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sharinluna · 4 years

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Lucien Unspoken Words Date Translation with Commentary

I decided that the title of this date is “Unspoken words date” but it’s more like “words that you want to say but cannot say” Date.

This date happens between chapter 21 and 22. I strongly recommend reading this date before the new chapters are updated because I think the content of this date is semi main story. Also, this date has references to chapter 13 and chapter 16.

This time, I implemented commentaries in-between dates. Tell me if you like them or hate them.

I used Yōurán as MC’s name.

______________________________

In a dark laboratory, the computer monitor flashed a blue screen and the file folder named “memory” was empty. The dream recording device was broken and all data have disappeared without a trace.

A gleam of light flashed in Lucien’s dark eyes. He rebooted the device and quickly typed some words. A map of the city popped out. A red dot appeared in the old address of closed Ultima Bioresearch Institute.

Lucien: Found it.

(In chapter 16 we learn that if people leave Lucien’s dream world, they lose all memory of what happened in that dream. That’s why Yōurán forgot the latter parts of chapter 16. But Lucien has a device to record the lost memories so he could later retrieve them. At this stage I think Lucien figured out that he had memories with Yōurán in a different universe(chapter 1-18 world) and tried to use this device to see them. But any clues that could lead to memories of Yōurán are cut off. Like in chapter 20 when Yōurán found out that the pictures she took with Kiki vanished from her phone.)

____________________________________

I stood at the front of the deserted Institute building and bit my lips.

I couldn’t believe that I had managed to escape from Ares’s grasp the last time I came here, but my sore body reminded me of what I did.

Lucien: Queen, by itself, is the height of natural evolution. If humans are the product of nature’s creation, Queen is a creation that ‘cannot exist.’

Lucien’s words from that day kept coming back to me, and how his eyes looked so deep and cold as he said that.

So I decided to take a risk. I intentionally leaked the information on the internet that a confidential file concerning people with special genes was discovered in the old buildings of Ultima Bioresearch.

Now, I was at the door of the research building. I took a deep breath.

Yōurán: He has to come, right? He knows what I am…

As I said to myself I opened the door, but before I could step in someone pulled me inside with an ice-like grip. The door slammed shut.

It was too dark to see who had dragged me in. But from the way they grabbed my wrists so tight I could tell they were not friendly. I instinctively tried to kick and fight my way out.

??: Hold still.

Yōurán: …Lucien? Is that you?

I didn’t know if I felt afraid, or something else when I heard his voice. Lucien soon let go of my wrists.

He was wearing black and standing in the darkness. Like the last time I met him here, I could feel coldness that made me hesitant to reach him.

Lucien: You…

Yōurán: I suppose you want to know why I came here, right?

Lucien smiled at my interruption, as if he was amused that I had seen him through.

Lucien: I will gladly hear your explanation.

Yōurán: I…

came here because I missed you.

Reason kept me from saying what I really wanted to say.

Yōurán: I want to know why you’re here.

Lucien smiled coldly.

Lucien: Maybe letting you go free last time was a mistake.

As he said that, he slowly went closer to me.

Yōurán: I’m the one who leaked that information in the internet. Your coming here was my doing!

Lucien: That was you? Why would you do that?

Yōurán: Because I want to know what it means to be Queen in this world.

I looked at Lucien pointedly. His eyes seemed to hold mockery and contempt. Did he think that I was being ridiculous? I knew that I should get used to him looking at me like that, but it still hurt so much…

I stepped closer to him and met his gaze squarely.

Yōurán: I want to find out the truth, no matter how many hardships I have to go through.

This is not the first time I said this to you, Lucien. Don’t you remember?

(She’s talking about chapter 13)

Lucien: Do you think you can face the truth, even when it will hurt you mortally

His words brought back memories from a long time ago.

Lucien: And what if the truth shakes your entire being and tears you apart? Will you still choose the truth?

Yōurán: To face the truth, one must also face pain and suffering. I will not run away from them. Someone very important to me taught me that. And he told me he would accompany me along the way.

(In chapter 13, Lucien gave her two choices. To live a safe, tranquil life being protected and not knowing the truth, or to seek out the truth no matter how cruel it would be. Yōurán chose the truth and he said he would accompany her until the end - the reveal of him being Ares.)

I looked at Lucien as I said that. I wanted to know how he would react but also, was afraid of what he would say.

Something flashed in his eyes, but soon his gaze returned to the usual coldness.

Lucien: Only a fool would believe those words. He was deceiving himself and you by saying that.

I felt like something snapped in two in my heart.

Yōurán: You’re wrong. At least… at the time he said that, he wanted to be with me.

Lucien: Do you believe that?

Yōurán: I’ve had doubts, but I still believe him.

Lucien silently looked at me like he was amazed. After a short silence he laughed quietly.

Lucien: You are more impressive than I thought. It seems that I have underestimated you, Queen.

From the window I could see snow falling in the sunset. The wind from outside became colder and I shivered. Lucien didn’t miss my tiny movement and he wordlessly went to the window to block out the chill wind.

Lucien: I don’t want my enemy to fall down because she catches a cold. We are still contemplating the idea of cooperating with you.

Yōurán: Don’t worry. I will not fall down.

I glanced sideways at the wall. It seemed as if some sixth sense was telling me to look there. The wall was filled with grime and dust showing how old this building was.

Something was not right…

Lucien: This is from the Corinthians. It means that the truth is projected into the hearts of men through a glass lens. It’s distorted, blurry, and one-dimensional.

I suddenly felt dizzy. What happened to the words written on the wall? How could they disappear without a trace?

Yōurán: There used to be some writing on this wall here, remember? We saw it together the last time we came here!

A little bit excited, I tugged at Lucien’s sleeves. He didn’t push me away, but he didn’t answer me either. His emotionless eyes told me that he had no idea what I was talking about.

Yōurán: I… I mean…

I immediately pulled my hand away from him.

Lucien: What was it then? You said that there used to be some writing here. What was it?

Yōurán: “Through a glass darkly.”

I whispered the words. My head started to hurt. Lucien stared hard at the empty wall and then frowned.

Lucien: It’s a bible verse, nothing special. Except…

Yōurán: Did you remember something?

Lucien: If that verse really used to be here, who wrote that on this wall? Or what I really want to know is…

Lucien hesitated and his eyes looking at me became more intense.

Lucien: Why did you say that we saw it together “the last time we’ve been here”? Our only meeting in this building happened only a few days ago. Shall I remind you what happened at that day?

(It’s interesting that Yōurán thinks of chapter 13 while Lucien thinks of strangling her in chapter 21. This Lucien is not the Lucien from chapter 1-18.)

Lucien approached me briskly and I stepped back. My back reached the hard wall and there was nowhere for me to escape. His eyes turned sinister, like he was about to hunt a feeble prey.

There were a lot of things I wanted to say to him. But I doubted that it would work. After a short hesitation, I finally opened my mouth.

Yōurán: I told you. I have someone who’s very important to me. I came here with that person.

Lucien seemed unsatisfied with my evading answer and he continued to look at me with displeasure.

Yōurán: You look quite a lot like him, so for a second, I… mistook you for him.

I pretended to be calm as I said that, but my heart kept beating wildly.

Lucien froze for a moment, then his eyes flashed like a sharp knife. He closed the distance between us and grabbed my wrist tightly. I jerked my hand away, but he only grabbed it tighter.

For a few seconds we confronted each other like that, both sides unwilling to back off.

Yōurán: Are you angry?

Suddenly, his hands gripping my wrist loosened.

Lucien: Why would I be angry at you?

His expression told me that he was being sincere. He really seemed to be puzzled at his reaction.

(omg I like this part. Lucien was feeling jealous of the other Lucien! And he doesn’t know that what he’s feeling is jealousy!)

Yōurán: If you’re not, then fine. I don’t want to create any misunderstandings. Right now, we are not even in a cooperative relationship.

Lucien: I agree. Where is the dream experiment data?

Yōurán: I’m sorry?

