She felt as if her shoes were lined with lead. She reached up, placing a trembling hand on Iris’ shoulder almost instinctively, her mind ceding to her body once again. Iris winced as Eva touched her shoulder, but didn’t seem to react any other way, still poking at the cocoa with her spoon, eyes fixed on the horizon, where dark clouds were gathering.

“Iris…”, Evangeline said quietly. “I may not be much... but I’m not going anywhere. I know I’m not h-her... but I am yours. I’m right here... by your side. And you’re... you’re right here with me. I couldn’t i-imagine how you’re feeling right now... but I’ll stay with you through it. I’m not running away. I...I don’t want to restrict you... or keep you... I just want to be with you…”, she trailed off, biting her lip.

Gods this was difficult. Finding words... she felt like she was just repeating things she had already said. “I-I like you. A lot.” She blurted out. “You’re att... att…”,  her mouth couldn’t find the word, caught in her throat as it was. “Att… attrraactive to me for a lot of reasons. Y-you’re strong...and p-perseverant... you’re beautiful… but I want you to be free, still.”

The tears were welling up in her eyes now... wouldn’t be long before she couldn’t hold them back any more. She thought briefly of offering to talk to Silke... but she was feeling a little too selfish to do that right now. Maybe if Iris asked her... “I want to touch you... to hold you... b-because I think it might help... but I don’t want you to feel trapped…”, she said, her breath catching in her lungs as she did. “C-can you let me? I’ll let go... I’ll let go the moment you ask me to.” Silke heard the other two talking something in the kitchen, and as time passed, she became more and more convinced she either had to get rid of them, or she had to get out. She glanced once again at Laurence sleeping on the couch.

That's right. She hadn't taken him out yet. A perfect excuse. She hurried to her closet and rummaged through it, trying to find some clothes that hadn't been amongst the laundry. The fancy dress Iris had given her was there, but right now Silke would've rather walked out naked than worn it. There were also both of her party dresses. They were all black, but the other one was long and fancy, and didn't have sleeves. Silke had planned to wear it during the dinner. The other one was festive as well, but compared to the first one, way more casual. Its hem reached her knees, it had tight, long puff sleeves, and it didn't reveal as much. That would do, she thought.

Silke quickly changed into it, hoping the other two wouldn't surprise her meanwhile. They didn't. They seemed to have much to talk about.

Simultaneously Silke took off her tiny panties and revealing nightgown. She had used them only for one night, so they hadn't gotten dirty yet. She'd return them to Iris before they left. Silke didn't have to go out without pants, since she also managed to find some old leggings that had gotten short for her. She didn't mind. Nobody would notice their length while she was wearing her high heeled, leathery thighboots.

Silke combed her hair hastily and tied the long, thick ponytail on her crown. Her bangs were somewhat messy, but she didn't bother to do anything to them. Meanwhile looking at herself from mirror she pondered maybe she could go to store too. That would prolong her trip to the city, and Iris and Evangeline would've hopefully focked off by then. Though, Silke was too tired to see too much effort for her make-up. She took a black eyeliner and drew even darker circles on the ones already existing. She painted her lips dark pink, so that she wouldn't look like a corpse.

"Laurence? Are you awake, boy?" she asked in a tired voice, while crouching next to the sofa, gently petting the sleepy dog. Iris heard Eva’s words, but it was like they were coming from somewhere, really far away, behind a veil of fog, even though she knew the woman was standing right behind her. Y-You are not well... s-something is wrong... Iris shook her head, trying to make the voice go away... It didn’t.

I... I want my knight... my knight in a shining armor, where is he? I have... I have lost my knight!

“Shut up!!”

T-The castle, it’s... its crumbling. What is happening..? Help me... please...

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!”

Iris closed her eyes tightly, fingers on her temples, long, clawlike nails, digging in and drawing blood. She took a step back, walking into Evangeline, and leaning back against the woman’s chest.

Evangeline tensed up for a moment. The other woman was struggling, that much was obvious. Eva hoped that she could calm her down. She was digging her nails into her forehead again. Without even thinking about it, Evangeline gently placed her arms around Iris, not holding her back, or restricting her movement, but cuddling up against Iris' lithe frame.

"Iris... Iris you're here with me, okay? It's just you, Iris. Just you and me. You are Iris, nobody else. It's going to be okay... everything is going to be okay. Listen to the sound of my voice... follow me back..."

“...All I wanted to do, is fockin’ build a castle... L-Look at dat!” Iris waved her hands towards Evangeline’s mug, still resting on the counter, untouched. “Dere is no fockin’ castle... W-Where is my knight? I... I want my... I want mi Silke... Cinnabun? I’m.. I’m so...”

Iris felt the arms that were wrapped around her, like a cradle, everything else was hidden behind the deep fog in her head. What was this place? Who was she? And who’s arms were these? She did not really care anymore.

She felt numb, and when the fog finally parted, she was standing on a shore. A shore of white sand, like ground bones reached as far as the eye can see on her both sides. And in front of her? There was a ocean. A black ocean from where the calms waves rolled in to shore, to caress it like a lover’s fingers for just a moment, before falling back into the embrace of the ocean.

Iris took one step... and another. Her eyes caught the arm, where the burn had been only a moment ago. Yet now? There was nothing. The burn was gone, same with the pain it had brought. Tilting her head, Iris poked the skin couple of times, then pinching it between her fingers, and pullin. No pain. Nothing. She kept walking.

The black waves were calling her with a voice she knew, but could not place to who it belonged to. She stepped into water, walking on, until it reached almost to her knees, when she heard another voice from behind her, and turned around. On the waterline, veiled by the fog, she saw three figures. A Three pairs of long ears.

A tall warrior, a woman with long, ghostly hair, and a sickly, corpse-like woman, standing between them. The panic washed over her... she had to walk back, what was she doing? Yet, when she tried to move her legs, they felt like something was holding them from the bottom of the ocean.

Oh gods... You sound like a vulture... They are my favourite birds...

It’s going to be okay... Everything is going to be okay...

S-Something is not right...

The panic washed over Iris, and she jerked her leg again, but instead of getting it free, she lost her balance, falling back into the embrace of deep black. Iris gasped in Evangeline’s embrace, opening her eyes.

Her burned arm looked horrible. Like someone had been ripping out skin from the burned area. She sighed deeply, moving her fingers on top of the burn, and mumbling words under her breath. A faint light, mix of black and shades of purple started dancing around her fingertips, slowly sewing shut the worst of the damage, even though the arm still looked burned and blistered.

“Seven hells, how did this happen?" Iris’ eyes were closed. She seemed stuck... wrapped in a dreamlike state, twitching involuntarily as if she were sleeping. Evangeline’s heart rate rose, as fear gripped at her, clawing at her arms, her legs... she held Iris, still as gently as if her arms were wrapped around the finest glass vase the world had ever seen.

How was Iris suddenly so precious to her? Why did she feel the need to protect her? Some people had baggage...but Iris had wagonfulls. Cities filled with baggage. The smart move would be to walk away from this mess. To set Iris gently down and leave this place... run far away from Ishgard and never return. Maybe she could win Solenna back.

She barely entertained the thought, though, looking at Iris’ face. Pained and thin, weak and scared. Beautiful, pitiful, and now...alone. Eva could leave her no more than she could leave her own legs behind.  She would just have to figure something out.

As Iris opened her eyes, gasping for breath as if she had been drowning, Evangeline’s heart leapt from her chest, relief pouring through her veins. She was about to say something... to thank the twelve that Iris was back... but she watched as Iris sighed and healed her arm.

”Seven hells, how did this happen?” ...What? That... that wasn’t Iris’ voice. Iris couldn’t heal herself. This was wrong. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the other, either. The one who called herself ‘Lareine’ didn’t speak like that.

