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wildcatofgreen · 1 year

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Nobody had called her all day.

Strange. She expected at least one call.

Maybe it was just a slow day at the 'Sphere? It can happen sometimes.

Even then, it'd be nice to get a call to hang out with Sony. Take her mind off some things.

Not that she wasn't doing so with Cory--messing with her was always fun, but...

She missed him, for some reason? Maybe she just expected a call that badly.

She really shouldn't worry about it. If he didn't call, then it's all fine. No need to worry so damn much.

She waved her sister goodbye at the end of the day--Cory said she knew how to get home from the museum. She liked the walk--or, the, hovering??? Her boots were weird. And cool. She kinda wants some like her's.

She let her sister be. She needed to think a bit, anyway.

...

Could she really tell her how she feels, after all of this time? It'd be... kind of awkward, wouldn't it?

Imagine, walking up to your best friend and former crush and going ''hi i was in love with you once okay byyyyye''. That'd be stupid. It'd elicit an awkward reaction and she'd be made fun of for it for her entire life. Stones, she didn't want to go through that kind of hell.

...But What choice did she have, really? To tell Lilac how she felt, or to have these lingering feelings grow to be worse than a nuisance. Sure, she could keep it under control now, but what if Lilac came back. She knows what she said--back at the tree house? Really, Carol?

She grimaced. Stupid, stupid wildcat. Can't have her cake and eat it, too. She just can't.

Sony's the one she wants, not Lilac. If she could keep him for forevermore, then she'd be fine! Completely fine!!!

This concept just can't stay in her head though. She's always gotta be the selfish wildcat. Always gotta say and do something stupid. Always always always.

Groaned. Fucking hell, she hated this dilemma. If she was normal, if she was fine, it'd be okay! Everything would be.

But nooooo. Carol Tea can't have that, can she? There just needs to be something, huh?

Whatever.

She's gotta think of a way to tell her. Maybe sooner, rather than later? But how soon is soon, really...?

---

"Hi Carol!!!"

Why was Milla in her room? What?

Wait was that the pipsqueak??? Why the hell...

"Heeeeey, Milla," she put a hand at her hip, squinting, "Can you please tell me what the hell you're doing?"

She and the monkey were sat on her floor, piles of papers surrounding them. Lots of written ones were at their feet, too. Couldn't parse anything from the doorway, though.

"Lady Neera asked us to study your gemerald! We had to go through aaaaaaaaaaall her notes, and then make a bunch of new ones!!!"

"Freezey buddy has lots of notes about your weird gem!!! But me and bunny buddy studied ALL OF IT!!!" The monkey boy raised his hands in the air, smiling wide and proud.

Sorry, what? "Bunny buddy?" Carol was extremely unamused, and slightly confused, by the name.

"He calls me bunny buddy now!" Milla seemed excited, at least, "It's... an improvement from earbird. We're still working on other names!"

"Riiiight, okay--can you tw--"

"OH RIGHT!" The hound shot straight up, then went over to the wildcat's desk, picking up two objects. She then walked over to her wildcat friend, a bright smile on her face. She offered the two objects to Carol--one being a small communicator, designed to be placed inside of the ear of a feline. The other, the wildcat's phone. "Lilac and Sonar have been trying to contact you all day!!!" She put a hand to her chin, one of her ears raised in the air, "I wonder why."

"Oh, okay. Thank--"

LILAC????? AND SONAR???? BOTH OF THEM???? AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME??????????

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. THIS WASN'T HAPPENING. THIS GENUINELY WASN'T FUCKING HAPPENING.

SWIPE THE PHONE AND COMMUNICATOR FROM MILLA, WALK OUT OF HER OWN ROOM AND SLAM THE DOOR SHUT.

CALL SONAR, IMMEDIATELY.

Ring, ring, ring...

Ring, ring, ri--

"Carol??? Is actually you or is it Milla again--"

"It's me!!! It's me!!!!" She was fucking trembling.

"Oh thank goodness--I thought something happened to you. Zao needed you at the Battlesphere, so I went and called you like you asked, but,"

The rest of his words failed to reach her ears.

...Holy fucking stones, she left her phone this morning. After being so confident about the calling thing. Foxtrot sierra, she's gonna...

UGH! THE ONE TIME, EVERY TIME, EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME THIS SAME THING HAPPENS. STONES DAMN IT.

"Babe? You there?"

Shit, right, she was still on the phone. Complain later, Carol. This wasn't about, well, Lilac at least. She can deal with that anot--

LILAC FUCKING CALLED HER?????

"SORRY SONY, I'LL CALL YOU BACK LATER! BYE, I LOVE YOU!!!"

Click!

CALL LILAC, CALL LILAC, CALL LILAC, CALL LILAC, FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING CALL HER.

Ring, ri--

"Carol?!?!?!"

Holy shit.

Her cadence. Her tone. Her very obvious concern. She could hear it all through the telephone. She almost wanted to scream.

"L-Lilac??? That, that's you, right???"

She was still in disbelief. There was no fucking way--

"Carol!!! I'm so happy!!! I thought something happened to you, and I was really super worried, and, uh," the dragonness trailed off.

It was quiet for a moment. The wildcat eagerly awaited her friend's respo--

"Hi!!!!!"

"Hi Lilac!!!!!"

Even just hearing her voice again was music to her ears. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

"How's uh, how's the finding Merga thing, going?" She wanted to ask so many questions, so many, but she had to play it cool. Play it real cool, like she always does!

"Good! Not good, actually. I mean, seeing all the sights Avalice has to offer is really something. But I haven't found a lick of her--not yet. I might be getting close, but," she trailed off again.

Silence.

Carol swears she can hear her own heartbeat--

"SO!" She started again, laughing to try and play it off, "How is everything? How's the marriage?"

"Oh it's going gr--"

What.

"Did... What did you just say?" Trembling again. Trembling trembling trembling she did not just ask about that. Right? She misheard her, right???

"How's everything!!!!!!"

"After that!"

"How's the... m-marriage?"

Click.

How the fuck did she know about that already???