Suddenly, a blinding white light impaired our visions. I saw traces of tension in Lucien’s frown.

Lucien: Wait here.

Lucien went outside and stood still in the snow.

His face turned menacing as he stared at the unwelcome guest approaching. I watched them hiding by the window. He was facing a few people. One of them had grisly scars on his face.

A white barrier surrounded them, and I could hear Lucien’s voice.

Lucien: It’s you.

??: Long time no see, Ares.

They were from Black Swan. Did they come here because of the information I leaked? Would Lucien be in danger? Fear swept over me and I tiptoed to the front door to get a closer look.

Hades: You beat me to it. Once again, you showed that you are not to be underestimated. If we could work together…

Lucien; Don’t be absurd. I already turned down your offer and I have no intention of changing my mind.

(Poor Hades. He was rejected by Ares in chapter 16 and he’s being rejected here too.)

I couldn’t see Lucien’s face but his voice sounded extremely menacing. The face of the other man became sour and his false smile hardened.

Hades: Then let’s get down to business. Do you have the special genetics file?

Lucien’s answer seemed to enrage him even more.

Hades: Let’s not be too difficult here. Ares, you’re a smart person. You gotta know that my goals and your goals are not entirely contradictory.

Lucien: So?

Hades: Hand me the data, or cooperate with me.

Lucien: Do you think you are in a position to bargain with me?

Hades: If not, I have no choice but to get rid of you.

He raised his hand and suddenly a swirl of snowstorm swarmed over Lucien. Lucien stood still and waved his right hand. Ice pillars came out from the ground and shattered the snowy attack.

Hades: Exceptional work, Ares. But this is not over yet.

His face with the heinous scar reflected in the moonlight and became etched to my vision. Suddenly, I felt a gigantic shock in my head and everything became dark.

Falling down into abyss, scent of blood, Lucien whispering in my ear…

Lucien: Silly girl…. I didn’t lie to you… I will not sacrifice someone important to me.

His broken words poured into my head. I felt like I was suffocating.

(She finally recovered her lost memories from chapter 16)

In the distance I heard a gunshot and I came back to reality.

Yōurán: Lucien…

I opened the door and ran outside. Lucien must have heard me since he turned around to face me.

As he saw me running toward him I saw in his eyes surprise, wrath and a fleeting glimpse of intense ecstasy.

Yōurán: Are you okay? Are you hurt?

Lucien shoved my hand away.

Lucien: I’m fine. You ignored my warnings as always.

Yōurán: I followed my instinct and it brought me here. Someone taught me to trust my instincts when there’s danger.

The corner of his mouth went up a little bit.

Lucien: Tell him he’s wrong.

(Tell him yourself. She’s talking about you.)

With that Lucien dragged me behind him and protected me. A ray of white light just barely missed my shoulder. Fury was in his eyes and his smile turned sinister, as if determined to finish the opponent.

Huge snowflakes erupted out from his gloved hands, turned into piercing ice knives and shot forward. I could smell blood in the air.

I could feel someone coming for an attack from Lucien’s blind spot.

Yōurán: Be careful!

Without hesitation I pushed Lucien away from harm. A sharp blade grazed my cheek. At that second, I saw a look of shock in his eyes reflected on the surface of the icy fragments.

Another burst of blinding light forced me to close my eyes. When I opened them again, we were the only people there.

Lucien: It’s all right now.

I wondered if I was dreaming when I heard him gently talking to me like before. But when I looked at him there was anger in his eyes and I stiffened.

The cut on my cheek throbbed and I couldn’t suppress a grimace. Lucien raised his hand toward me then after a second thought, he put it back down again. Then he cleared his throat and avoided my eyes.

Lucien: Since you used such an unusual method to call me out here, I suppose you already made up your mind to deal with possible injuries. But… you didn’t fail in surprising me. Your powers are much stronger than I thought. My expectations weren’t futile.

Lucien: But you should know that, when the real danger comes, the values that you believe in might make you be in more danger. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.

Yōurán: I saved you in the end, though, didn’t I?

Lucien: ……Why? Why did you save me? And I’ve been wanting to ask you before… who in the world are you?

His each word became etched to my heart. I looked at my reflection in his eyes.

Yōurán: I thought you already knew. I’m Queen.

Lucien: And…?

I laughed bitterly.

Yōurán: Shouldn’t you thank me for saving you?

Lucien: Shouldn’t you answer my question first?

I pretended not to hear him.

Yōurán: You owed me this time, so don’t forget to pay me back next time we meet. Then I will answer your question.

Lucien: Why should I trust you?

Yōurán: Pinky swear, then.

My unconscious action driven out from habit startled both of us.

(In chapter 13, Lucien and Yōurán made a pinky swear to fly kites together before the spring was over... which he didn’t get to keep.)

It seemed like nothing had changed between us, but everything was at a new starting point now.

Lucien lightly laughed at my childish behavior. My cheeks turned red and I put my hand down and made to leave.

Lucien: I thought you said pinky swear.

Yōurán: I’m not a child.

And you didn’t even keep that promise that you made long ago.

Lucien: Alright. I promise. Don’t forget to answer my question the next time we meet.

Yōurán: I won’t.

I turned around and walked away as if I was unfazed by what happened. I was afraid that my feelings bubbling up inside would burst out if I stayed any longer.

Lucien stared at her with amusement in his eyes…and some other sentiment.

Lucien: I look forward to seeing you again.

As she went further away from him, the beautiful colors faded and the world turned back to gray. It somehow reminded him of the dream he had forgotten a long time ago.

Lucien shook his head trying to keep his thoughts clear. But no matter now hard he tried he kept thinking about her face, her eyes, her looks of sadness. How she seemed to miss someone when she was looking at him.

Without knowing why, anger welled up inside him. He had no idea that this would affect him like this. He felt like a mariner roaming in the deep sea even though he knew his destination.

(Lucien being jealous of himself again.)

___________________________________

When I was far away from the research institute I sighed.

Yōurán: Lucien, don’t you remember who I am? It’s me, Yōurán, who always used to pester you with silly chatter, wait for your stories every night, who learned from you to see the wider world…. who always chose to get closer to you even when you warned me away…

Next time we meet, I hope it’s spring. People will fly kites in this year too.

My memories of him were warm in my heart, giving me courage to encounter him with my back straight and my head held high.

It’s okay. Even when on my own, I can keep our promise by flying kites by myself.

One person held two people’s memories, so I was sure that I could face what’s to come with a braver heart.

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Lucien is the one who said “Love can lead people into traps. I’ll never let emotions stand in my way again.”

It seems that Lucien from winter Loveland City is going to fall into this trap too.

#mlqc #mlqc translation #mlqc lucien #mlqc date

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sabraeal · 4 years

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We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 7

Written for @k-itsmaywriting as her prize for winning the Trope Madness kitty last March! I’d make the usual groaning noises about how late I am, but honestly...this is about as good as I could do this year XD

“So let me get this straight.” Obi’s long fingers steeple over his character sheet. “Not only is homeslice the lord of this particular castle and its whole dealie--”

“Demense,” Kiki offers.

“--Right, demense. That sounds fancy enough. So he’s not only the big wig of this demense place, but also--” her stomach curls to match the trajectory of his smirk-- “my lady’s boyfriend.”

“Ah! It’s not like that!” Shirayuki waves her hands, attempting to scuttle this whole avenue of inquiry. “He’s not-- we’re not-- together.” She dares a glance at Izana. “I...think?”

His mouth twitches; no comment. This may be presumptuous of me, one of his first texts reads, burning a hole in her pocket, but would you be open to a potential failed betrothal in your backstory?

There was no way for her to know, not when her only image of Zen’s older brother was a blond man behind a backseat window, waiting in the school parking lot, but still, still--

I’m open to whatever you think would go best, should not have been her answer. Every poster on r/tabletop would have called her...well, nothing polite, that’s for one.