Evangeline felt herself tense up again, her relief pulled out of her body like air from a drowned person’s lungs. Still keeping her arms gently around the body of Iris, she whispered quietly to the not-Iris:

“In response to your question... you spilled boiling water on your arm. It was burned, and I was caring for it. I have a question of my own, though, if you don’t mind... what is your name?” ‘Burned my arm..?’ the pale viera thought to herself, as her eyes caught Evangeline’s arms, still wrapped around her. ‘Must have been wild evening’.

She had no idea where she was. Nothing in this place seemed in any way familiar to her. She had no memory of burning her arm with boiling water... and the whole idea sounded so foolish in her head. And on top of everything. Who the hell was this woman, embracing her, and tending to her injury? The burn would leave a scar by now... Why did she not tend it with magic herself it in the first place?

Maybe this was all just a twisted dream, and she would wake up sooner or later. The not-Iris reached out towards the counter, picking up the cup of cocoa, and brought it on her lips, taking a sip.

“Well, considering the fact you are asking for my name, I guess you are not my mate... So my second guess would be... One-night stand? Either way, I would be grateful, if you removed your arms from me. As much as this looks like some ending scene on a romance novel, with whole kitchen and hot cocoa... Having a complete stranger just hanging on your ass is rather... obtrusive.”

Placing down her cup, the viera studied the arms that were holding her. Strong... hardy... the woman was either a soldier, or maybe a smith. A farmhand was unlikely, considering the overall cleanliness or the arms and nails. ‘Must be a soldier of some sort’.

“The name is Irene... Irene d’Espair... and I guess this is a pleasure. For now.” The other two could hear a silent snapping against the floor, before Laurence appeared from the living room, stretching and yawning, and wearing a red leather collar, decorated with silver colored, heart shaped staples. A black leather leash had been tied to the collar, and soon Silke appeared from the living room after the dog, holding the other end of the leash, and her high heeled boots snapping the floor as well, though more loudly.

"Guys?" she said, smiling warmly with her narrow lips that resembled a rosebud. However, her turquoise eyes were faded like a corpse's, and devoid of any emotion. "I just remembered the last time I took Laurence out was yesterday evening. I need to go. And I'm going to fetch some groceries too, so don't bother waiting for me. This is going to take a while." Irene turned her head towards the voice, as much as she could with Evangeline’s arms around her. The woman was so tall, Irene could barely peek over her shoulder, but when she did, she saw another viera woman on the doorway. Now this was... curious? How many people were there, calling this lousy hole ‘a home’?

The newcomer was a complete opposite to the viera holding her. Pale skin... straight hair pulled up on a thick ponytail, and dead eyes behind those round glasses smeared with black. The overall impression of the woman was apathetic, even with the beautiful dress and red-painted lips. A junkie most likely... and by the looks of it... a prostitute.

“Well... good morning to you too...” Irene said. At this point, Silke's expectations of the other two and especially Iris had sunken so deep one would've needed a shovel... or no, a digger, to dig them back up to daylight. However, this was the new low. This was the peak of insolence. First Iris had the nerve to strut here, bragging about her fock partner, and now she was behaving like Silke would've interrupted their affectionate moment in her own kitchen.

Instead of giving the lingerie to Iris, Silke squeezed them into her leash free fist and hurled them onto the floor, next to their feet.

"Oh for fock's sake!" she could no longer remain polite. "You two damsels better drag your asses out of my place before I return if you value those pretty faces of yours!"

With that, she flung the door open, marched out with the excited shiba, and slammed the door shut behind her with such power that it made the windows jingle. Irene stared at the viera’s sudden outburst, wincing, as the door was slammed shut. Her gaze traveled from the door to the rather slutty lingerie on the floor, and up to Evangeline. “Your wife, I presume?” Evangeline removed her arms the moment it was requested. She was almost immediately overwhelmed by just how much everything had come crashing down in just the last few minutes. Crying... heartbreak... she could deal with that, and take it in stride. Maybe. For now.

But she had thought...she had thought there were only two of them. What in Halone’s name was she supposed to do now…? She could only hope that what worked last time would work again. As Silke left in a huff, Eva called out to her, hoping she would stop, but she was already well on her way down the stairs, the sound of the door slamming most likely preventing Silke from hearing her regardless.

“Wait, Silke! She’s not…”, she trailed off, realizing how fruitless it was to say ‘not Iris’ given that Silke was long gone already. She was upset... not just upset, but fuming. Evangeline hoped she could do something... but for fuck’s sake if this wasn’t more important right now, she didn’t know what was.

Evangeline was taken aback at not-Iris’ statement, wondering how those dots in particular had decided to connect in her mind.  She blushed slightly, mumbling: “N-no...she’s...she’s your best friend.  You brought me here to introduce me to her.”  She shook her head slowly.

“More to the point…”  Eva looked into not-Iris’ eyes. Once again... it was so alien. So not Iris. The spark, the flame that sat beneath the lakes of purple was unusual. There wasn’t a hint of Iris left.

“Iris... are you there? Can you hear me? Come back to me...please…”, she pleaded, hoping desperately that it would work. She was afraid of what would happen... Iris had left because of Silke. Evangeline wasn’t enough. Just like she had always been... not enough. Insufficient. Irene kept her purple eyes nailed onto the viera infront of her. This situation was absurd. Quite intriguing, but absurd... ‘This woman is mad as a cuckoo clock’, she thought to herself, while following the other’s pleas, calling for someone named ‘Iris’. Oh, how she wanted to open this lady’s head, just to see what was going on inside it... And if this was Irene’s dream... would the red-head even mind a little poking around her brain? Such an intriguing case...

“Wait, wait, wait...”, Irene said finally, her voice calm, like a surface of a lake after a storm had ended. “...First of all... I dont know who this ‘Iris’ is... I also have no idea who the woman who just walked out was. I have never seen her before. What I think, girl, is that you are going through a mild case of psychosis... most likely triggered by your wife, finding us together. My name is Irene... And I have never been here before. Honestly? I still believe this is some mindless dream, but in case its not... I’m willing to help you out... If I can, that is.”

A weird smile played on Irene’s lips. A smile that did not reach the eyes. The eyes were cold, and lifeless, except the small foxfire looming behind the purple pools. She placed her hand, or Iris’ hand onto Evangeline’s shoulder. “I think we should go, before your loved one returns. Seeing her now, might just mess your little head even more than it already is.” Iris’ eyes didn’t change. She didn’t wake up... or gain control... like she had before. Usually Iris was desperate to fight to the surface. She had such a strong will. Which meant... which meant this time... she didn’t want to come back. Eva wasn’t enough. She was never enough. She was never what anyone wanted.

Her breath came fast and ragged, such that she was almost hyperventilating. Trying desperately to contain herself, she listened to the not-Iris speak. Offer to ‘help’ her. Flash her a lifeless, lightless smile. A not-Iris smile. Evangeline couldn’t help herself anymore, and burst into tears. Sobbing into her hands, she was able to squeak:

“Y-yeess... w-we should g-go…”

Nodding her head slowly, she gasped for breath, trying to see the other woman through the tears. Maybe this was the best way to do things... she couldn’t let the not-Iris get away from her. Maybe she could get her back to house Blacksoul, and seek help from its lord, or at least Arsene.

“I... I have a place... a p-place we can go…,” she whispered between whimpers. “J-just give me a moment t-to... com-compose myself…” Irene reached for her small incredient pouch, but it was not there... Thinking about it further, these were not even her clothes. The style was rather decent, so she could have very well picked them, but... it was not what she would usually wear. Quickly she went through the pockets of a jacket she had over the long black dress, but the only thing she could find was a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. No sign of her pouch.

She had hoped to give the weeping woman something to calm her nerves, but it was no use. ‘What happened to me anyway? Something does not sum up...’ The pale viera ended up to offer the pack of smokes towards Eva.

“These are yours? ...Wait a moment.” Irene lit a cigarette, drawing from it deep, and muttering words, her eyes closed. The words were barely audible, and did not sound like any language Evangeline understood.

Smoke was running over her lips with the words, and soon it gained a very faint glow. Irene leaned towards Eva, blowing the glowing smoke right into her mouth.