#carol's cruisings #carol's adventures #long time no see dragon girl #AAA screams #realizing that those tags are picture tags but whatever ill deal with it LATER probably #wandering dragon #grand alchemist hound

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expressandadmirable · 4 years

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Will I Find My Home? (Sol, Elerian, the Family Lux)

“I’m off,” Halei announced, slinging her pack over her shoulder as she stepped into the sitting room. “I’ll be in Norrikdown for a few days, then heading south on foot to some of the villages. I’ll circle back around and portal home when I’m done.”

Aviva hummed an acknowledgement from the sofa, palming the strings of her mandolin and looking over her shoulder at the Drow. “Did they request you in the villages, too?”

“Mmm,” Halei nodded. “Big property dispute in Fairdale and a murder case in Lionshead. Off to dispense some swift justice.”

“Hopefully there won’t be any tragically uninformed bandits this time.”

Halei chuckled, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger in exasperated amusement. “What was that, a year ago now? Gods.”

“Thereabouts.” Aviva shook her head in a shade of disbelief that bordered on admiration. “I can’t believe we actually got to say ‘Do you know who I am?’”

“They certainly learned right bloody quick.”

Aviva huffed a wry laugh. “I almost felt bad for them. Of all the people you could attempt to rob on a rural roadside, we were… probably a poor choice.”

“We delivered them to the constable, alive and conscious. Justice was served.” Leaning over the back of the sofa, Halei slid her arms around the Tiefling’s neck and gave her a squeeze. “Be good.”

“Never.” Aviva tilted her head enough to kiss Halei’s cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Releasing her wife, Halei made her way toward the door separating their quarters from the rest of the royal manor.

“Byyyyye!” Aviva sang. “Make Tyr proud!”

“That’s blasphemyyyyy!” Halei replied in similar sing-song as she disappeared into the hall, closing the door behind her.

“Is it blasphemy if we created the Gods?” Aviva wondered aloud, mostly to herself, though the cat at her side responded with a disinterested yawn.

The comment was flip, but once again it got her thinking. There were parts about her place in the grand design of the universe that she knew her mortal mind would never comprehend. She had met Bahamut, the great God of the Dragonborn, and at that meeting he had helped reveal the Heroes of Light’s true origins. She was Flame, the very concept personified, ancient and eternal. They had made and remade existence itself. She was the Mother of the World. Yet Halei still called upon Tyr for strength in battle, and Aviva said nightly prayers to Selen just as she had as a child. It was a discrepancy she could never parse.

With a great sigh, Aviva set her mandolin aside and stroked the soft fur behind Demon’s shoulder blades. “I tried to philosophise before lunch again. I told you to stop me next time I did that. Halei’s not even been gone five minutes.”

Demon of the Abyssal Reach purred.

II.

The roses needed trimming, as did the taller topiaries to the west of the manor. They had needed tending for days, but Elerian insisted on doing the work himself, and so they waited. Celestine had long since given up trying to hire gardeners for the detail work; instead, groundskeepers merely did the daily weeding and watering, allowing the Seer to execute his vision for the rest of the gardens. For this understanding, he was eternally grateful.

Elerian inhaled deeply, the scent of the roses filling the garden around him. It felt like weeks since he had last been able to walk the grounds -- in fact, given his endless list of official tasks, it may very well have been. Slipping the clippers from his belt, he considered the overgrown bush.

As if on cue, the gentle tones of a violin floated toward him from somewhere above the manor. It had taken a few months of residency, but Aviva had discovered several ways to access the roof, and as always, it had become her preferred place to take time for herself. She had eventually requested a trellis be installed outside the windows of their quarters, for well-decorated ease of access. It was then, he had noticed, that she seemed truly and completely at home.

She was working on a new piece, or so it sounded. The music paused every so often, picking up a few bars earlier and continuing until another pause. It matched the mood of the wind, of the warm, white clouds obscuring the sun but never threatening rain. It was the melodic embodiment of a peaceful afternoon, the perfect accompaniment to his task.

Music was Aviva’s true language, the lens through which she interpreted and understood the world. It was one of many things he admired about her.

Elerian smiled. He needed to levitate to reach the tops of the topiaries; when the shaping was done, perhaps he would visit her in her rooftop sanctuary. For the moment, he was content to listen.

III.

“Oh no!” came the wail from the sofa.

Halei stopped cold, the knife she had been using to cut the vegetables for dinner hanging in midair. “What?!”

“I’m too pregnant to play the lute!”

“...What?”

Incredulously, Halei approached. Aviva looked up at her in comical despair, trying in vain to press the rounded body of the lute against her equally round belly. “There’s just too much baby!!”

Suppressing a laugh, Halei ruffled the Tiefling’s hair. “I’ll go get your guitar.”

Aviva smiled. While her misery was (somewhat) feigned, her adoration was not. “You are a goddess.”

“I know.”

IV.

“Headed to bed early; exhausted. Pregnancy still sucks. She kicked today, though. Morgan says hi, hopes to see you. Miss you terribly. Love you endlessly.”

Halei smiled. “Miss you too,” she murmured, the magic of the Sending spell transporting her words all the way back to Aelfheim. “Nearly finished here. Verdict, then home. Tell Morgan I’ll bring pastries. Keep the hearth going and the bed warm. I love you.”

“Nope, sorry darlings.” Mae shook her head as she stood in the doorway to the bedroom, blocking the Elves’ entry with folded arms. From behind her, a string of curses in a variety of languages landed in the sitting room like arrows embedding into a target. “You are not playing this round. Not you--” she pointed to Halei, “and definitely not you.” Her gaze shifted to Elerian.

Startled, the two Elves began to protest, but Mae held up a tattooed palm. “The kid said no, so the answer is no. You can stay out here and if she changes her mind, I’ll have Su come get ya.”

The Elves admitted their defeat with a grumble. They would respect Aviva’s wishes, as much as it unsettled them to do so. “If I may enquire, why ‘definitely not me’?” Elerian ventured, eyebrows raised in stark confusion.