“I mean, maybe...technically?” She’s not entirely sure how fourth century betrothals work, especially fantasy ones. “Lynet is under the impression that this was all dissolved for, ah...” Izana offers her a beatific smile, like an angel before it sets fire to a city. “...reasons.”

“But officially,” Obi presses, “he has dibs.”

Her mouth pulls flat. “I guess if you’re the sort of person who thinks you can call dibs on a sentient being with free will, yes.”

“Right,” Obi bulldozes on, oblivious to the pothole he’s hurtling toward, “and now he’s throwing you this banquet--”

“The banquet’s for all of us,” Zen snaps, arms cross and cheeks flushed. “As a reward for saving Laxdo.”

“Oh, is that right? As I remember it--” Obi taps his chin, so thoughtful-- “Lynet was the one who figured out the whole compulsion thing. And who was it that broke the curse? Oh, right: Lynet.”

“No!” Shirayuki claps her hands to her cheeks. It would be nice if she could take even a fictional compliment without blushing. “You all helped!”

“See?” Zen cuts a hand toward her, smug. “It’s for all of us.“

“Oh yes,” Kiki deadpans, teeth peeking out from her smirk. “Moral support is just as important as actually solving the puzzle. I’m sure his lordship agrees.”

Mitsuhide rubs at his chin, stubble scraping over his palm. Four hours ago, he arrived clean shaven; now he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow. Shirayuki can only stare in wonder.

“I think...they might have a point.” He winces under Zen’s scowl. “Not that I think we weren’t important! But Lord Shuuka...”

He shrugs. It’s like watching mountains heave, but in a gentle, lovable way.

Kiki’s mouth twitches. “I have the distinct impression we were afterthoughts on that banquet invitation.”

“I’m the Prince of all the Britons and the Angles!” Zen shrills, slapping his hand on the table. “I’m not an afterthought.”

The room goes suddenly,awkwardly silent; the only noise the rattle of heating through the ducts. The exactly moment his words echo back to him is made painfully clear by the way he blushes, blotchy and red all up and down his neck, like he’s the one with a curse.

Kiki’s eyebrow nearly collides with her hairline. “You mean Arturius?”

“That’s what I said,” Zen grumbles, hunching down in his seat. “Or at least what I meant.”

“In any case,” Obi presses on, “what’s a king to a cute girl you’re gonna marry--?”

“We’re not engaged.” It’s pointless; Obi’s clearly concerned less about Lynet’s marital status and more about riling Zen up about it, but still. “I mean, not now.”

“Betrothed,” Izana interjects casually, tapping the end of his pen on his notebook. “It is different. Legally.”

Shirayuki nibbles on her lip, stomach wriggling in a concerned squirm. Nothing good comes of Izana getting pedantic.

“Sure, maybe you’re not now,” Obi allows with a shrug of his shoulder. “But come on, what better place is there to woo a medieval maiden than a banquet?”

“A ball,” Kiki offers, flat, at the same time Mitsuhide thoughtfully posits, “A stroll through the garden.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zen snips, lifting his chin. “Shirayuki already said Lynet wasn’t interested.”

“Sure, sure. Hey, boss.” Obi pitches toward Izana with a smile that can only be described as looking for trouble. “How tall is this guy?”

For once, Izana seems flustered, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks down at his notes. “I’m sorry, come again?”

“This Shuuka dude. The lord here? The baron or whatever he is.” He rests his chin on his hand, smile sharpening into a feral grin. “How tall is he?”

“Ah...average, I suppose.” His brows knit, fingers shuffling through his papers. “There aren’t any good estimates of height for this era, but I suppose if you wanted a modern equivalent...five-ten? Five-eleven?”

“Really? You don’t say.” Obi cuts his smile toward Zen. “And just how tall are you, Your Highness?”

Shirayuki winces at the flush climbing Zen’s neck; if they’d been outside, she’d have suggested some aloe vera before the burn blistered. As it is...

Zen’s fingers crumple the edge of his sheet. “Arturius is six-one.”

Obi hums. “How interesting.”

It is a fine day at Laxdo; this autumn may still have a bite, but it’s crisp, refreshing after so many days in the confines of the great hall. A great hall that is now transformed, tables and benches populating it instead of the sick. Most of the afflicted now hobble about the grounds, slow and unsteady, but healing; the few still confined to their sickbeds are only the elderly and previously infirm, and your attentions are a boon to them still.

The manifest is in your hand now, the last few names in your care curling across the page. It is those men on your mind now as you sweep through Laxdo’s bright corridors, striding through the tiger stripes the sun leaves across the rushes. Your burden is light now that the castle’s healer is back on his feet, able to help with potions and poultices and whatever else you are able to fashion to ease the weakness in your patients, but logistics are ever the enemy. Supplies were depleted before you arrived and have only been brought lower. Winter is just around the corner, and--

Steel rings through the stone. Metal on metal-- blades meeting. Out in the courtyard.

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, and your pace hurries to match it. Surely, surely it cannot be an attack; not now, when Laxdo is but a shade of its former glory.

The certainty of pragmatism grips you, your stomach roiling in its clutches. But of course it must be. What lord could suffer the sweet temptation of a neighbor brought low? It would be nothing to sweep in here and take the manor for a second son, something to placate him, to keep him complacent for another dozen years.

You steel yourself, wishing you had more than the bare pouch of herbs and water skein you carry on you, and step into the blinding light of the arcade--

Only to see a crowd of men gathered in the yard, conspicuously not fighting. Oh no, they are cheering instead.

Your mouth pulls thin, and ah, fortune favors you, for the crowd parts just so, and there are two of your recently healed patients, bare steel in hand, fighting each other in the yard.

Violence is not in your nature, but oh, you are contemplating a change of philosophy.

“Lady Lynet.”

You should startle; time and experience have taught you to shy when approached from behind, but strangely...you do not. Shuuka comes to stand beside you, a respectful distance as is due to your station, but closer than you have been used to these last few months, and it is-- easy. Familiar.

The lord of Laxdo has certainly seen better days; his shoulders stoop as if he expects to be smaller, and the circles beneath his eyes are quite deep still, but-- he smiles, and it is easy to see that time will heal his ills, even these.

“Shuuka,” you murmur in greeting, leaning against one of the arcade’s columns. “It is good to see you on your feet.”

“It is good to be on them,” he assures you with a laugh that brightens the day around you. “I see you are taking in this fine weather.”

“I am. And so are you men, it seems,” you add, wry. “Whether or not I told them to.”

“I know you told them to rest,” he says, lips struggling to rein in his smile, “but it has been a long season for my men. To be outside after such a long sickness, to be moving as one ought--” the longing on his face is plain to see and painful to witness-- “perhaps you might allow them this. Just this once.”

You watch the men dance around each other in the ring, laughing and shouting, breathless from both, and let your jaw ease. “Just this once.”

Shuuka smiles, a bright, earnest thing, and it is so hard to reconcile him to the boy you knew all those years ago. The small lord’s son who viewed the whole world through a veil of tears. He’s grown up better than you could have ever hoped.

He leans on the pillar across from yours, eyeing you with an eager sort of wariness. “I have set the night of the banquet.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” His skitters away, back toward his men. “Tonight. If-- if you allow it.”

“Oh!” You had not-- this was not-- you are not even prepared--

“Hey, you!”

You both jump, heads swinging to where Arturius storms across the yard, looking as unrelenting as winter itself. “You and I must have words, Lord Shuuka!” He glances at you, mouth pulled thin. “Privately.”

Shirayuki considers herself well read.

An understatement, actually; a well-crafted cover for the amount of hours she’d spent curled up in the B&B’s window, devouring books Jaja bought by the box at a yard sale, or the amount she could carry in her arms from the library.

(The maximum was supposed to be five at any one time, but during on particularly slow summer in middle school, the librarian had made a special “all you can carry” policy, applied solely to Shirayuki. It had turned her daily trips into weekly ones, and saved her from slowing her pace to a crawl Saturday nights, so that she could have something to read on Sunday)

She doesn’t have a favorite book-- just thinking about culling the list to top ten makes her break out into a cold sweat, let alone one-- but she has formative ones. Ones that became annual re-reads or just stuck with her, claiming a stake in the back of her mind, ready to whisper the words she needs when she wants a laugh, or the rest of the world gets too hard to handle.