Evangeline was struggling to think straight. She didn't have much control over herself... her emotions were too much to contain right now. So intense were her feelings that she barely even noticed Irene take a drag of a cigarette and blow a lungfull of oddly colored smoke into her mouth. Her breath halted, and she immediately felt her lungs constrict, unfamiliar with the new sensation she was experiencing. Instinctively, though, she took a deep breath in, accepting the strange smoke into her body without realizing it.

Immediately, she felt a strange calm wash over her, as if her fears and worries had been constrained to a place just below the surface of her mind.  She could still feel them beating at her, trying to break down the door, but they were restrained for now. She shook her head, and wiped her eyes.

"Whaat... what was that? What did you just do...? And how did you do it? Iris didn't have... she didn't have any magic."

“I still dont know who this ‘Iris’ is, who you keep talking about, but I have few tricks up my sleeve”, Irene reminded. “Just try to stay calm. The effect is rather light, especially as I did not have my own incredients. But at least you are breathing again. Thats good.”

Irene picked up the mug of cocoa, and emptied it, before finishing the smoke. The cold, dead smile was still lingering on her lips, as she threw the pack of cigarettes to Eva, and walked past the woman, and towards the door, Silke had slammed shut only a moment earlier.

“Dont cry for your girl... She will come back to you, if its meant to be. Now shall we?” she nodded towards the door. “You have not told me your name yet.” Evangeline caught the cigarette pack. She felt falsely calm. It was such an alien feeling to her. That she should be so heartbroken and at the same time so controlled in the face of it was highly unusual. Her thoughts moved through her mind, tasting it and testing it as one would test a cut in one’s mouth, touching it with their tongue to see if it hurt. So enthralled was she with her sudden state of being that she almost forgot to answer the not-Iris’ question.

“Hello... my name is Evangeline. Evangeline Cross. Thank you... for whatever that was. As it seems that I have failed, and that we may be together for a time, perhaps I could do my best to furnish you with some information. Let’s... let’s walk and talk, shall we?”

Eva wandered towards the door, already starting to feel the despair creep back into her heart. She needed help... she needed Silke. She needed Silke to help her get Iris back. The viera was certainly gone for now, but perhaps Evangeline could return on another day. She would find a way to bring Iris back to her... she had to. She just hoped that it would be soon.

Eva opened the door, letting in a draft of dry, cold air. She motioned for the not-Iris to exit the building ahead of her, and stepped through the doorway behind her, shutting it behind her with a soft click.

With @lareine-kira​ & @evangeline-cross​ :3c

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #storytime #silke doomflare #iris ymir #evangeline cross #viera #rp

[artnerd1123]

BOOFSCON playlists

undercut are some song lists for the world/various characters! this thing updates with every change of the wind, so chances are there’s gonna be new music whenever y’all decide to check. hope y’all enjoy! and don’t judge the music too hard ‘^^

Birds Of Odd Feather, Strange Creatures Of Nether playlist (world vibes etc)

Say Amen [saturday night] (Panic! at the Disco)

Am I Wrong (Nico & Vinz)

Team (Lorde)

Nothing Lasts (Bedroom)

Dancefloor (3rd prototype, NCS release)

The Guardian of the Angels (NIVIRO)

Mortals (Warriyo, ft. Laura Brehm, NCS release)

The Curse Of The Fold (Shawn James)

Grandfather Clocktower (Klippa)

HUMANS (KLOUD)

Beep Beep I’m a Sheep (LilDeuceDeuce ft. TomSka & Blackgryph0n)

Angels (for vibes of both angels)

Now (AGST)

Demon Sibs (for vibes of both/their backstories)

I’m A Mess (Bebe Rexha)

Snake Soul (Pyre OST)

Always Gold (Radical Face)

Without Me (Halsey)

When The Party’s Over (Bille Ellish)

Narcissistic Cannibal (EarlyRise)

Mara

Toxic (Brittney Spears)

Might Not Like Me (Brynn Elliot)

What The Hell (Avril Lavinge)

Pound The Alarm (Niki Minaj)

Close To Me (Ellie Goulding, Diplo, Swae Lee)

Boom Boom Boom (Kira, ft. GUMI English & Ham)

Cannibal (Kesha)

Salt (Ava Max)

Villainous Thing (Shayfer James)

Right Now (The Living Tombstone)

Mean Girls [Deltarune Remix] (SharaX)

I’m Just Your Problem (Rock cover, posted by Elena Íviel Williams on youtube)

In My Head (Bedroom)

Without Me (Halsey)

i DO what i WANT (Kira, ft. Hatsune Miku)

Baby Boy (Mother Mother)

Get Out The Way (Mother Mother)

Thrash Pack (Pyre OST)

Berimont Marbles

L’envol (Caravan Place)

On & On (Cartoon)

Am I Wrong (Nico & Vinz)

Weakness (Prismo, NCS release)

Monster (Imagine Dragons)

Blaize

Ready To Fly (Didrick ft. Adam Young)

Whole (Chime & Adam Tell)

There’s Something Happening (Jack Stauber)

We Don’t Know (Dan Book, Dylan Stevens)

Mama (Jonas Blue)

Perfect 10 (Unknown Brain, Heather Sommer)

Wildfire (Jim Yosef & Sara Skinner)

Sky Dance (Pyre OST)

Clancy

Will Of The Scribes (Pyre OST)

I Can Feel It Too (Leimoti)

Pack Up The Louie (Caro Emerald, Caravan Place Remix)

Rewind (Didrick ft. Miramis, Monstercat release)

Call My Name (the Unlikely Candidates)

The Overpass (Panic! at the Disco)

King of the Clouds (Panic! at the disco)

Grave Digger (Blues Saraceno)

Sable

Bambous (Caravan Place)

She Likes Girls (Metro Station)

Hysterical [World Revolving Remix] (SharaX)

New Soul (Yael Naim,Tik Tok Remix)

Going Going Gone (Maddie Poppe)

Ghost (Mystery Skulls)

Start Again (Onerepublic)

Blood // Water (Grandson)

Beep Beep I’m a Sheep (LilDeuceDeuce ft. TomSka & Blackgryph0n)

Dawn

Angel Dust (AGST)

Stargazer (AGST)

Breathe (Johan Borjesson)

Tie me Down (Gryffin ft. Elley Duhé)

Chasing the Sun (The Wanted)

Toychest (Berimont x Clancy)

Iris (The Goo Goo Dolls)

Love Potion (Sable x Valencia)

In Your Arms (Kina Grannis)

365 (Zedd & Katy Perry)

#boof;scon #birds of odd feather; strange creatures of nether #boof;scon playlists #three down--

[ultimavolatusrpg]

ACCEPTED // BIRCH PEMBROOKE

44 years old, 69th Hunger Games, FC: John Krasinski

Optimistic, Funny, Oblivious, Restless, Compassionate

tw: death, amputation

THE ARENA

Pompeii. It was a few days before the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, an ancient volcano that has been mentioned in old books from times past. The tributes were raised into the middle of a clearing in a forest. A cornucopia did not lie in the middle of a circle of tributes this time, but lay beyond the forest and across a field on the outskirts of Pompeii. The tributes were lined up in a single line all of them facing their destination. It was about 2 kilometers away through rough forest and an open field. An announcer told the tributes this and the Games had begun.

The first day it was rather uneventful, not many tributes died except in the bloodbath and not all of them were in the city. At the end of the first day, the ground rumbled and a landslide was triggered outside of the city. Any tributes not in the city were either killed or driven to enter the city. The city had several buildings and roads and a tribute could hide or wander the streets as they wished.

At the beginning of the second day, another earthquake shook the buildings, causing a couple of them to collapse.  forcing some tributes out into the street. There were aqueducts, baths, and fountains that were filled with water, but if one were to drink it they would lose their mind temporarily and attack anyone around them. Mutt dogs also roamed the streets and would chase and attack any that stumbled towards them. The second day ended with another tremor, collapsing a few more buildings.