Mae raised a brow in return, her illustrated tail swishing lazily as she leaned against the doorframe. “Because, your royal highness, the situation in there is pretty definitively your fault, and the kid is about to say some things that under normal circumstances would get her done for treason. Best not to put yourself in the line of fire unless she asks.”

“...Fair enough.”

An agonised scream ripped through the sitting room. Halei tensed, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “Brings back bad memories,” she muttered.

For the first time since she’d arrived, Mae softened, messy bun of greying dark hair bobbing as she nodded. “I know. You’ve been through a lot with her. But she’s strong, and once this is over, there’ll be a brand new generation of Lux for you to meet.” She smiled. “She’ll be okay. Trust me.”

“Mari?” came Esperance’s voice from somewhere within the bedroom. “Mari??”

“That’s my cue.” Mae pushed off from the doorframe and straightened. “Fortify, you two. You’re not the ones pushing out a baby!” With that, she turned on her heel and closed the bedroom door.

Halei glanced at Elerian. “I still can’t get over the fact that V’s tattooist is also a midwife.”

“The two are not so dissimilar,” Elerian answered. “There are many many ways to guide someone through pain.”

After a moment of contemplation, Halei shrugged. “Spiritual people are weird.”

With a snort of laughter, Elerian shook his head at the Drow. “You are a terrible paladin.”

VI.

Exhausted beyond words, Aviva held the warm little bundle to her chest, smiling sleepily as Halei and Elerian gathered around her.

“Ada, Nana,” she addressed them in murmured Elvish, “this is Zahira.”

VII.

Celestine glanced at the ornate Gnomish clock on the wall of her office. She had woken at Elerian’s side, had seen him at breakfast, had reminded him of the items on the day’s docket. He had attended the morning’s meeting and completed the first half of the to-do list, then sequestered himself to rewrite a speech and promised to join her again at half past three. As the hands of the clock neared four, Celestine stood. Elerian the Seer was not one to miss an appointment.

Making her way through the busy kitchen and up the manor’s back stairs to the domestic floors, Celestine checked Elerian’s bedchamber, then the study. The speech sat mostly revised on his desk, which was a relief, but its writer was still nowhere to be found. She stepped back into the hall, looking this way and that, her hands on her hips and a confused frown on her face. The manor was large, but it was not that large.

“Celes?”

Rounding a corner, Astos canted his head, dark hair freeing itself from behind one long ear. “You look as if you’ve lost something,” he noted as he approached.

“Our husband,” she responded with a sigh. “We have to finish the plans for next week’s reception and he was supposed to meet me half an hour ago. Have you seen him?”

Astos shook his head. “I’ve not. But if I had to wager, he’s probably with the girls.”

“I don’t believe I’ll take that wager.” Celestine’s smile began wryly, but quickly softened. “I’ll check their quarters. We’re lucky the baby can’t get that far yet, or I’d never find him again.” With a wave, she left Astos to chuckle to himself as she turned down the next hallway.

Reaching Aviva and Haluei’en’s door, she knocked politely. They had given her free reign to enter unannounced long ago, but she preferred an invitation when possible. “Aviva?” No answer. “It’s Celestine. Is Elerian with you?” Silence. “Aviva? Haluei’en?” After one final pause, Celestine pushed open the door and poked her head inside.

Haluei’en sat slouched on the sofa, her head tipped back against the pillows. Aviva lay on her belly with her head in the Drow’s lap, stretched longways across the seat cushions, one arm dangling over the side and brushing the floor. Elerian rested on the floor with his back against the sofa, nearly mirroring Haluei’en but for using Aviva’s hip as a pillow; cradled in his lap lay baby Zahira. All four of them, Celestine realised, were sound asleep.

From atop one of the back pillows, Demon opened her amber eyes and blinked. Celestine nodded at her. “You’re right,” she whispered. “It can wait. I’ll come back later.”

Demon closed her eyes.

VIII.

Blinking away the fog of sleep that momentarily washed over her, Aviva stifled a yawn. Well aware of their vital importance, she could not help but find Elvish ambassadorial meetings to be monstrously tedious and often irritating affairs. Despite Elerian’s marriage to the leader of the Wood Elves and his close working relationship with the new Archmagistrix of the Drow, there was always some petty squabble or long-held grudge from the lower ranks delaying and complicating negotiations. Even Halei’s presence as a neutral Arbiter could do little to keep the table of testy Elves on track. For her part, Aviva represented the Tieflings and other marginalised communities within each of the Elven nations, interjecting on their behalf when necessary and advocating for them to receive the help they needed. Of course, given the pace of the talks, she suspected she would not need to speak up until next week at the earliest.

Zahira stirred in her arms. Tiny golden eyes blinked up at her, framed by an expression of mild confusion that never failed to make her smile. “Hi baby,” she whispered, gently running her fingers across her daughter’s cheek and through her white-blonde hair. Zahira fussed in response, freeing a hand from her blanket and grabbing at the low neckline of Aviva’s tunic. “Hungry again? Okay, okay, hold on.” As a Wood Elven administrator droned on from across the table, Aviva loosened the ties of her tunic, unwrapping one side and shifting the girl into position.

“Excuse me!” barked a voice, cutting off the Wood Elf mid-stream. Looking up to see what had caused such an outburst, Aviva realised the voice belonged to Elerian’s most obstinately old-fashioned advisor, and that he was looking at her as if he had just stepped in something unsavoury. “That is most indecent!” he continued in Elvish. “Revealing, flaunting herself in the middle of an official conference! It’s not proper!” He shifted in his chair to address Elerian. “My Prince, I request she be removed at once.”

Before Elerian could respond, Aviva cocked her head. “I am feeding my child, my lord,” she explained in measured, fluent Elvish. “It is both natural and a necessity, so if there is a law against it, I pray you show it to me. Or perhaps you are cranky because you are hungry too?” She gestured to her chest. “I do have another breast if you need a snack to quell your tantrum.”

A ripple of laughter spread across the table, punctuated by Halei’s sharp snort. Elerian tried valiantly to keep his expression neutral, but the pride in his eyes betrayed him. The advisor’s face reddened and he spluttered a few times before sinking back into his chair, duly cowed.

Elerian spread his hands. “My apologies for the interruption. Please continue, Ambassador.”