So it’s no surprise when she looks at Obi, his grin stretching impossibly, gleefully wide, and thinks Cheshire Cat. It only makes sense, since she’s fallen down the rabbit hole.

“Well now,” he drawls, far too pleased. “I think we all saw this coming.”

Kiki arches a brow. “What? Because you goaded him into it?”

“Princess,” he gasps, hand pressed against his chest. “Would I purposefully rile up the Prince of all the Briton and the Angles?”

“Absolutely.”

His retort is lost, cut off by the heavy tread of Zen clomping down the stairs. If Shirayuki thought some hallway time might help him cool off, well-- that notion is instantly disabused when he turns the corner on the landing. If anything, he’s more agitated, neck flushed and mouth flat, slouching over to his seat like he’s asking for someone to start a fight.

Izana is not much better, even if his annoyance is more subtle. He settles into his chair with lips pressed thin, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that does not suggest good humor.

“Now if no one else has any more business,” he says, voice a trembling thread of his patience, “I think we can skip right to the feast.”

Shirayuki shifts, biting her cheek. It’s not important, it really isn’t but still-- “Um...”

Izana peers up from his notes, brows raised with a shocking lack of sarcasm. “Did you want to do something, Shirayuki?”

“Oh, no, I just, um...” She rolls a corner of Lynet’s sheet, tight and neat under her stubby fingernail. “I just wanted a...clarification?”

He blinks, flipping a hand out in encouragement. “Go on...?”

“It’s only, ah....” It’s silly, she knows that, but she’s already started asking. “Is this an...informal feast?”

Izana’s mouth parts, just slightly. “I’m...sorry?”

“I thought I would ask since Lynet didn’t exactly pack her, um, fanciest gowns.” Her cheeks flare with heat, and ugh, she really just should have let the chips fall as they may on this one. At least if the stares she’s getting from the rest of the table are any indication. “She was traveling light.”

“I...” His mouth opens once, then shuts. Opens again, brows furrowed. “Lord Shuuka has seen fit to outfit you all accordingly if you did not have appropriate clothing for the evening.”

She means to thank him, maybe even ask what might qualify as proper dress for a celebration such as this, but--

“So what you’re saying,” Obi interjects, grin slanted and sly, “is that Beaumain’s got some sick new threads.”

Regret etches itself on every plane of Izana’s face. “...Yes. I suppose.”

“Ha.” Obi leans back, eyes tracing a searing trail up her from heels to hairline. “Then yeah, I got something I want to do before this shindig.”

Had the Lord Himself but asked you if there were women in Laxdo, you would have sworn upon the grave of your mother that you and Morgaine were the only two. Surely you had treated none when the castle was under its curse. But when you attempt to beg off the feast, explaining that you are not properly clad for such a celebration--

Well, Shuuka finds you a gown easily enough. Your fingers linger over the remarkable wool, woven thin and tight, dyed a rich indigo. Woad, you think, though your own forays with it never yielded a color so impressive. The linen kirtle is the same, so light it might as well be air, and oh, you may be born a lady, but never did the Castle Perilous have such luxury.

A knock lands lightly upon your door, a quick little ditty sketched on oak. You’ve heard it before, though you can’t remember the words, or even the tune, just the beat. Ba-ba-bum. Bum-bum. A song from a better time.

You shake yourself. Song it may be, but a summons it is still. And you are the one who must answer it.

The door is heavy beneath your hands, but you coax it open with little effort. Behind it is the evening’s shadows, thick in the growing dim, and the gold that shines from them.

“Ah Beaumains,” you murmur as his outline resolves into a man, one dressed as fine as you. His colors are more subdued, the black of the shadows and the deep blues of his skin, humbler than any words that have passed his lips. “I was not expecting that you would, um...?”

“I am your escort, my lady.” He bows over his arm, a gallant. His pose gives the distinct impression of mocking Bedwyr, though the man himself is not in evidence. “What sort of shield would I be if I let you walk into the fray alone?”

“Ah...” You stare at his sleeve as he holds it out to you, hesitant. “I suppose that would be...unseemly, yes.”

“And I, the height of propriety.” His teeth flash like a knife’s edge as you slip your hand around his elbow. “Lucky, too.”

Your brows raise. “Oh?”

“Of course.” He shrugs; every inch a siege. “I get to see how nice you look before everyone else.”

“Hey!” Zen directs the brunt of his scowl toward Izana, though the angle of his glare is easily wide enough to include Obi. “Why is Beaumains getting this scene?”

“This scene?” Izana drawls, utterly mild. “Do you mean the conversation he just had with Lynet in her chambers?”

“Yes!” Zen’s jaw sets into an ill-tempered jut. “If anyone, Arturius--”

“You mean the scene wherein Beaumains takes the opportunity afforded by his current occupation to further their flirtation,” Izana continues, “the flirtation in which both players have built upon from their character introductions?”

A flush licks flames up her jaw, threatening to blaze across her cheeks. It’s one thing for it to happen, it’s another thing for everyone to just talk about it.

“...Yes.”

Izana raises a brow. “Because he asked.”

And it’s a whole other thing to do it like she wasn’t even here.

“Well, I want one too!” Zen pushes, hands gripping at the table. “Arturius--”

“Is missing the point that the DM is making,” Kiki supplies, deadpan. “Which is that Lynet is also choosing to have this scene too.”

Zen sputters, red-faced. “I know that! Shirayuki wouldn’t have any problem if Arturius wanted to--”

“Arturius is having a very long, very pointed heart-to-heart with the lord of Laxdo,” Izana reminds him. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Well, it’s not like that took all day!” he protests. “I have time to do both.”

Izana pinches the bridge of his nose, letting a long, noise breath out. “The next half hour is not going to be all and sundry complimenting Lynet on her sartorial choices.”

“It’s not everyone, just Artur--”

“Why not?” Kiki tilts back her chair, wedging her knees against the table. “Morgaine wants to tell her she’s beautiful too. How about Bedwyr?”

Mitsuhide stares at her, slack-jawed, before darting a worried look toward Iana. “W-well,” he says finally, with a hard swallow, “he certainly wouldn’t be able to disagree.”

Izana stares at Kiki, nonplussed. “Well then,” he drawls, mouth settling into a disconcerting smile. “What do you think, Shirayuki?”

She’s already pink, but with everyone’s eyes on her, her skin burns to a painful red. “M-me?”

“Shall we allow Arturius--” he darts a quelling glance at Kiki-- “et al to have their moment with Lynet, or shall we press on to the feast?”

Zen smiles at her, so kind and warm, just like he did that first day at school, and she-- she wishes that this wasn’t up to her. It’s not as if she minds the compliments-- fictional as they are-- but Beamains’ had been spontaneous, inspired by the moment, and this--

--Zen settles back, his smile curling smugly at the corners. His gaze is no longer on her, oh no, it’s on Obi, the challenge written clear in his eyes--

--has nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with the people playing it.

“I think,” she begins without a tremor in her voice, “I’m fine with moving on.”

Zen’s jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard the lady.” Izana lips twitch behind his paper screen. “She is content with only Beaumains’ love making.”

Shirayuki jolts. “That’s not what I sa--”

“Anyway,” he continues, ignoring his brother’s glare and Obi’s grins in response, “it’s the feast now.”

This is no longer the great hall you remember.

Or perhaps it is if you search your earliest memories; if you allow yourself to remember being seated upon the dais, a cushion placed beneath you so that you might reach the table and impress the court with your grace. You did not-- you sister would have, were she allowed, but it was you who would be sent to marry at Laxdo, not her, practically an infant still. It was no disaster; it was not your beauty that had brought the lord of Laxdo to break bread with your father.

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka rises on the dais, holding up a hand. “Please, come here!”

It is perhaps a different tale now.