The third day broke and the tributes woke to ‘people’ celebrating a festival. The ‘people’ were celebrating the god of fire and sacrificing small beasts to the pyre in the middle of the town. Any tributes that attacked the ‘people’ had the crowd turn on them and rip them apart. When the bell tolled at noon, the 'people’ began to hunt tributes to sacrifice to the god of fire. Two sacrifices would make the townspeople stop hunting the tributes and retreat to their homes. At the end of the festival, a table with 7 backpacks sat on a table, signalling the feast. The third night fell with another strong tremor.

On the fourth day, an explosion was heard from the volcano that sat north of the city. Fiery rocks were ejected from the volcano and landed on the city. They rained down on the remaining tributes and they destroyed several parts of the city and tributes. A flow of lava entered the city, causing the tributes to climb to the highest building in the city. Then a cloud of ash, swept into the city and pushed some tributes into the lava. The final two were atop the temple and the ash swirled away to mark a battlefield with lava flowing around the bottom of the temple. This was the final showdown until the last tribute was left standing.

BIOGRAPHY

Birch’s childhood was like any who grew up in the poorer part of District 11. He had a wonderful family with three brothers and one sister. They lived in a small house at the end of a tree-lined street. Out of the back door he could see the fields and orchards sprawled to the left and a small creek with a grove of trees to the right. He could see the workers, trucks, horses, and dogs running around and was excited to join them. His arms were strong even as a young boy. He would help his family with chores including tending the chickens that they kept in the backyard and chopping wood for their kitchen stove.

Whenever Birch had the chance he would bound out of the back door and head for the small grove of trees that defied the rows of organized trees and fields of vegetables of most of District 11. He loved the shade and the feeling of being so small. He felt like the world couldn’t touch him among the branches of the birch and ash trees. He was insignificant and the world would leave him untouched. He reveled in the joy he felt in seeing life grow out of the dead logs and that a harsh winter could reveal small pink blossoms popping out of the grass. Birch understood the cyclical nature of life as a boy and as he grew it became his life’s tagline.

His family would have been okay if they only had two children, but with three extra mouths than what they could afford, the boys of the family all took tesserae when they turned 12. It meant that their family had a good life, even though they were stuck together in a small home.

Birch’s father was his hero. He toiled the soil out in the warm sunshine everyday and came home to see his family with hugs and love to go around. Terry loved his wife and family very much and encouraged his children to do what they loved even if they had to go to a tough job everyday. Birch wanted exactly what Terry had and to be that kind of person. He wanted to work in the orchards and with horses and use his body to feed his own family. He wanted to be happy in his own little world.

As a child, Birch saw the Hunger Games as a means to feed his family. His older brothers, Ansel, and Linden, had taken tesserae for years and he continued the tradition when he turned 12. He did not see glory in the games, but could care less that they happened. They did not affect him and he did not think he would ever get chosen from the pool. Even if Birch was chosen, his life would feed his family’s and that is all that mattered. Life would spring from his death, just as his little patch of trees showed him every year.

Birch was the middle child, stuck between two older brothers and his two younger siblings, his sister Iris and his brother Ember. To help out, just like his brothers, Birch left school around 13 and started to work in the orchards ferrying the loads of apples and pears to the store house during the day. He learned to ride fairly effectively and enjoyed talking to everyone as he rode his horse with a wagon filled with fruit through the trees.

Then Birch was in an accident. He lost his forearm. His world crashed down around him. Birch could not work in the orchards anymore. He had to spend a few months recovering in his home with few excursions into the sunshine. His family took care of him and had enough of a job that they were stable. The doctor who had seen him, kept checking in on him and gave him some options. He was a young doctor and said that he could build him a device to help him get some function out of his left arm. In the interim, Birch got stronger - maybe, just maybe that would get him his job back.

He was 17 at this point and had just gotten used to the prosthetic that his doctor had given him when the Reaping occurred. As always, Birch was nervous, but it would be over soon and he could let the tension recede from his body. But, his brother, Ember was reaped. At just 13, he would be at a huge disadvantage and Birch was the only one that could save him. He volunteered for his brother and headed off to the Capitol. He had no mentor, only an escort who was not very interested in him. He tried to make some allies and friends, but many did not want to interact with such a liability as him.

When he entered the Arena, Birch glanced for a second at the Cornucopia, but decided to head right into the forest and hopefully hang out for at least a day. He survived for most of the day, only seeing one other tribute - the District 12 boy. However, when the first tremor hit and triggered the landslide, Birch barely made it. He couldn’t believe it, but saw that the other tribute didn’t make it. The kid’s backpack had been taken with the landslide down to the outskirts of the town so Birch grabbed it, thanking him silently. There was a pack of nuts, a little bit of rope, and a small dagger in the bag.

The next day passed by in a blur, as he was attacked by a dog mutt - learning along the way that his prosthetic could be used as a shield - and killing the District 6 girl that had attacked him. The next morning, he skirted around the ‘people’ celebrating, hiding on the rooftops and fighting one other tribute he came across, managing to throw the tribute off the roof and killing him in the process. He was shaken at this point, but the day had only begun.

As the people mutts roamed around the streets looking for tributes, Birch stayed hidden on a rooftop. He was not attacked physically, but the stress of the past few days got to him and his demeanour cracked. The tributes he killed or lead to their deaths seemed to chase him as the mutts chased the screaming tributes around the town. Only when he saw the smoke rise from the pyre and the screams die down did he let himself out of his shell. It was a good time because he had to hop off of the building he was on to survive the tremor that tore down a couple more buildings.

He went into an uneasy sleep that night and awoke to something that sounded like a bomb. Several fiery rocks fell close to him and he bounded up to the rooftops to see where the rocks were falling. He continued to dodge and bounded from roof to roof, hearing rocks hit and cannons sound as tributes were killed. Lava flowed into the town and Birch’s mind couldn’t quite keep up with all of the things going on. There were a couple of times that his prosthetic almost slipped, but he managed to dodge and only get slightly burned by the rocks and get hit by some small stones.

He continued to climb to the highest point on the temple and reached the top to face the District 4 tribute, Coral. Birch dropped his backpack on the ground and pulled out the axe he had found at the feast and put the two daggers he had collected into his belt. There battle was long. By the end of it, Birch’s axe had fallen into the lava, but not before taking a chunk out of Coral’s leg. Coral had also embedded a dagger into his shoulder and a scratch along the side of his face. At this point, Coral was fatigued and Birch took the moment to pull off his prosthetic and throw it at her. She was so taken aback that Birch charged at her, pushing her backwards into the lava below. He had won, standing for a moment in triumph before collapsing due to exhaustion.

Birch had become the first Victor of 11 in years and years. He was thrust into the spotlight, but not before being fitted with the most state-of-the-art prosthetic the Capitol could make for him. A chip was implanted in his neck and technology was added to his amputated arm so that he had full use and mobility of his arm. Oblivious to the real reason that he received this ‘kindness’, Birch took it in stride, relishing the full movement in his arm that he hadn’t had in two years.

The hype around Birch kept him busy, but behind the smile and charm he put on for the crowds, was a growing loneliness. His family had decided to stay in Eleven, working on the orchard and transitioning into a house that Birch had offered to pay for when they told him they would rather stay. Birch didn’t blame them, but it still hurt when he packed up all of his belongings and had to say goodbye. He wouldn’t be able to visit them except for once a year for the Reaping.

But, his family was better off now and his price of freedom would feed his family and that was enough. So, Birch threw himself into being a Victor. He was young, handsome, and a compassionate guy. It made him very popular and was invited to many Capitolite functions. It was good to keep busy, especially because his only skills were physical, besides gardening.

A few years passed when Oakley Dressel won the 72nd Hunger Games. When she won, Birch made an effort to befriend her, not just because she was the first Victor from Eight in a long time, but because he understood what it was like to be faced with living a life with a disability. Granted, hers was much more debilitating, but Birch knew that a friendly face always helped.