From the far end of the table, Halei caught Aviva’s eye, a psychic ‘I love you’ passing through the Tiefling’s head. She gave Halei a wink.

IX.

“Tea?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Esperance smiled at her daughter, sitting at the kitchen table as if she’d never left, then at her granddaughter, amusing herself with wooden blocks at Aviva’s feet. “Warm milk for the baby?”

“Nah, she’ll have her lunch in a bit. I grabbed some jars of food before we left.” Aviva patted the pack occupying the chair next to her. “I almost miss when I was the only source of food. Much easier to carry.”

“But soon you’ll be able to start cooking with her.” Esperance set two mugs of tea on the table before easing into the closest chair. “And start baking.”

Aviva grinned. “Few more years before we get to that. Things take for-fucking-ever for Half-Elves.” Raising a defiant eyebrow at Esperance’s reproachful look, she sipped her tea. “Did you finally get Pippa to start baking?”

“Nearly,” Esperance answered with a smile that took years from her face. “She managed not to burn the house down. We’re working on it.”

“I’m glad you two got together.” Aviva leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table. “You deserve to be happy.”

Esperance flushed girlishly, gold eyes fixed on the steaming swirls of her tea. “She’s a good woman. I thought it would be strange, such an old friend of your father’s… But it helps that she knew him. That she still misses him sometimes too.” She met Aviva’s gaze. “He would be so, so proud of you. Your music, your family, your friends, your work. The world we know is because of you. Because of your capacity to love and believe, despite everything. He would be… at least half as proud as me.”

It was Aviva’s turn to flush. She looked at her daughter, who bore her father’s name, then at her mother. “I wouldn’t be me without you, Mama.” She reached a hand across the table, finding Esperance’s fingers and lacing them tightly with hers. “Thank you.”

“Mama? Nana?”

Aviva rolled toward Zahira’s voice, bleary-eyed. “What is it, baby?”

“I had a bad dream.” The girl’s voice was muffled behind the plush dragon she held tightly to her chest. “Can I come sleep with you?”

“Of course, my love.”

“And Maergrahn III?”

“Always.”

Before Aviva could shift her weight, Halei had already risen, stepping around the edge of the bed and and scooping Zahira into her arms. Planting a kiss on her cheek, the Drow set her daughter beside her wife and crawled back under the covers. “There we go, love. Have a lie down and your mama and I will make it go away.”

With a small nod, Zahira shimmied beneath the blanket until she could rest her head on the pillows. Propping herself up on one elbow, Aviva kissed the girl, then the stuffed dragon, then kissed the fingers of her other hand and tapped them to Halei’s shoulder. Settling back down, each mother wrapped an arm around Zahira and closed her eyes.

XI.

“Good,” Aviva nodded. “Very good. How did that feel?”

Lowering his bow, Ofer kept his back straight, violin tucked against his chin as he went over the piece in his head. “I’m still having trouble with the third movement.”

“You are, but it was the best you’ve done so far. Remember to hold on to that when you start to get frustrated. Your head knows how to play it. Your hands just need a little more time to get there.”

“Yes, Lady V,” the young Tiefling recited. Aviva could not help but smile. ‘Lady V’ was the compromise she and the boy had come to, delicately balancing his wide-eyed deference to the Hero of Light and Prince’s paramour with her personal discomfort at having so many damned titles. It did occasionally cross her mind that ‘Lady Lux’ would have had more of a ring to it, but what had once been armour had long ago returned to its rightful place as a family surname. ‘Lady Aviva’ was her name at formal ceremonies and on official papers, so ‘Lady V’ was the best she could get from Ofer.

“Do you want to run through it again, or work on your other piece?” Aviva waited; when the boy did not respond, she cocked her head. “Ofer?”

Ofer blinked. “Yeah. Sorry, Lady V. I was…” He shrugged. “I dunno.”

Aviva settled into one of the plush high-backed chairs dotting the manor’s drawing room, watching Ofer’s face. “What’s up, sweet pea? Something’s been on your mind all day, I can tell.” Ofer nodded sheepishly, his shoulders slumping. Aviva smiled. “Then let’s rest for a minute and you can tell me about it.”

“Okay.” With a sigh, Ofer set his violin and bow in the open case at his feet. “My parents… Ever since I got my own room, they make me sleep with the door open. So they can check on me during the night. And last night, I woke up, and I saw my mum at the door, and… I dunno, I just got mad. I got out of bed and I told her to go away and I slammed the door.” He looked at Aviva helplessly. “She didn’t say anything this morning, but I could tell she was sad. I don’t even know why I got mad. She's just so nervous all the time. If I'm not where she expects me to be, she panics, and then dad gets mad, and I just… I don't understand.”

Aviva listened, and when the boy had finished, she nodded. “That's a lot. It's okay to be frustrated.” Ofer started. “It is. My mother used to be like that when I was little, and it was hard. I can get like that sometimes too, and it's hard on Zahira.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “How much have your parents told you about the Calling?” Even after all these years, the word still sent a chill down her spine.

"Not a lot.” Ofer gave a small shrug. “It was scary, and it's why they have scars and why dad has a glass eye. And that you saved them.”

“Not just me. They were strong. They let me help them.” Aviva took a deep breath. “The Calling is a wound, a trauma our people are still recovering from. For many of us, it was the worst in a long line of bad things. There was a time when we thought there wouldn't be any of us left.” A sad smile flitted across her face. “I still get nightmares about it sometimes.”

“You do??” Ofer stared at her, his eyes as large as saucers.

Aviva chuckled softly. “Is it so hard to believe? I get scared too. And when I wake up, it can take some time to reassure myself the nightmare wasn't real. I can talk to my wife or to the Prince, but sometimes I go to Zahira's room and look in on her. Make sure she's still there.” She took one of Ofer's hands in her own. “Our people have lost a lot. Things are better now, but it's hard not to worry about the people and things we love. We want to keep them safe, and sometimes we show that in confusing or unhelpful ways. Your parents mean well; their hearts are in the right place.”

“So what do I do?”