Still, this no longer resembles the hall in which you have been toiling in these long weeks. That was a dark, stifling place, the miasma of curse and compulsion lingering for days after you had dispelled them. But this--

This is a new country entirely. Candles twinkle in their holder overhead, the ceilings so high they seem as distant as the stars themselves. Bodies no longer line the hall but instead pack benches, the men dressed bright and boisterous, ale already flowing from their cups.

“Surveying your domain?”

You blink, eyes blurring as they settle on the shadow beside you. His teeth flash white against the indigo of his lips, too amused. “N-no! I was only thinking of how changed this place is. Only days ago man laid head to toe, and now...”

He tilts his heads, horns glimmering in the candlelight. “Now they are all hidden away, and we play at heroes.”

It is only the rough wool beneath your fingers, wrapped around the hard curve of his shoulder, that tells you once again you have acted without thinking. You cheeks burn as you pull away-- to think, you raised a hand to him as if he were one of the tenants’ children chasing you around the courtyard, as if you had known him all your life.

“Oh, my lady,” he clucks. “How rough you are with your servant--”

“You were unkind,” you murmur heatedly. “There are few enough that are still ailing, and they would be better served in their rooms. There is no harm in Laxdo’s lord wanting to celebrate their good fortune.”

“Mayhaps.” His nose wrinkles. “A little ridiculous, you must admit.”

You snorts, unladylike. “Says the one who polished his horns.”

Ah, now the shoe is on the other foot. His gaze is quick to drop from yours, expression rumpled with annoyance. Beaumains may be eager to ridicule the pageantry of the nobles, but he enjoys it as well.

“Come on then.” His arm tugs at yours, not gentle. “Let’s see what your skill has won you, my lady.”

You sputter, feet stumbling as you attempt to keep pace. “As I said, I am not--”

“Ah.” Beaumains mouth curves slyly, eyeing the tables he leads you past. “You may not be taking their measure, but it seems tonight they will take yours.”

It is only his words that make you notice; conversations quiet as you pass, the men’s eyes following you not with hunger, but with curiosity. For the first time, you prefer the former more than the latter.

“I cannot see why.” You take pains to place your feet more carefully, to strive for that ladylike bearing your sister achieves so easily. “They know me already.”

“But tonight is different.” He nods to the empty place beside Shuuka. You stomach drops when you see it is to his right. “Tonight they find out if you fit into the lady’s seat.”

You gut clenches. You did not come so far for this to dog your heels once again. “That-- that cannot be. I have been clear--”

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka waves again, though more subtly. No need for grand gestures when you are already so close. “Come, take your place by me.”

Beaumains’ brows raise. “Are you sure?”

You thought you were, but the smile the lord gives you as you approach gives you doubts. Beaumains pulls out your chair, chin tucked respectfully, but you do not miss his amused smirk or his knowing look. Fine. He may think what he likes but this is not-- not that. Your betrothal is long in the past for both you and Laxdo’s lord.

“My women did well,” Shuuka tells you, friendly and bright, no hint of romance. “You look radiant, my lady.”

Well...not much of one, at least. “They have my thanks,” you reply, “I truly had nothing for a feast such as this.”

His smile widens, and it does him credit that he keeps it as he turns to Beaumains. “Thank you as well, for escorting my lady.”

To his other side, Arturius scowls, glaring as your shadow performs a polite bow, no respect spared. The same he categorically refused to show the prince. “My pleasure, your lordship.”

“You honor us with your actions, Sir Beaumains.” Shuuka gestured past her, hand open in generosity. “Please, take the seat next to the Lady Lynet, I--”

A chair scrapes across the dais, and Arturius stands, as thunderous as any storm. “That man is no sir.”

The room is so quiet it practically has its own crickets. Or at least it would, if the atmosphere hadn’t suffocated them all. Shirayuki has admit, she’s feeling a little stifled herself

Mitsuhide shifts, chair creaking, mouth grim. “Zen...”

“No,” he snaps, still on his feet, red-faced and tense as he squares off with his brother. “It’s ridiculous! He’s a commoner.”

Izana peers up from his notes, raising a mild brow. “Is this really something you think is appropriate to pursue right now?”

Speaking fluent teacher like she does, Shirayuki hears the warning loud and clear: back down. But of course, Zen doesn’t.

“Beaumains doesn’t belong on the dais,” he reasons angrily. “He should be down at the tables with the vassals and retainers.”

Izana’s expression doesn’t betray a single thought, smooth as still water. “I must concede the point, technically, but as he is a member of your party, it would make sense if--”

Zen barks out a laugh. “Oh, you’re such a stickler for accuracy, but now you’re going to break a simple rule of hospitality--”

“It’s for ease of play--”

“It’s meta gaming.”

If she’d thought the room was quiet before, she’s disabused of the notion now. All motion has ceased; even Kiki holds her breath, eyes fixed on Izana who-- who--

Stands. Or rather, unfurls; every inch is a journey as his long limbs draw straight. It’s hard to remember when Mitsuhide can hardly fit both his thighs on a dining chair, but Izana is tall, a good ten inches above her perfectly respectable 5′4. He uses every bit of that to his advantage as he looms over his brother, eyes cool and steady. “I think--”

“It’s fine.”

Obi lounges in his chair, ankle cross over knee without a care in the word. Big Dick Energy, Kihal would tell her, and wow, she really does not need to be thinking about that right now, in the middle of all this.

His lips slowly spread into a grin that does not help her brain stay on the straight and narrow, not one little bit. “Beaumains can sit among the masses.”

“Obi...” His head swivels to her, and oh, she really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but-- it’s too late to turn back now. “You don’t need to--”

“Nah, nah, it’s no big deal,” he laughs, waving her off. “Let’s be real, given a choice between being in the box seats or getting trashed with the smallfolk, we all know which one he’d pick.”

Izana frowns, brow knitting. “As much as I appreciate your rationality in the face of the irrational, Obi, it isn’t necessary. It makes more narrative sense for Beaumains to be treated the same as the rest of the party--”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it, boss man. I can tank a hit for historical accuracy.” His gaze cuts to Zen. “In our fantasy roleplaying game where I play a demon and half the party does magic.”

Zen has the grace to look abashed, at least.

Izana lowers himself back into his chair, mouth set in faint disapproval. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, no prob.” Obi grins, sending her stomach into a tailspin. “Don’t worry, my lady, Beaumains knows how to keep himself entertained.”

You may sit at the lord of Laxdo’s right hand, but it is Morgaine who sits at yours, as radiant as any song. By all rights, she should be in your place; base-born she may be, but king’s daughter outranks a count’s, even born on the wrong side of the sheets. Still, she makes no protest when she takes her seat, only curling her lips in one of her mysterious smiles.

Shuuka is an attentive host, selecting the choicest cuts from the trays and laying them upon your plate. He chooses well for you, each morsel a delightful burst of flavor upon your tongue, but still--

Beaumains’ teasing spoils your every bite. It does not escape you that your host is not paying Arturius the same diligent attention but-- one does not feed a king. Or, rather, a prince. And you, well-- you would be the first to say that the curse was ended by the efforts of your whole party, but you know the men of Laxdo hold a different opinion.

(And for that matter, so does Beaumains, which he shares loudly and without prompting whenever possible, much to Arturius’ ire. It is flattering, but oh, you would much rather not be a needle used to provoke, no matter who holds it)

It is kind of Shuuka to pay you such an honor, but still, it leaves you feeling awkward, as if you were born with two left hands. You cast helpless looks to your right, but Morgaine only replies with sly smiles, ones that make your skin itch with expectation.

With no safe place to look on the dais, your gaze fans out over the press below. Lady you may be, but it’s the benches you are used to; your father had never stood much on ceremony, preferring to eat and be merry among his men, rather than make himself a proper lord. Even now you long to be among them; the talk may be bawdy and the drink more sour, but you would not suffer so many eyes upon you, measuring the curve of you breast and speculating on the red of your hair.