He introduced himself with poorly-made brownies and the two of them became friends quickly. Birch was shocked at how easy it was to get along with Oakley, especially when it took him a little longer with some of the other Victors. They became very close as the years went by, spending a lot of time together, learning each other’s hobbies, and calling each other during the night.

It was when the Crownless Game happened that Birch faced his feelings head on. The Capitol felt unstable and dangerous. He didn’t want to regret not telling Oakley that he was very much in love with her and had been for over a year. Birch loved the moments he spent with her and wanted to tell her how he felt. The problem was that Birch didn’t think Oakley felt the same way and didn’t want to ever compromise the bond he had with her. He was scared that he would lose the person he felt connected to the most.

But, he swallowed that in the midst of the chaos after the 74th Games. One night, he just said it, hoping for the best, his heart getting ready to either break or grow. Luckily, his heart didn’t break and him and Oakley had been together ever since.

At 24, Birch got down on one knee and asked the woman of his dreams to marry him. The two lovebirds got married, to the joy of their own families and to the joy of the Capitol. They could tout the two of them as a testament to what could happen to their Victors. It wasn’t always smooth, but they had the blessing of the Capitol, who did a lot for the two of them considering their disabilities.

In the years since their marriage, Oakley had become pregnant and gave birth to three kids. Oliver, loving called Ollie was the oldest. They had a scare with Ollie when he was young and then the new parents found out that Ollie had epilepsy. Together Oakley and Birch figured out how to make sure Ollie was taken care of, but still knew that he could do anything. He was not his disability.

Paisley was their second oldest, inheriting her mother’s propensity for art, with Clementine following a few years later. Oakley’s pregnancy with Clementine was rough, not just because of her age, but because of her back. With that in mind, they decided on no more biological children, even though they wanted a bigger family. To remedy that, the pair decided to adopt from Eleven.

Birch went to his home, meeting his family for the night before heading to the orphanage to figure out who to take home with him. They had wanted to choose a little boy, but Birch’s heart was taken by a rambunctious little girl by the name of Summer. She had followed him around, telling little jokes, and pointing out why she would be the best person to take home. Summer hadn’t known who he was and just wanted to be brought into a loving family. Falling in love with her almost immediately, Birch took Summer home to the Capitol, bringing her into their little family.

It had been four years since Birch brought Summer home and it was nearing Oakley and Birch’s twentieth anniversary. In the years since he won, Birch had never brought a tribute home and it has always been a burden he was ill-equipped to bear. In his garden, he has a little section where he keeps their names and pictures alive, hidden away from prying eyes. It still takes its toll every year and he finds himself leaning on Oakley more during the Games.

With the ramping tensions with the Rebellion, Birch is finding himself torn between the two sides. He knows which one is right, but he has no desire in the slightest to put his family in harm’s way. And there is so much that the Capitol has provided him with over the years. He couldn’t be expected to turn on that without consequences. If he could find a way to ensure his identity from being revealed, Birch would join in the Rebellion. He wants to be in it. But, he couldn’t put Ollie, Paisley, Clem, Summer, and most of all Oakley in a position of vulnerability. Even if it was the right thing to do. Right?

PENNED BY: CASSIE

#accepted #character bio #birch

[waywardrose13]

The Hunter Diaries- Chapter Nine

Series Masterlist

Rose’s Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: Angst, language, implications of sex, brief makeout

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester had been your best friends for as long as you could remember. Being Bobby Singer’s adoptive daughter, it was sort of inevitable to know the brothers. You knew you’ve had a crush on the elder brother for a long time, but you always thought nothing would happen between the two of you. You’re not the picture perfect model and you aren’t the image every girl strives to be. But maybe, just maybe, you were wrong, and he would like you too. But could your happy ending be cut short?

SERIES TAGS, CHARACTER TAGS, FOREVER TAGS, FLUFF BINGO/ANGST BINGO TAGS ARE OPEN. SEND ME AN ASK!

*PLEASE EXCUSE ANY AND ALL GRAMMAR MISTAKES*

Your fingers trace small circles on Dean’s chest, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder as his hand ran up and down your bare back.

The two of you had been in that position for a while. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was calming, reminding you that the both of you were alive and in that small moment, everything was truly alright. You wished you could freeze that moment. You wished the two of you could stay in that small fraction of time for eternity. Not having to worry about Aamon or angels or the threat of the apocalypse. Just the two of you, laying with each other with nothing but a blanket between you, basking in each other.

But you knew that it couldn't be a reality. Those threats were still out there, looming over your head like a dark storm cloud. Even with all the distracting Dean had just done, you still had to face it when you came back to reality.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked. Your eyes flitted up to his, a soft smile on your face.

“You.” He made a light sound, his fingers running up to thread through your hair. You kissed his bare chest and snuggled closer to him, the small blanket not quite fitting around the both of you, and you shivered at the cool air.

“You know, I never thought you liked me back,” He said. You scoffed and rolled onto your stomach, your arm coming up to rest on his chest and play with the amulet around his neck.

“I never thought you liked me back,” You said. “You were always with these… Picture perfect, model material girls. I never thought you’d want to go for someone like me. Someone not… Like that.”

“That’s idiotic, sweetheart.” He scowled. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

You blushed and ducked your head down, burrowing into his chest. “I love you too.”

He sighed, his arms wrapping tightly around you and pulling you closer to him. You moved your head to press your face into the side of his neck, your lips pressing soft kisses on the tender skin. Your hand moved to trail down his chest, your fingers stopping right above his pelvic bone, tracing patterns along the soft skin.

He chuckled and rolled the two of you over, his hips pressing down onto you and you moaned at the feel of him. “You want a round two?”

“If you think you can handle it,” You said, a smirk playing on your lips. He growled playfully and bent down to nip at your ear.

“Oh, I can handle it, sweetheart,” He whispered into your ear. He thrusted his hips forward, his hard member bumping your bundle of nerves, sending a small jolt of electricity through you. “It’s you that I’m worried about.”

The next day rolled around and you were left alone. You knew the boys were doing it for your own good, but you had gotten bored easily and quite frankly, you were annoyed at them for locking you down here.

You huffed and fell back down on the bed, letting out a long breath. You were currently alone in the house, Sam and Dean having gone on a quick salt and burn a few towns over and Bobby tagging along just for the fun of being out in the field again. They weren’t really worried about you since you were inside the panic room, which was supposedly the safest part of the whole house. But it was quiet and eerie, a strange feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

A loud crash from upstairs made you jump. You leaped off the bed and stayed as still as possible, tilting your head a bit and listening as closely as possible.

Your stomach rolled as butterflies fluttered around inside. Your breathing began to pick up as a few more creaks sounded above you as if someone was walking.

And then you heard it.

Someone was whistling above you, a broken tune falling past their lips as they moved around upstairs. You swallowed thickly and folded your arms around your middle, your body trembling with fear. There was someone- or something- upstairs, and it wasn’t any of the boys.

A thick feeling of dread filled your chest as the possibility of who could be up there ran through your mind. You were alone, the perfect time to show up if he was going to.

As long as you stayed in that room, you’d be fine.

At least you thought so.

You heard the loud steps of someone walking down the stairs, a light echo bouncing of the walls. You backed up and moved around the bed in the center of the room, grabbing the knife Dean had left for you off the metal desk. A loud knock sounded from the door and you took a settling breath, moving your stance into a defensive one.

“Y/N,” He said in a sing-song voice. “I know you’re in there, love.” He knocked again, a little harder and louder and suddenly the peephole was swiped open, his orange glowing eyes staring into the room, his lips curling into a demonic smile. “Hello, beautiful.”

“It’s warded,” You said. “You can’t come in here.”

“Maybe not,” He said. He closed the peephole and it was silent on the other side. You furrowed your brows and listened closely, but nothing happened.