“Talk to them. Explain how they're making you feel. They may mean well, but your feelings are valid, too. Talk to them about what they went through, how it’s still affecting them, and how that’s affecting you. They may not be ready to talk about everything just yet, but you can start the conversation and go from there.” She squeezed the boy’s hand. “What’s most important is that they love you. So, so much.” Tilting her head, she smiled. “Okay?”

Ofer nodded, and smiled in return. “Okay.”

“Okay. Want to take another crack at the third movement?”

“Okay!”

XII.

Aviva loved the light in Elerian’s bedchamber. The delicate curtains drawn across the windows and pinned over the skylights diffused the afternoon sun, scattering and softening the rays into a meditative glow. By contrast, the rich damask canopy of the four-poster bed kept sleepers in the embrace of darkness even at midday. It was a humble place, at least relative to his station; while the public spaces in the manor were for show, the bedchamber was for him alone.

“Reminiscing?”

From her position against the doorframe, Aviva looked over her shoulder, smiling as Elerian approached. “El’an,” she greeted him. “I suppose I was. The first time I saw you, you were asleep in that bed.” She smirked. “A pale little thing, you were. Caused us all quite a bit of stress.”

Elerian laughed lightly, resting a hand on the Tiefling’s hip. “A most wretched sight, to be certain. I imagine I was the very picture of Elven frailty, was I not?”

With a grin, Aviva looped her arms around his neck. “Luckily for us, you’re sturdier than you look.”

“Waiting for you and your Heroic kin gave me the strength to carry on,” Elerian responded with utter sincerity, then broke into a chuckle at Aviva’s raised eyebrow. “I knew you would come. I had seen it many times before. The only information I lacked was who you would be when you arrived.”

“Do you miss it? Being able to See?”

Elerian considered that for a moment. “There are times that throw into sharp relief just how much I relied upon it. When the chapters of one’s life have been laid out for them from their first breath, stepping onto the unknown page is daunting, to say the least.” He slid both hands around her waist, drawing her close, and she lowered her forehead to rest against his. “Which is why I shall forever thank my good fortune that you are one of the writers of these pages.”

After all these years, he could still make her blush. “Gi melin, elrandir.” I love you, star-wanderer.

“Gi melin, feanare.” Spirit of Flame.

XIII.

“There’s my wife!”

Setting her pack down by the door, Halei stepped into Aviva’s waiting arms, burying her face in the Tiefling’s neck. “Hello you.”

“Hi sunshine. Welcome back.” Aviva rested her cheek against Halei’s head. “You hungry?”

“Starving.” Lifting her head, Halei nodded over Aviva’s shoulder to the large basket sitting on the dining table. “Is that what that’s for?”

“It most certainly is.” Aviva released the Drow, who knelt to greet Ladybug of the Line of Demon as she trotted in from the kitchen. “I was away, then you were away; it feels like we haven’t eaten together in ages. El’an has the baby tonight, so I thought we might have a walk in the garden. What do you think?”

Halei smiled. “Nothing would please me more. Let me get my armour off and we can go.”

“Sure. I’ll finish packing.” Aviva paused, then smiled, remembering the first time they had taken a dinner basket into the manor garden. “Wear something soft.”

On her way to the armoury closet, Halei stopped, looking back at Aviva with a knowing smile. “It’s a date.”

XIV.

“Still with me, kid?”

Aviva let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a purr. Mae laughed. “Good. Almost done. Time to come back to reality.”

“I’m here.” Aviva was no stranger to trancing out during tattoo sessions, breathing deeply and evenly as her mind wandered far from where she sat, topless and backwards on a chair in Mae’s tent in Corneria City. “Perfect timing, I was just thinking I needed to pee.”

Mae snorted and good-naturedly muttered for her client to shut up. A few minutes later, she lowered her needles. “There. You want to see it, or do you want to pee first?”

Aviva tried to shoot a withering look over her shoulder, but it quickly melted into a smile. “Let’s see it.”

With a nod, Mae slid a large mirror from beneath the low table at her side and held it in front of her. After cracking her neck and gingerly rolling her shoulders, Aviva peeked at the image freshly decorating her back. A sun, a moon and a star danced across her shoulder blades, connected by subtle, flowing lines that called to mind the night sky, or streaks of flame. She exhaled slowly. “It’s perfect.”

“Of course it is,” Mae scoffed, but her grin was genuine. “Now let’s get you wrapped and get you home.” As she stood to move the mirror and retrieve the oils and bandages, she leaned down to kiss one of Aviva’s horns. “Happy birthday, kid.”

XV.

For all the thrilling adventures she had experienced in her life, there was nothing quite like an audience’s applause. And oh, did they love the Hearthmother.

Aviva grinned, radiant, and dipped into a sweeping bow, the teal-emerald-indigo fabric of her gown shimmering like sunlit ocean water as she moved. She gestured to her side, introducing her friend and collaborator Rhos Liadon to the approving roar of the crowd. Caught somewhere between terror and elation at the sheer size of the Aelfheim concert hall, the Half-Orc sketched a somewhat less fluid bow, then wrapped Aviva in a crushing hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. Stepping back, they selected their preferred instruments from the collection behind them -- they planned to play a great variety of music tonight -- and with a shared wink, they began.

A reel. A waltz. A ballad. A Cornerian folk song, sung in round. A duet of piano and cello. Solo violin. A raga. A chiftitelli. A chaconne. An Elvish sonatina. Lute and illusory drums. Mandolin. Paired voices, a symphony of two. The bards had travelled across the world and back, and they brought all their knowledge and experience to bear in pursuit of musical perfection. They had planned a concert unlike any other, and they would not disappoint.

Finally, Rhos slung a banjo about his shoulders while Aviva tuned her guitar. He told the sea of excited faces that they had written a song together, and asked with a cheeky smirk if they would like to hear it. The response was deafening. Once the cheers had faded, Aviva conjured a set of keys before them, coaxing a gentle melody from the air. Their voices started softly, as did their strings, gradually building until suddenly they burst into an exuberant chorus. The lyrics wondered if they would find their home, even as the notes told them of course they would. A question answered with perfect surety. They knew where home was.