You do not look long before your eye catches on midnight blue and glistening horns; even dressed as a shadow, Beaumains is hard to miss among the lord’s men. He laughs, tossing his head back, hand pressed to his belly-- a truer one on him than any you have seen. To think, you had pitied him when Shuuka did not tender an invitation to the dais, but now--

Well, he’s certainly enjoying himself more than you are.

A sharp prod to your ribs sets you upright, your mind snapping back to the present, reminding you sharply that you are being watched and weighed by the same men you long to join. Morgaine pulls back her elbow, sending a pointed look over your shoulder. To Shuuka.

Shuuka, who is staring at you expectantly. Shuuka, who has almost certainly asked you a question that you did not hear.

Morgaine reaches for the wine pitcher, bumping your shoulder. “He’s asking if all this is to you liking.”

“Oh!” You stitch a smile to you face. “Yes. The fest is, ah...lovely. You do me a great honor. Ah, us a great honor.”

His own smile widens, sore pleased. “I am glad to hear it, Lady Lynet. It was my greatest hope that you would find Laxdo pleasing.”

You nod, awkward, before turning back to your meal. It is hardly touched, only a single bite from each dish, and you suffer a pang of chagrin to think you have so obviously ignored his generosity-- save that you notice everyone else’s plate remains untouched as well.

Shuuka’s chair scrapes across the dais as he stands, holding his arms wide. “Before we partake of this feast--”

Oh, Lord in Heaven, the blessing. You had forgotten it entirely. Your gaze darts guiltily across the table, trying to see whether the lord’s chaplain has caught your petty sin, but the only man of the cloth at the table is Bedwyr.

“--We must all give thanks to Our Lord in heaven, from whom all our bounty flows.”

A murmur of agreement shuffles out from the men at the tables, heads bowed with lips mouthing an impassioned amen--

Ah, right. Bowed heads. What she should be doing now, in this place of honor.

“I would be remiss if I also did not offer our gratitude to the Lady Lynet.” Your head snaps up, gaze tangling helplessly with his. “If it was not for her cleverness and diligence, not a single man would be standing here today.”

This is-- this is not the toast you thought he would make, not when he spoke of the feast this morning. Not when he had told you it would be in honor of those who saved Laxdo.

“We are blessed that the angels guided her back to us after so many years away,” he continues, every word adding to the pit of dread growing in your belly. “It can only be the provenance of Our Heavenly Father that she has returned, and in returning, removed the blight from our land. I would be turning my back upon God Himself and all His angels if I did not receive what blessing he has given us.”

You heart pounds loudly in your chest, rattling the drums of war. You had been so clear. You had said--

Not enough. Nothing short of an explicit refusal ever stuck in a man’s ear. you know this all too well.

It galls you that Beaumains knew it better.

“My father has passed, but his will has always been my guide.” Shuuka showers praises down on you, oblivious to how you wither beneath it. “It had been his wish to seen our houses joined, along with your father’s, my lady. I am eager to tread the path they left for us.”

You want to protest, you mean to protest. But all of the eyes of Laxdo are upon you, and-- and your hands clench helplessly in your skirt. For a man to be refused after such a speech, after such feeling, in front of all his men--

It would be kinder to leave a blade in him. At least that he might recover from.

Your gaze swivels to your left, to your right, but Arturius sits, stunned, and his sister is much the same. The moment for an objection has passed for them, for all those who sit on this dais, but on the floor--

You cast your gaze out, searching, hoping, but--

Beaumains is not among the tables, not anymore.

The chair squeals across the floorboards as Izana stands, smoothing down his pants.

“Wha-- where are you going?” Zen stares at him, jaw slack. “We’re in the middle of a feast. This jerk just proposed!”

Izana flips his phone, screen out, and there is Obi’s name, right at the top of his messages. hey boss can b get himself some quality hallway time

It buzzes, followed up by a long string of hot lips emojis, double hearts, and what looks like an eggplant..

“Well,” Kiki drawls, “now I know too much.”

Izana glances at his screen before swinging to glare at Obi. “Really?”

He shrugs, gleefully pocketing his cellphone. “Hey, you set it up. I just took the shot.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue that.” Izana sighs, gathering up his dice. “Give us a moment.”

“Don’t rush on our account,” Kiki hums, mouth twitching at a corner.

Izana groans, shaking his head. “At least pretend you’re going to behave.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #dungeons & dragons au #my fic #ans #one more chapter to the end of this arc #thought now I'm also considering ending this fic after that #and then having the next arc being its own fic #i don't know #these are the funnicky things I have to consider while i'm writing these fics #because otherwise this will be like a 40 chapter 150k fic or something #WHO KNOWS #i got another chapter to decide

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mer-birdman · 7 years

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@quilleth asked: For the ways to say I love you prompts, for your 7kpp angst child ;) 22 (I'm evil, I know). or 29. For the signs of affection prompts: 1, 15 or 23

This is part 2, with the OCs! :) I know they may not have been what you intended, but don’t worry. There’s still plenty of angst to go around ^^ just OC angst instead of 7K angst, lol.

1 - A Touch (Filled with Kiki & Leo — QP? — from Natural 20)

He's hearing them again.

The voices.

I can tell better and better now, even though we're back in our world and he's staying on a spare futon in mine and Terra's room. We went to bed early tonight, because everything's been a mess since we found him and school just isn't helping. Neither Leo nor I have gone to class, but Indu's been sending all of our coursework home with Alice and Terra, so I've been trying to help him keep up. Even so, it's— it's not been easy.

I'm in my bed, trying to order a proper binder from one of the companies Arden's oldest brother suggested, and I know Leo's hearing the voices again because he's got his hands clasped over his ears and there's a sort of whimpering coming from his general location. Of course, there's also the part about things in his vicinity starting to shake and float.

From what we can tell, some things... carried over, from the other world. For all of us, not just Leo — sometimes, I feel energy pulsing at my fingertips, as though it wants me to use it but I don't know how. Sophie's noticed that she never gets bruises and scratches and headaches anymore, and the other day Terra picked up the couch Alice and I were sitting on while cleaning. With one hand, while vacuuming, and didn't even break a sweat. Xander doesn't make any noise when he walks, and whenever Arden sings any light source glows brighter. Indu and Alice haven't said anything, but I bet they're feeling something too — I just hope Alice doesn't start literally breathing fire at us. Or whatever her dragon heritage was in the game — I still don't know.

The glass of water on my desk starts to shake, and I close my laptop with a sigh. This is starting to become a new tradition, it seems, or at least until he recovers from— from whatever in the world this is. Because we don't know much about the voices, and Leo can't stand talking about them when he's coherent (and that itself has been pretty rare since we got back), but we do know how to fight them off.

Touch.

"Shh." I climb off of my bed and onto his futon, pushing my feet under his crumpled blanket and pulling it up over us both. The first time I did this, it was awkward, but since it helped him fall asleep for the first time since our return... well, I've gotten used to the proximity that comes when I wrap my arms around him and tuck his head against the side of my neck. He's crying, I can tell from the dampness on my skin, but that's okay. "It's okay, Leo. They can't get to you." His hands grab onto fistfuls of my shirt, legs that are longer than mine again (it's so strange, being back in this differently-shaped body after the time spent as Orpheus) knocking against my ankles and linking with my knees.

He's skinnier than he was before, and even though it's partially from his time spent there, I know he also hasn't been eating since we got back. He usually just isn't coherent enough to get much down, and sometimes on the worst days he can't even keep it there. I can feel his ribs against my arm, and while usually it would just remind me of my own dysphoria and body image issues (and oh, they're just worse now that I know what it's like to feel like my skin fits), now just isn't the time.

Leo sobs, quiet and barely more than a shaky breath, and I run one hand through his hair. The fuchsia dye is long gone, leaving just light brown the color of dust. I want nothing more than to destroy the person who did this to him, nothing more than to punish the one who hurt my best friend like this.

"They can't hurt you here."

15 - A Goodnight Kiss (Filled with Alexa & Corellon — Familial — from CotW)

"Cor?"