The door burst open suddenly, the metal flying off the hinges and knocking against the bed, falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

“But I can try.” He grinned. He stepped as close as he could to the threshold, his eyes scanning the room, his head nodding approvingly. “It’s very well put together, I’ve got to admit. The detail is spectacular.”

“Why do you want me?” You asked. “Why do you want me dead?” His eyes moved back to linger on you, the orange fading, leaving his crystal blue orbs. You shifted uncomfortably under his hard gaze and he smiled at you.

“It’s not that simple, love,” He said. “I don’t have to justify my reasons to you quite yet.” You took a deep breath and narrowed your eyes at him.

“What are you?”

“Now, that love, is what everyone is trying to figure out these days. I’m truly impressed you and those knuckleheads could figure it out,” He said. “All in good time, love. You’ll find out eventually.”

“Why are you even here?” You sneered. He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.

“How certain are you that this room can keep me out?” He asked. You swallowed thickly, not answering him, not really knowing yourself. He smirked dangerously, clasping his hands behind his back before moving his foot slowly. Carefully, he stepped over the threshold, a wince flashing across his face.

He stepped inside the room, your eyes wide with fear, your breathing picking up rapidly. His face was distorted in discomfort. He may have been able to come inside, but he certainly wasn’t comfortable or at full strength. The demon part of him reacted negatively to the sigils and wardings around the room, his other half allowing him to at least step inside.

He looked up and turned around, eyeing the room with an impressed glint in his eye, his glossy black hair rippling like waves down his back as he moved. You backed up a few steps and kept the knife out, knowing it wouldn’t do any good against the hybrid in front of you.

“Very impressive,” Aamon murmured. He took a deep breath, a shoot of pain flashing through his body. “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“Do what?”

“You either come with me willingly and I let your friends live. Or, you fight and lose. I still take you with me but they die a brutal, slow death,” He said, moving around the edge of the room. You moved back, keeping the wall to your backside and him always in front of you. “There’s an easy choice here, Y/N. I know which one you’ll make. But, I have to be honest with you, I hope you pick the more fun way.”

“I’m going to kill you,” You snarled. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

“No, love. I’m going to kill you. It’s just a matter of if it will be sooner rather than later. Now,-” His tone dropped and his eyes narrowed into slits, the iris’ burning orange flames within them- “What’s it gonna be?”

You looked down at the knife in your hand. You knew it was powerless against him. You couldn’t take him on your own, even if he was weakened. And you sure as hell wouldn’t let him kill your family.

You looked up at him again, tears brimming your eyes as you realized what was going to happen. Who you’d be leaving behind.

“You promise you’ll leave them alone?” You whispered. Aamon smirked at you, his head moving to give you a slow nod.

“I swear on my life.” You sniffed and set the knife down on the table, your heart breaking a bit more with each passing moment.

“Can I at least say goodbye?”

He thought for a moment and hesitated, his lips curling into a snarl. “Any funny business, they drop dead.”

“I understand.”

Three hours later, you were sitting on the couch in the sitting room, your leg bouncing furiously as the clear instructions Aamon gave you rang in your head.

You were to say your goodbyes and walk outside where he’d grab you, taking you to god knows where, but leaving the men alone. You took a deep breath, trying to take comfort in that.

He’d leave them alone.

Before Dean, you were in a dark place. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t contemplate suicide, even more so after Dean had died. Carter was your rock, and when you had to burn her on that pyre, your world shattered, the one person you could count on the most turned to a pile of ash.

But then Dean swooped down and saved you from the pit you had fallen into. He had saved you from the crawling vines of your mind. He loved and worshiped you, turning your dark world brighter, bringing hope back to you.

But everything you loved would soon be ripped away again. Dean, Bobby, Sam. You knew after today you’d most likely never see them again. You’d probably be dead by the next morning. And your heart hurt like never before at the thought of leaving Dean. The pain inside your chest was crippling as you thought of your goodbye.

You jumped when the door opened, the three men walking in together. You got up from the couch and tried to regain your composure, putting a large smile on your face.

“Hey, boys!” You greeted them.

“Birdy, what the hell are you doing out of the panic room?” Bobby asked, your heart nearly shattering when you heard your nickname. Their faces were plastered with panic, making this ten times harder.

“Um… I wanted to see you guys,” You said.

“That’s not really an excuse,” Dean said.

“I know.” You nodded. “But, I just wanted to be with you for a little bit.”

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” Sam asked, his face etched with worry. You gave him a smile and a nod.

“Yeah.”

Bobby shrugged and moved into the kitchen, Dean giving you a strange look but following him.

“Hey, Sam?” You said. The youngest Winchester looked up at you and raised a brow.

“Yeah?”

“Um…” You took a few steps forward. “I want you to promise me something.”

“Okay,” He said.

“Take care of Dean. Make sure he takes care of himself. I need you to make sure… I need you to make sure he’s happy. That he’s taken care of and that he doesn’t drink himself to death.”

“Um, okay. You’re scaring me, Y/N/N.”

“Just… Promise me.” You looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Yeah. Okay, I promise.” You nodded and moved into the kitchen, venturing forth to say goodbye to your dad.

“Hey, dad?” You said walking up to him. “Can we talk real quick?” Bobby gave Dean a look but followed you into the next room, the brothers talking in hushed whispers. You took a deep breath and gave your dad a small smile before engulfing him in a hug.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He asked. You pulled back, your eyes teary.

“I just… Wanna say thank you,” You said. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, birdy but I’m not sure what is going on.”

“I know, but I’m okay, I want you to know that.” You gave him a nod and moved back into the kitchen, your stomach churning at what you were about to do. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach more violently with each step.

Sam had moved past you to talk to Bobby and you grabbed Dean’s arm, bringing him out of eye and earshot, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his harshly.

His hands gripped your waist as you melted against him, your lips moving in sync as his tongue caressed your own. Your own hands had moved to the sides of his neck, your fingers running through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“What was that for?” Dean asked when he pulled away breathlessly. You bit your lip. Trying your hardest to keep the tears at bay, failing miserably. His brows furrowed in concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I… I want you to know that I love you, okay?” You said, tears streaming down your face as your heart broke more with each passing moment. “You’ve been the best thing that has ever happened to me. You saved me from myself, whether you know it or not and there are not enough thanks in the world for that. I need you to promise me, you’ll try to be happy. To fight, okay? Always keep fighting, no matter what, and remember that I love you.”

“You’re scaring me,” He whispered, fear written across his face. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss him once more. It was similar to the kiss he had given you when he had said goodbye, one full of love and passion. It said all that needed to be said, and Dean realized that.

You pulled away and quickly made your way to the door, Dean calling your name fiercely when he realized what you were doing. The minute you were down the steps of the porch, Aamon appeared, placing a hand on your shoulder. You dared to look up at Dean, his face full of horror and shock, hurt and betrayal. Your knees were weak as you stood, watching the man you love look at you with such agony in his eyes. The pain in your chest grew and it became unbearable, your breaths coming in gasps as the tears continued to fall.

“You promised me,” He said softly. “You promised me that you’d fight!”

“He was going to kill you,” You choked. “All of you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I gave her a choice, boys,” Aamon said, his hand tightening on your shoulder until his nails dug painfully into your flesh. You let out a grunt and bit your lip as he continued to dig his nails in deeper. “And unfortunately, she chose the boring way. But we made a deal, and you will be unharmed. So, good luck with the apocalypse boys, but we’re gone.”

“No!” Dean barked, rushing forward.

You whispered an “I’m sorry,” and by the time Dean reached you, you were gone. Aamon had you, leaving Dean with a crumpled soul and a dozen different emotions, all in the angry and devastated range. He let out a loud growl and kicked a car piece to his left.

He’d find you, if it was the last thing he did. He swore to protect you, and he’d be damned if he let Aamon win. Because he loved you, dammit, and he was going to gut the son of a bitch that had you, who killed nearly every one you loved. He made you a promise, and he was sure as hell going to keep it.