Even through the brightness of the lights, Aviva could see the little boxes built into the sides of the concert hall. Less ostentatious, comparatively, than other theatrical architecture, they sat nearly flush with the wall, providing a clear view of the stage without obstructing other patrons. Ensconced in the furthest box, she might not have seen the occupants at all, had she not known precisely where to look.

Elerian’s head was nodding in time with the music; Haluei’en was bouncing Zahira on her knee. In the box below them, Morgan chatted animatedly with Esperance, tapping her fingers on the ornate wooden railing. Maergrahn danced nimbly about behind them, perfectly content to filter the music into his own little world. Wilhelm, in a rare appearance outside his tower, sat rapt, as if trying to take in every detail of the performance. Zahira noticed her mama glancing in their direction and waved her hands, turning to say something to Halei before resuming her wave. As the song ended, Aviva blew the girl a kiss.

Rhos took her hand and gave her a spin. They laughed, and bowed. Her heart soared.

My home in you.

(Art by @sbeep, @aguydrawsgames and @kimbles)

Endless gratitude and love to SB for playing Sol and for telling this beautiful story with me (and for trusting me to go nuts with the epilogue, and for the exquisite art). Even more gratitude and love to @stonegolem for creating this wonderful story and expansive world for us all to muck about in, as well as playing Elerian and rolling with my schmaltzy story ideas. I’m gonna miss telling this story, but I’m so, so glad it’s been told.

#Dungeons and Dragons #Original Characters #Canon #Aviva Lux #Epilogue #Title: Juniper Vale #Tiefling #Drow #High Elf #Half-Orc

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minhoinator · 6 years

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Hello lets yell about minho together!!!!! I saw your hogwarts moodboards on my dash, im in love!!! How are you doIng? Do u have hogwarts hcs for the boys?

Hi! I’m doing fantastic, hbu? I’m glad you liked the Hogwarts mbs because I really enjoyed making them

As for whether I have Hogwarts hcs for the boys…..do I ever lol so much so that I’m currently writing a looong chaptered fic for it. It’s called By My Side (link if you’re on mobile, or here if you’d prefer to read it on AO3) and it’s Minkey focused. I’ve written 5 chapters so far, but am currently on a minor hiatus due to the fact that I need to plan for the story instead of writing it by the seat of my pants like I have been lol

I won’t talk about Min/Key hcs because that’d be BMS spoilers, but here’s some for the others:

Jinki/Gryffindor

– I'm very set on him being in Gryffindor. Like, no ifs ands or buts about it.

– probably plays Quidditch...the keeper, I’d say

-- his favorite class is History of Magic because he can either nap if he needs to or work on homework for the other classes while the ghost teacher (I’m blanking on his name atm) drones on

-- a huuuge fan of the meals because like, the plates?? keep refilling themselves??? what is this sorcery?? (actual sorcery, but he enjoys the exasperated looks he gets whenever he attempts that joke)

-- tbh? I feel like he’d be a half-blood, with one of his parents being a Muggle and the other a wizard

Jonghyun/Ravenclaw

– admittedly, I could see him in Hufflepuff? But I personally feel like Ravenclaw is the best option for him.

– says his favorite class is Transfiguration, but it’s actually Divination

-- was personally scouted by Flitwick to join the choir, which he readily accepted (though he’s a little bummed that he never gets to hold the frogs during performances)

-- never actually studies unless Taemin is in the mood to. He’s also not too concerned about his grades. Tbh, he’d rather spend his time writing.

-- most often, though, he finds himself dragged along by Jinki and Taemin to explore the far reaches of Hogwarts (especially the restricted sections)

Taemin/Slytherin

– he’s so Slytherin like…….omg…there is literally no other House for him

– his favorite class is without a doubt Charms

-- always finds a way to make Jinki tell him the Gryffindor Tower password (thankfully, the Painted Lady and him are on good terms)

-- actually, he gets along with all the paintings at eye/talking level...his favorite, unsurprisingly, is Sir Cadogan

-- favorite place to hang out with Jonghyun is at the library because he will quietly poke fun at him until Jonghyun reacts and then gets shushed by the librarian

if you want my Minkey headcanons then just read By My side lol wut byyyyye

#*ding* you've got mail!#sabakunocasali #hogwarts!minkey au #listen....I could talk forever and ever about Minkey at Hogwarts but I don't want to give away spoilers #so that's why I didn't talk about them at all lol #also...no one asked but I'm a proud Ravenclaw lmao #don't mind my shameless self promo for BMS lmao

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3one3 · 6 years

Text

The Sequel - 889

Eden Hazard Can Really Hurt You

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Do you know why Eden is asking Schü if you’re back with Lex?”

“Does anyone know why Eden does things?”

“Well did you mention her, or see her or something?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Yes. You sound like a paranoid and untrusting girlfriend right now. Why?”

“I’m not. It’s just weird. Why would he ask him about it out of the blue?”

“I don’t know. Ask Eden.”

“K”

“Why do you care why he asked if I’m telling you it’s not true?”

“I don’t.”

“Sure.”

“Are you seeing someone else, other than Lex?”

“No. You don’t trust me?”

“Of course I do, but I’ve told you so many times that you can do whatever you want, so...It wouldn’t be like you were doing something wrong.”

“And I’ve told you I don’t want anyone else.”

“Ok. I’m sorry. It was just weird.”

“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” André asked his forlorn looking wife after he let the dogs out. She looked all distant and vaguely upset again on the couch, like earlier in the barn. He lifted up her blanket to get back under it.

“Nothing. Can you just- Can you ask Eden why he was asking you about Juan and Lex?” Christina grimaced. “I know you don’t wanna hear that I’m now obsessing over that, but I have to be honest, and-“

“It’s okay.” He inhaled deeply through his nose, which made a rather loud sound. “We can talk about anything. Always. He didn’t really ask me about him and Lex. He asked me if I recognized some girl Juan talked to at a club last night, and then mentioned that he thought he was back with Lex before.”

“Oh.” Christina’s face fell, and she looked even more forlorn than before. I don’t know who I’m more disappointed in right now. Juan might be hiding something, maybe, and this one could have told me this bit of information that he knows I am definitely interested in.