The form of her brother, curled on the bed with the blanket pulled up to cover everything but his empty eyes, hadn't changed since she last visited that morning, and Alexa repressed the urge to cry in anger. She knew, knew that his recovery would take time, that he had been trapped with that woman — with her mother, and she was definitely not going to think about that now — for almost nine years. She'd only been there for a couple months, and she still couldn't set foot above ground without freezing in fear.

But her brother had been trapped in this catatonic state since they rescued him, and that had been two weeks ago.

Alexa would never admit it, but she was disappointed. Scared, too, but more disappointed than anything. After so many years, she'd finally found her brother again — the boy who'd found her, raised her, taught her that no matter what the others in her village said, she was still precious and valuable — and he couldn't even hear her voice when she spoke to him. Didn't react when she held his hand and told him about what he'd missed in the years he was gone, didn't focus on her face when she knelt down to meet his eyes. Alexa knew she could more than take care of herself, but every time she came to this room, it felt like she was once again the little girl who'd lost the last part of her family, the little girl who didn't belong anymore.

The chair by his bedside was empty, and she settled herself into it again, reaching out to clasp his hand in hers like she did every night. "Dinner's over. Miri and Bal cooked tonight — they used Hallea's sauce recipe, and I swear Taliesin was salivating before it even hit the table." She laughed, scars tugging and eyebrows quirking up at the memory. "Zan almost smacked him, I think, and Cyriss couldn't stop laughing."

Silence filled the room.

"Tomorrow, we're going back to hand-to-hand training. The rest of the initiates and I are working with Savella on endurance and accuracy, and Cyriss is going to work with Taliesin on fighting with one hand. He's, um..." Pausing to clear her throat, she sighed and made a face. "His arm is healing well — Miss Lilia and Danaë are doing a fantastic job. But just... he hasn't smiled, even once, since we brought you back. I think he feels guilty, since you were his partner. He's been really upset about it."

Corellon didn't respond, blank gaze slowly closing as he slipped into sleep. Letting herself exhale softly, Alexa stood and released his hand, bending over to press a gentle kiss to his forehead the way he would to her when she was very little and still had nightmares about lightning and large birds. The stones laid in the ceiling dimmed as she crossed the room to the door, casting only the barest sort of moonlight glow when she paused and turned to look back at the still figure under the covers.

"Goodnight, Cor. Sleep well."

23 — Any of the Above (aka Author’s Choice) — 22. A Promise (Filled with Raven & Asia & Revel — Romantic — from Wild World)

She couldn't keep promises.

Violet — no, Raven, her name was Raven, she knew that — couldn't keep promises. Promises were dangerous, they were connections that would just tie her down. They would lock her in and take away her freedom, create risks and liabilities she couldn't afford to take with what was left of her life. She knew this, and yet— and yet—

"Don't worry, Asia." He was feverish, head pillowed on her thigh (he shouldn't have felt that safe with her, she was nothing but a weapon) and shivering even though it was warm in Nowex. The spider infestation was getting worse and worse, and he was starting to become incoherent with pain on the worst days. One eye was already lost, and one lung was almost gone — she knew that, she could see the signs. There was no reason to believe he would survive. "Don't worry, I promise we'll fix you."

Next to her, Revel was mixing up more medicine while everyone else slept (they shouldn't have felt that safe around her, to sleep while she was awake), and he paused to drape a damp cloth across Asia's too-warm brow. "Listen to her, Asia. You're going to be fine."

"Y-you sure about that?"

Thick, blood-tinted tears rolled down their friend's cheeks, and Violet— Raven, Raven, she knew this— wiped them away with one thumb (a thumb that could have killed a hundred men without a care, how was she able to use it for such a small kindness, it seemed impossible). They trusted her, but she's never been anything but a killer and a liar.

"Yeah. I promise."

Thanks for asking! Sorry if this isn’t quite what you intended >_<

Signs of Affection meme

#response #my writing #original character #quilleth

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bethechange209-blog · 7 years

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Men not all but you know who you are

Men look for the chase and variety , women look for comfort and security. Men take years to grow up they seem to have to try every flavor before they settle down and grow up . Running around hittin what ever bitch decides to give it up. Women date looking for the man of their dreams. Playing hard to get she won’t let her guard down just yet. Fighting the emotion once u show him attention he’ll get the wrong idea think ur needy and on to the next bitch line and tryna get ur besties attention. she’s perfect for him look in the mirror could of sworn it was a spitting image of him..Its a shame he has to keep connected to hella hos tell his bros how he hit it and quit it got his dick sucked but really he the insecure ho Fuckin for that instant gratification . .While his future wifey sittin at home netflix n chill no speculation It’s an on going cycle until he realizes these hos aint shit but a pretty face . But now it’s too late .. she used to love to hate how u treat her this way. Now his luck has changed She’s all burnt out on this cat and mouse chase. You the mouse now I’m the cat how does it feel to be next on the food chain . Still Wondering if your gonna call or text today .I look at the invisible clock on the wall reminding me Time heals heartbreak but needless to say it’s his heart that got broken today . She tried so hard to play her cards right and as soon as she had trust in her eyes he didn’t pay her no mind. Now He’s back on the market looking for a duplicate wasting his time . . He keeps looking and looking he thinks he found her ends up being a fake all she wanted was his salary cake boot leg version makes him irate now he lights up a cigarette starts to pace not knowing the nicotine and reality is making his heart race , calls her no answer ………She had everything . Good sense of humor , substance to her soul , beautiful smile , natural beauty and her intelligence .. modest meaning she really was secure. take it with a grain of salt she was ur true love the true beat to ur heart. Lil daddy this is all ur fault Next time trust your gut instead of your inner slut …….. He’s middle aged and settled in. Settling with a women that wasn’t truly destined for him. But that’s just it you get what u give. Premeditated destiny u get what u live . Kharma is a bitch and yes she came through . You’ll never be happy you used all the women good for u. Your wife gives birth to three daughters that look just like you . You never got your boy but these girls were meant to check you who knew. . … Now your 18 years older .. baby girls maturing and u can’t believe shes 18 years older Now your going through the heartache but this time …. Just wait. It’s a different feeling with a different meaning … Your baby girls first heartbreak. You contemplate end up Snatching her phone lookin up his number listed babe. She says daddy don’t it . Boys will be boys he ain’t ready for a relationship. Baby girl pull up a chair I got some wisdom to share. Daddy spare me like u say when I talk to much u suckin up all the good air . He lets my smart mouth slide your respect doesn’t coincide cuz ur hurting inside. He opens up his old cigar box he still has the knocks who owed him money written on the sides of his “cigar” trap box. pulls out a letter .. he says I hope u start to understand and feel better …It’s deeper then u think sit down and read unless u want to me preach . Dear Mya .. I wrote this letter long ago. I knew this day would come as you started to grow. He broke your heart and now u feel like you can’t go on any more .. but the show called life must go on you have so much to offer the world put on ur big girl pants and push on . You see when I was young I was just like him .. thought I was God’s gift to women. But once I had you and I knew you were gonna be outta diapers soon and turn into a women my daddy duties no longer include me changing you for school . Don’t cry boo. It’s my fault he did this to you . Who knew the hurt I passed along my journey would come back to haunt me in the form of these low life’s hurting you. Now I see through my own soul and now it’s all out of my control. You reep what u sew and these emotions a tailor couldnt sew. All my experiences self made. Not tailor made nothin special about paving the way gimme a hug baby you to good any way these young suckas can’t and don’t know how to love you the right way. Now your standing over my grave with the letter in hand. Thinking about that day in the kitchen and how u vowed to yourself never to cry over a man. like I’m the queen of my own emotions in my promise land . Daddy was right … heartaches and struggles cant phase me if I truly love me never wait for a man to make me feel relevant if he ain’t gonna treat me faithfully and respect me I’m not just another man’s commodity and I refuse to need you just for security. At the end of the letter u said my soul mate would come when I finished school reached my potential hitting all my deepest desires and goals. like the artist art finally gets noticed after the death . Your words will continue to gain value even after you’ve left. As I walk to my car a women walks up gives me a hug not knowing who this women is who stopped to show some love. I notice the G around her neck and I know exactly who she is how y'all first met this is Gloria your first love . You gave her the necklace when u tried to win back her love . She removes her gloves then takes off the necklace. She says I want you to have this. This necklace represents the lessons your daddy taught me about men. The letter he wrote you is a letter I wrote him . I told him he would pay even though our relationship is past tense .Mya baby when I broke if off he called me a bitch . I said wait a minute that’s just it any man who disrespects women calls them a bitch .. is gonna be the same fool who has to protect his daughter from hurt , anguish and the next man calling his daughter or any women close to his heart a bitch . We hug once more before I close the door … his wisdom and lessons that day in the kitchen will forever live on .. I’ll never forget …How our special bond molded u me and Gloria into chosen ones .. I’ll find that man to compliment me . I’m not looking but what I mean is he’ll find me. You made me into this women u always told me I would be . Phone rings It’s my younger sister Kiki calling me .. my boyfriend broke up with me unexpectedly ..I left the funeral cuz I couldn’t handle it pick me up real quick stay put I’m bout to roll up She hops in the car hand her the letter now it’s her turn to learn from daddies old dirt . She looks over and says I wanna wait till we get home. We get home tell her dry them tears pull up a chair ……… history repeats it self it’s been years ….. Once again ….. These were the life cycles pops said when u encounter young men. Dear Mya as she reads allowed. No silly you see this letter is no longer for me . Please start off with dear Kiki . ……. try again .. dear Kiki I wrote this letter long ago . I knew this day would come when u started to grow ……….