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[fluxanddragons]

The Life and times of Me, Solomyr. Chapter 1.

*If you do read this please give comments.*

I hate humans. They’re only mildly intelligent, mildly violent, and extremely illogical. I mean one time I had a ring of illusion allowing the wearer to control a single mind for any purpose. I of course stole this ring and was going to get rid of the enchantment. The former owner didn’t like this so came after me and this human guard I had. As I was preparing a ward to prevent us being tracked I gave the ring to my guard and told him to keep it hidden for as long as possible. The idiot threw it in a nearby lake. I mean why? Why would you do that? Well this meant I had to camp out by the lake for days waiting for the warlock the ring belonged to give up before searching for the ring myself so as to destroy the enchantment. It’s not as if the guard didn’t know I needed to get rid of the enchantment first, he had been employed by me for I don’t know two months, I think, humans live such short lives, it’s pathetic. I mean at least orcs are consistently stupid and brutish. Alas this is not the story I wanted to tell this story is about me a humble High Elf Mage Pure-Blooded for millennia, Lord Soloymr of Velotil.

 Velotil was a prosperous Valley full of mages and sorcerers use their knowledge to improve everyone’s lives. Except the common farmers and such filth. Their puny lives are adorable labouring day in and day out. We mostly get humans and half-human abominations to work the farms, though treacherous criminals like murderers, arsonists, drunkards, and traitors are sent there to pay their dues. For a life time, the insolent idiots. Ah but High Elf Society is full of the purest and noblest that Velotil could offer. Now I would describe the rolling hill that surround my valley from the azure green fields and the beautiful flower gardens that spell out Velotil, in Elven Runes, of course. I would also the sapphire blue rivers that travels from the magical source at the heart of Velotil’s Rodon District where the best of Velotil’s best live, including myself, of course. The river runs through the Valun courts and the Macyd streets. Velotil is a raised town to help us keep away from the rabble of the common folk. As such the sorcerers near where I live created a light bridge so we could see the beautiful river at all times. From the Macyd streets the river flows south in to the farmlands, a few miles away. The stone walls around all of Velotil aren’t much just to protect crops, livestock and farmers. The Greater Walls, however are enchanted so as to burn any non-elf attackers. I would have had it target hostiles automatically ridding us of the need of look-outs, but the council said the idea was a waste of time. Still at least The Greater Walls aren’t just cobblestone. They are encrusted with jewels and gold to reflect the wealth of my society. Of course, none of the wonders of Velotil matter since only days after my last heroic exploit killing diseased humans to prevent a hideous epidemic. My city was attacked, By a group of annoying humans with sunken eyes and amber eyes. They actually looked similar to the humans I killed earlier. They tore through the farmland slaughtering the commoners who make my food. I was going to starve now. The creatures were still heading towards me. They looked ashen. I could hear criers shouting at everyone to get within the walls. The guards were closing the portcullis. The monsters were slowing down. When they arrived, I could see them just standing there, motionless. They just stared, unblinkingly through everyone, silence fell. The chaos below seemed distant. These, things, with their dusty grey eyes with sunken sockets. They had pale skin as if their heart was beating at a fraction of the pace. The lips were cracked. Some had holes and dried blood under their bottom lip. Whilst stood eerily still, I could see that a few of them were searching the guards and the braver citizens, myself included, of course, that were stood at the gate. One of them set their eyes on me and starting humming. The sound started quiet. The buzz grew as more creatures found me in the crowd. As the sound grew, some of my people looked at me, thinly veiled suspicion in their eyes. The cheek, I, the most respected adventurer in all of Aposity, being looked at as if I was to blame for the hideous monstrosities outside these walls. Well I’ll need to fix that. I marched forward. One of the soldiers saw me and stood in my way.

“Stand back citizen.”

“I beg your pardon”, I reply, startled that this guard thought he could refer to me as part of the common rabble, “I am Lord Solomyr of Velotil, Son of Luthais and Naesala Luven, and Ambassador of the Court, and I demand you let me through.”

“Look… Um… sir… I…”

“Silence!”

Ha! He’s terrified. I thought. That put him back in his place.

The hum died down as I approached the gate. I scanned the crowd of creatures. I swear I’ve seen them before but ah well. I turn back to my citizens.

“Do not be afraid. I shall keep you safe. I am down here protecting the people of Velotil while the apparent court has to meticulously plan a solution. The cowards. If you all return to your homes, I shall destroy the blight these monsters bring. You have my word, As your saviour. Fi hofr jupar” My speech was glorious and awe-inspiring. My civilians left to go home finally devoid of fear. The calm charm I uttered at the end at least made certain of it. Now head closer to the gate and get a good look at my foe. There grey eyes had a red rim on the outside of their iris. Some of them had deep wounds but weren’t bleeding, one of them had a dagger in his shoulder still. There various garments ripped and blood stained, reeked of blood and urine. I moved my eyes back up to their faces. They looked even worse up close. Pale skin coupled with bloody wounds under all of their lips, as if they had a new set of teeth they weren’t used to.

I decide to introduce myself.

“I am Sol…”

“We know who you are?” They said in unison, voices raspy.

“Well then you will…”

“We want vengeance.”

“Excuse me.” I was getting mad now “I was talking! Now if you want to live…”

They bellowed in laughter, interrupting me yet again.

“What now?”

One of the things shambled forward, he had carving fork jammed in his knee.

“You don’t recognise us, do you?”

“Should I?”

“We shouldn’t be surprised, you couldn’t see past your own successes and glories. How would you recognise the ones needed to die for that to happen?”

“I earn my glory. I never need help and I revel in competition. No one is as great as I am.”

“Then look at us. Who do you see?”

“A bunch of monsters who will be incinerated.”

“No. Look at us. Look at me.”

It was then I realised where I had seen some of these people. Some of them were the farmers from the valley and the others were…

“By the gods… I’ve killed you. The other day… the diseased humans… I killed the lot of you.” I was shocked these things wanted revenge from me, since I tried to kill them.

“Well sucks to be you then” I shout standing tall. “You can’t get in. We’re safe.”

“You right about one thing.” The Infected mused, in unison “We can’t get in. But none of the people can get out. How long before food starts running low? Do you really think people will starve to keep you alive? We only want you. Come out and we will take you away. That is the honourable thing to do. It is what a Hero would do,” coaxed the voices.

“No.” I scream defiantly. “I am The Hero my people want, no need. They need my protection.”

“Your ignorance is amusing. But it’s time to realise these aren’t your people. You are not a true hero. Your title was inherited not earned.”

“You know nothing of my plights.” I turn to the guards nearby. “Open the gates. The Infected will die tonight.”

The guard hesitated. “But they can come in if we open the gate.”

“Shut up. I command you to open that gate.”

“No Sir. I am not jeopardising this town to inflate your ego. The council will decide. And Lord Solomyr I am…”

“pyr fir ee” The Guard was silenced by my fireball. “You going to arrest me or Are you going to open that gate.”

Another guard almost tripped over himself rushing to open the gate.

“Now. I don’t care who or what you are. You come here, insult me and my people. You shall pay with blood.”

“Come peacefully and no one else dies”

“pyr fir ee” Another fire ball gets hurtled towards The Infected. It sets fire to a about four of them. They all then charge in. One goes over to the guard and mutters an incantation

“Vame pyre thall” and the guard stands up.

The Infected shambled forward and screeched which could be heard all over town.

“We gave you a choice Solomyr. You chose to doom a city than pay for your crime.” He then hit me across the head.