“Okay, before you get all upset with everyone, consider the source,” the footballer warned encouragingly. He put his arm around her head and kissed her temple with the side of his mouth. “Eden never knows what he’s talking about, and guys talk to girls in nightclubs. It just happens. Especially when you’re the only single guy there. Girls come up to you and they’re all sweet, or seductive, or fawning for you. You can’t get upset because Juan conversed with a woman, and you can’t be mad at me for not telling you that Juan did something you can’t get upset about.”

“But-“

“But it hurts you when someone who says you’re special so much as acknowledges the existence of another woman- got it.” André nodded and squeezed her head tighter. This is a bizarre thing. I’m here consoling her like her gay best friend, because she’s brokenhearted over another guy. How did our lives get like this?

“I just- I need to go make a phone call...”

“Yeah. Of course. Tell him I said hi.”

Christina gave him an apologetic peck on the cheek as soon as she was released from the headlock, and then hurried down the hall to the study as fast as her ouchy ankle would take her. She dialed Juan as soon as her butt hit the window seat cushion.

“Yeees?” the Spaniard sighed over the line, clearly having expected her call.

“Don’t get mad at me. I’m not doubting you. I just need an explanation.”

“I can’t explain another person’s ac-“

“Not for Eden. He asked Schü about the girl you were talking to at whatever club you all went to last night. He just mentioned the Lex thing for context, I guess.”

“And you want to know who the girl is.”

“Yes. And if you took her home with you and if she now knows your tongue is as good as your left foot.” Christina cracked jokes when she was nervous. Christina cracked jokes when she thought humor could get her out of trouble. Christina thought her best friend was rightfully going to be furious with her for asking those questions.

“Her name is Jenni, she did not come home with me, and I have no idea how she feels about my tongue. I can tell you I don’t feel good about you losing your mind because you heard I spoke to a girl.” Juan’s response was measured. It was angry, and impatient for sure, but measured. He didn’t lash out, or sigh, or make disgusted sounds. He also didn’t go on to lecture her about what her reaction said about their relationship. He just left it hanging there. She almost couldn’t help herself. She had to dig her hole deeper.

“Did you want her to go home with you? Do you like her?”

“Chris!”

“I’m sorry,” she groaned. Spencer noticed her in the window and was hopping around on the patio on just the other side of the flowerbed under it, trying to get her attention. It wasn’t working. Her mind was fixed on something else, immovably. “I’m jealous. Okay? I’m jealous. I love you and you’re mine and no matter how many times I say you can go fall in love with someone else I obviously don’t want you to do that ever. I’m sorry. I’m a terrible person. I’m the worst. I’m insanely jealous. I’m also so mad at him for not telling me this, and at the same time I feel terrible for letting him see how jealous I am because somebody else talked to a girl. Ugh. I am the worst.”

“Are you drunk?”

“High, I think. I took one of the prescription pain meds for my ankle.”

“Ahhhhhh. That explains it,” the Chelsea man said with an audible smile on the end of his sigh. Christina didn’t know if he was amused by her inability to tolerate serious drugs or by her serious jealousy.

“It still hurts. And I decided to retire Nicky Tater Tots in March. And Dortmund is awful- the team I mean, not the city. Everything sucks and you shouldn’t talk to girls.”

“He told me he wasn’t going to let you take those things anymore.”

“Pharma Schü only dispenses them in extreme circumstances.”

“He shouldn’t give them to you at all.”

“I’m just being silly because I was, like, panicked.” Well this is embarrassing. I tried to cover up the anxiety attack over him flirting with someone and now he thinks I’m under the influence. Great.

“Okay,” Juan yawned.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching television.”

“I showed Lukas the Marvel dog costumes you sent me and he wants Spencer and Lucky to go to the Halloween party with him as Iron Man and Captain America. I had to pay like a gagillion Euros to have them shipped second-day.”

“What is he going to be?”

“I talked him into being a baby dragon. He likes the little wings. I think he thinks it’s actually a dinosaur costume, but whatever.”

“Did you decide which season Daenerys you want to be?”

“Season 7, badass Daenerys with the pointy shoulders and black outfit. I tried to convince Schü to be Jamie Lannister but he wasn’t having it. He’s with the team for Halloween anyway.”

“Did you end up buying the expensive wig?”

“Yes. I’m going to bring it to Doha with me and we’re gonna role-play,” Christina teased, finally feeling like the tension was gone from the conversation. Her friend’s voice was back to normal, without lingering traces of irritation, and she felt less anxious too. They’d been discussing Halloween costumes for a week because he saw a kid on the street in London in really realistic, correct Scuderia Ferrari overalls just like Sebastian and Kimi’s and then went on an Internet hunt to find the suit and suggest it to Christina for Lukas, to go with his battery powered Ferrari. He couldn’t find the exact suit, but he did stumble across the dog costumes, advertised on some pups that looked just like Spencer and Lucky, so he sent those to her just for fun. She wanted Spencer, Lucky, and Lukas to be her three baby dragons, since she was going to be Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons. The two-thirds of the family was going to a community party and trick-or-treating thing in Marco’s neighborhood. A bunch of André’s other teammates lived there too.

“I’m never fucking you in a wig.”

“Party pooper.”

“Can I go now?”

“Yes. Sorry about before.”

“Goodnight, cariña. Te quiero.”

“Love you too. Byyyyye.”

Christina returned to the couch. André asked her if everything was as it should be. She said it was. He then asked her to let the dogs back in. She did. Then she announced that she was actually going to bed, and he waffled on what to do in response. His first instinct was to talk to Juan and find out what the deal was. She didn’t actually mention what was said about the Jenni girl, or Juan’s conduct, or how she felt about it. In retrospect, asking her if everything was as it “should be” was a foolish question. Christina could have been literally truthful in her answer and theoretically lying. She might have thought the Spaniard should be able to flirt with other girls, or hook up with them, or even begin a relationship, so if he did any of that then it was appropriate for her to answer “yes” even if she were hugely upset about it and didn’t want him to do any of those things. The player wished he’d just asked her how she felt about whatever was discussed on the phone. He thought of following her to bed and just being extra nice to her in case she was upset, or in case she could be indirectly persuaded to explain the situation. He also thought of just giving her space. Her ankle hurt a lot, she had a busy day, the decision to begin planning Nick’s retirement was an immense weight on her, and she’d been running around trying to keep everyone in the family happy despite things like fish deaths, criminally inept football, unwelcome transfer rumors, a brother’s refusal to commit to a visit, and in-laws who wanted to spend more time with their grandson. In the end, he didn’t really choose. He simply stopped trying to decide, and stayed in the living room.