#rap

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Women In Weed: The Commune

vimeo

Women in Weed: Amy Margolis

If you have been anywhere near the cannabis world you know the name Amy Margolis. As a criminal attorney in Oregon she spent the first part of her career in the court room fighting arrests and prions time. When legalization happened, she smoothly transitioned into helping Oregonians start legitimate cannabis businesses. Leading the herd, Amy started a cannabis friendly event space called The Commune in central Portland – and a cannabis business incubator course called the Initiative. Power. Funny. Motivator. Riding high.

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Women In Weed: The Commune

Women in Weed

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Video Transcript

Penn: Welcome to Chalice Farms TV. My name is Pen Lewis…

Kiki: and I’m Kiki Sherard…

Penn: … and we’re here today to show you some of the inside practices behind the best cannabis producers in the state of Oregon. We’re here to show you some of the things that happen behind the scenes to create and cultivate craft cannabis products.

———–

Kiki: We’re here today at the Commune with Amy Margolis. Amy, thank you so much for being here with us.

Amy: Thanks for having me.

Penn: One, was law kind of always a pursuit for you and was it always kind of with cannabis in mind or were you already practicing law and thought This is a perfect environment to jump into right now. So how did that start?

Amy: So I’ve been a lawyer, this year 17 years, so it’s a long time and I started as a criminal defense lawyer. I mean, people in the cannabis industry were visionaries, right? So as the years went by, clients started to come and say I think we are going to see legalization.

Will you help us we help us start businesses? Will you help us enter (what soon became) the regulated market? Will you help us stay out of trouble? Clients transitioned from the illegal market into the legal market. I really just kind of came with them.

Kiki: Did you ever think that when you started, when you became a lawyer, that this would be where you are?

Amy: Not so long ago, the only time law enforcement would be in your grow is if they were cutting your plants down and putting you in handcuffs. So it was initially like a huge sea change, right? And it was a big emotional change. I think both for the people in the industry and for those of us supporting it. So, no, because we had no idea what was coming.

Penn: Let’s say, it was kind of, I would just have to imagine a transition more from you know, helping folks who’ve gotten into legal troubles with cannabis to more like proactive like preemptive work.

Amy: This industry requires you to be super nimble and not just for the, again, not just for the people who are actively engaged in the industry but for those of us who are supporting the industry, we have to be nimble and pivot fast, too.

Kiki: Your new pack, so let’s talk about that, like, so we’re here at the Commune. Let’s talk about this space and then go into the Initiative after that.

Amy: So the space is quite beautiful, I think.

Kiki: Very.

Amy: I’m definitely dying in an earthquake here but it is, really, it’s a price you pay for beautiful things. So when I started the Initiative, which is a business accelerator program for female founders in the cannabis industry, we knew we needed a space. It was just like the sun was, like, shining through the skylights and they were, like, rainbows shooting out of the windows but REALLY rainbows shooting out of the windows.

And it didn’t look anything like this, but we…I was like this is it. Like, it has a huge space over there, we can have events here, we can have private meetings. It’s really like just the right space. So we use it for the accelerator, we use it for events. Tonight we have “Ladies Get Paid”, we share it with nonprofits that my husband and I care about.

We constantly are trying to use it for things that we believe in. It is nice to have a place where you can come and feel like it is cannabis friendly. Where you just start recognizing here that cannabis is, for many of us, integrated into our lives. And so this is just another way to integrate it into your life.

We want this to be, particularly for women, but for everybody a place you can come and feel comfortable. Where you can feel like you’re having an experience where you feel like it’s a good place to sit and learn. And that was really important when we built it.

Kiki: And so you touched a little bit on it but, the initiative, so that’s your accelerator program. It’s focused on women entrepreneurs.

Amy: I mean, I’ve always been supporting businesses in this space. And this is just another way to support businesses in this space. It’s a little bit more teaching and a little bit less practicing and I think that’s the biggest difference. It’s that we’re doing more educating and less, you know, sitting down and drafting things and applying for licenses. But we’re also helping those women learn how to do some of that stuff themselves so they don’t need to access outside resources so heavily.

What does it mean to be a founder? What does it mean to be a leader in your business? What does it mean to be a CEO? What does it mean to be somebody who is able to go out and raise money? So in this program we’re trying to shift that. We’re trying to change things you’ve been taught.

And we’re trying to make sure that we’re giving you, and we use this phrase all the time, like, all the tools in your toolbox. And those include all the business tools. You know, we have lots of networking events. We have lots of parties, we have lots of panels but we don’t have anybody really getting down and dirty and teaching women how to succeed and then giving them access to funding.

Like we’re gonna empower you with a ton of information, right? We’re gonna help you learn all the business skills, we’re gonna help you learn all the legal pieces, we’re gonna help you understand the regulations, we’re gonna help you learn how to do all of these things. All the things you might go to a lawyer and have them do, or you might hire somebody to help you do. We want you to learn how to do those things.

Kiki: So what’s the value that women bring to businesses that men don’t?

Amy: Women bring actual value. Right, I mean we bring not just actual value because we’re, like, nice to have along but we bring real value, right? We know that hiring practices are more inclusive. We know that women run business’ who are equally situated to men are, they generate 63 percent more revenue. You have more problem-solving in the workplace when women are running it and they’re much more likely to, without quoting a statistic, turn around a business that’s failing. So, like, we succeed better than men. That’s just statistically proven.

Penn: What’s what’s next for you? Where do you see this going? Just a continual drive or…?

Amy: We feel like because we’re here that, like, the race is over right? But there’s like so many more states that are gonna come online and we’re gonna eventually, not for a long time probably, but eventually have interstate commerce. So we’re gonna have international commerce and we’re gonna have these businesses going through series of roll-ups and we’re gonna see more and more brand aggregators. I mean, we’re just at the very very very beginning. We don’t feel like that because we’re tired but, like, yeah it’s been 472 years since I started doing this and I think like we…we’re just at the beginning.

Kiki: So we ask everyone on this show what your chalice is, so Amy what’s your chalice?

Amy: I really do, right now, feel like my chalice is that I, like, get to do something that I’m proud of. Getting to do something that you like doing that is, like, a change-maker is really important. So right now that’s my chalice. In, like five years, my chalice will be laying on the beach and forgetting any of that ever happened. But for right now, it’s that I get to do something that I

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