#fantasy #fiction #story #Solomyr #first story #no idea what to tag this

[fasengeta]

The familiar clatter of shopping carts breaking free from their corral made her flinch inwardly and clutch her bag closer to herself as she walked through the sliding glass doors of her own personal purgatory. The day had yet to begin and with that old bone tired ache drumming a steady beat against her ribcage while financial necessity loped and braided itself around her neck like a hangman’s noose, she knew deep in her soul that today was not going to be a good day. She wanted to go home. Heck, she regretted getting out of bed this morning. Still... it was better for her future to be employed in a job she disliked than to try to get by on what little the state would willingly provide an unemployed student. That being said, the day she finally walked out the front door for that final time, she'd be resisting the urge to moon dance all the way to the parking lot. It would be a long time until that was possible but the distant dream still made a path for the tiny ghost of a genuine smile to cross her lips. Pausing a moment to take a small glance around to judge if today would be busy or not, she was glad to note that it didn’t look like the lines to check-out were overcrowded. The customer service area looked packed, but it was rare to see less than twelve people waiting in line at any given time before 9:00. She started walking once more and smelled a whiff of the faint earthiness from the brightly colored cactus plants that were sold by the anti theft detention system near the greeter’s station. The familiar face of an employee who’s name she couldn’t quite recall… (Greg? Grant?) waved airily at her with all the artificial cheer of a painted clown doll. She waved back, still trying to place his name (the distance between them made it impossible to make out what was displayed on his name tag), the practiced motion having been thoroughly ingrained into her over countless wasted hours devoted to workplace integration videos. The moment of timed obeisance to their company ended and Gabe or Gary(she was fairly certain that it began with a ‘G’) quickly set himself to welcoming the next few people to enter through the doors as she continued on, still idly wondering who it was that manned the door. It probably didn’t matter if his name was Gino or Griff. She wasn’t especially outgoing and the thought of interacting with others made the nervous little butterflies that lived forever in her gut flitter and furl their figurative wings as if pursued by a particularly rambunctious kitten. She had hoped that the time she’d spent completing her training and interacting with others on the job would make that interaction easier but sadly that hadn’t proven the case. Worse still, it had seemed like the gulf between herself and other people had seemed to only widen and she often felt more alone than she had before she’d been hired. A shucked ear of corn slid out of a customer’s overflowing vegtible bag and rolled across her path, causing her to sigh as she bent over to pick it up, and return it to the man. “Thanks.” He’d said, not even bothering to look at her before he’d placed it back with the others in the crate. She frowned and had started to make her way towards the abandoned corn when she’d caught sight of the produce department worker waving her off, pointing to himself then the corn, his unspoken “I got this” was clear as day on his face.  She nodded to indicate her understanding, before she caught sight of the vaguely unnerving gaze of an abandoned plush toy surrounded by a a well-stacked fortress of freshly made marketplace salsa and stone-fired naan chips. One thing that she had become used to seeing while working retail was the various oddities that the customers tended to leave in the most improbable places. At least this time, she thought as she picked up the toy to drop off at the lost and found at customer service, the item left wasn't living. She would never forget how guilty she had felt when she'd discovered one of the store's Betas with the seasonal Valentine's day supplies. The fact that someone had callously abandoned a helpless creature that had never harmed anyone to die among mass produced greeting cards and overpriced chocolates pressed in the form of hearts probably said something mildly phylisophical about people in general but whatever one might have decided called it, she'd taken it as a sign that the fish needed an extra pair of eyes to look after them. The pets area wasn't exactly her section, but checking in on the little guys to make sure they were all present and accounted for was never any trouble. It relieved her to know that they were ok. What would happen to them after she'd finally graduated and left her current job was something she didn't really like to think about so she did her best to put it out of her mind. Shaking the depressing thought from her head as she crossed the double doors that led to the back. Compared to the relative calmness on the sales floor, the receiving area was a flurry of activity as usual, the employees moving crates and pallettes in place as they unloaded the supplies from the food trucks. Without giving much concious thought to the action, her eyes sought out a familiar mop of brown hair. Finding no sight of Amedeus, she purposefully marched up to the card reader next to the computers and swiped her ID. The name 'Marceline' quickly scrolled across the screen and she tapped the 'CLOCK IN' option with more force than what was probably necessary. The system was often finiky and it wouldn't be the first time that it had failed to read a prompt correctly. She’d already sat through the embarrassment of  contacting a salaried manager to help her record the correct hours(she’d tried to take a lunch break and the system had cheerfully alerted her that she couldn’t take a break when she hadn’t yet arrived) and she wasn’t at all eager for an encore performance. The screen informed her that her presence had been noted and she stalked over towards the employees lounge to stow away her perishables in the fridge before beginning her shift. The familiar scent of roasted coffee struck her the minute she entered the room and her face contorted into a sour frown. She hated the sludge her store referred to as coffee but as if eager to worsen her already foul mood, her lack of energy had chosen that moment to smack her in the face and remind her that in order to operate within the required specs of her job, she was going to have to grind up her taste-buds, boil them on the sacrificial pyre of poorly processed coffee seeds, and serve it on a platter of self-castigation. She wasn't particularly picky when it came to coffee, and she could detect  northing in that smell that would indicate that there would be any difference between the brews made in the office and the ones sold in a coffee shop. But,she thought darkly as she picked up one of the small Styrofoam cups, once a person made the mistake of ingesting it, the similarities stopped there. She brought it to her lips and winced, her body seizing up as it tried to process what it was consuming. Marceline had never eaten tobacco products, nor had she ever chosen to smoke, so her thoughts on the matter would be considered anecdotal at best, but that cloyingly bitter smell that wafted out of cheap cigarette butt was the closest analogy she had at her disposal that came to truly describing the abject awfulness that was her store’s coffee. Sadly, while she could openly declare the taste of it to be literally sickening, it didn’t stop her from taking a cup or three when she needed the caffeine. Beggars couldn’t be choosers and free was still free. When the situation called for it, like today, she just had to grin and bear it. The store expected the employees to shroud themselves with a mask of false happiness while working. It made sense that they’d expect the same from them when it came to their coffee too. She tossed the cup in the trash, then rolled her eyes in minor annoyance as the object hit the side of the bin and bounced off, landing a good couple of centimeters away from the intended destination. Secretly glad that no one except the security guard who monitored the cameras could have seen that slightly ego-bruising miss, she pitched it directly in it’s place where it thankfully remained(she might not have considered herself an overly prideful girl, but she did set some standards for herself and tossing cups into cans less than three feet away was one of the more unspoken ones). Having accomplished this, she removed the tarragon chicken salad wraps she’d made for herself and Amadeus for Lunch. Truthfully speaking, it wasn’t exactly a meal worth bragging about, but she‘d been wanting to try the recipe  out since she’d found it in the middle of looking for another meal idea. Inspiration had waited until last night, when her brain knew she would have an exam in the morning to strike and had refused to leave her alone until the wraps were finished. On the plus side, she’d been able to sleep after that. On the other, well... it had been 4 am and after a week of poor sleeping habits, it was difficult to tell the pink of her Iris from the tiny red veins that zigzagged across her sclera. She had liked the results well enough when she’d eaten some of what had remained after she’d made their wraps for breakfast, and with any luck Amadeus would enjoy them too. She hoped he would anyway. With the luck she’d been having lately he might have an allergic reaction to it and she’d be forever apologizing to the kindest person she knew for accidentally poisoning him in her ignorance. Having safely deposited the food she’d kept in her bag in the fridge, marked with a name and a date on the side to inform the maintenance workers who were tasked with cleaning the fridge not to touch it(and supposedly deter thieves), she made her way to the locker room to put her bag inside her little padlocked hidey-hole. It was, like her lockers in both high school, and middle school before it, ordered chaos in physical form. The only thing that differentiated the three was the three was the complexity of the course material they contained but not much else. She still had little doodles on the side of some notes and a series of body parts she’d spent time practicing on another, even a little comic she’d created featuring a tiny stick figure that was carrying a box labeled microeconomics coursework. The box gradually increased in size as the panels went on, weighing down her sweaty and exhausted little character as it tried it’s best to carry it’s progressively cumbersome burden. This continued until it reached the final panel, where all that could be seen of her mini dramatis persona was it’s legs and arms, pinned in place by the massive box it had collapsed beneath after it had gotten too big for her abused person to bear.

#ideas