Christina couldn’t sleep. She wanted to text Juan, not about anything specific, just to chat, but she got a “leave me alone” vibe from him on the phone before. Like her, he needed alone time to do nothing too, and he was historically very turned off by her interrogations and distrust, so she didn’t want to dig her hole any deeper with him. She tried browsing Instagram, playing games on her phone, reading, TV, and even masturbating, which she couldn’t get into. Nothing put her to sleep. The rider gave up and texted her husband downstairs to see if he was coming to bed soon. Rather than write her back, he put the house to sleep and went up to talk face to face.

“Were you waiting for me?” he questioned with his typical look of mild confusion. “Was I supposed to come soon?” Christina shook her head on her pillow. It was all he could see of her, but it was evident from the state of all the other pillows and much of the blanket that she hadn’t been sleeping for the hour or so since she said goodnight.

“I can’t sleep,” his girl frowned.

“Juan?”

“Not really.”

“Nick?”

“Not really.”

“Aidan?”

“Okay you’re making it sound like I’m having relationships with a lot of dudes, boyfriend.”

“One is a horse and one is your brother!” André laughed a little, reassured that he didn’t mess up or miss a cue in not initially following her to bed earlier. He ambled over to her side of the mattress and sat on the edge to give her a kiss once she turned over. “Why can’t you sleep, Prinzessin?” he asked in his Sweet Husband voice.

“I don’t know. I tried everything. I even tried my fingers but my vagina is like a desert right now.” Christina tried out Poor Wife, but was hit with a pang of guilt the second she successfully beamed misery from her eyes. “Are you upset that I cared if Juan talked to a girl? I was really inconsiderate of how you’d feel about that.”

“No. I expect as much. I don’t think I’d be okay with your relationship with him if you didn’t care enough about him to have that reaction. I mean, it’s not pleasant for me, but it’s not a big deal. Don’t let that keep you up,” the player stressed with brows pinched for emphasis. His hand rubbing her hip over the comforter felt honest. It wasn’t an empty gesture. I’m grateful that we’re back to where I can tell he’s being real with me just from the weight of his palm, she reflected. We used to talk at each other and step on each other and just keep getting it so fucking wrong. It was like we spoke different languages and knew nothing of each other’s body language either. “Is it that situation that’s keeping you up? You can say,” André added encouragingly. He wasn’t so sure of his ability to hear and read her. “I don’t want him to do things that hurt or upset you either, believe it or not.”

“I believe it, actually.” A little grin made her face look a lot less unhappy and plagued to him. “Are you ready for sleepy time or are you just visiting?”

“Depends. Are you inviting me into the bed to hydrate your desert vagina or-“

“No I just think I have a better chance of falling asleep on you than by myself.”

“Can I brush my teeth and everything or is this an emergency?”

“You may,” Christina nodded. He’s so sweet. Sometimes he gives me those awkward I-wish-he-could-be-my-dad feels I don’t know how to address. Sometimes he takes care of me and he has the loving, dad-like quality in his voice, and in his face too, even. I guess what you do when a guy gives you dad feels is have a kid with him so that you can see him behave like a dad but you can still sleep with him and stuff. Ugh maybe Juanin is right. I shouldn’t take those painkillers. She reached down to rectify a wedgie situation and then waited for her preferred pillow to use the bathroom, brush his teeth, put his shorts and socks away, plug in his phone, fill his water glass, and fluff his regular pillows, which she’d repurposed for herself during her struggles to get to dreamland. He got under the covers and immediately reached over to hug and squeeze her before he was going to get comfortable and prepared to host her in a snuggling capacity.

“You want talking, or just rubbing and petting? Or spoon?”

“Your legs are so hairy,” the filling in his arm and leg taco observed. The outside of his thigh was the only place for her right hand when she found herself squished in the middle of all of his limbs.

“Are they ever not? That part, at least.”

“In the summer when I make you wax.”

“What do you want to have dreams about tonight, pretty girl?” he inquired with his mouth and nose in her freshly shampooed mane. It smelled like lemon. His desire to help her get to sleep, and indeed to have nice dreams when she arrived there, was grounded in a certain relief and satisfaction in the transparency in what unfolded throughout the night. He knew he had to have felt a certain amount of security to be able to say anything at all to her about Juan and Alexis, and then to explain the full context. Not so long in the past, he would have avoided it at all costs, because he would have felt threatened by her reaction. Then Christina was comfortable enough to admit that she needed to go clear up the gaps in the story with Juan rather than keep her anxiety to herself, hidden from her husband for safety’s sake. And she was still forthcoming with the communication after the call, and she was sympathetic to how he could feel about it. The whole episode demonstrated, in André’s view, a comprehensive improvement in the levels of trust and understanding in their marriage.

The fundamentals of the situation were still tough to take- his wife was still in love with another man too, and enough so that she was very upset by literally the rumor of his sharing a conversation with another woman- but that was easier to digest when she wasn’t also lying about it, trying to hide it, pretending, or deflecting, or letting it destroy everything for her and for them. There was a lot less drama surrounding the core issue. André couldn’t do anything about the core issue. He couldn’t make his wife un-love his former teammate. His choice on that was to accept it or walk away. He always felt he could do something about all the nonsense that ruined everything in their relationship though, and it finally felt as if he’d accomplished that, or they’d accomplished it together. Christina’s relationship with Juan was no longer rat poison for her relationship with him. He was finally just getting the benefits of letting her have the arrangement with the Spaniard that she wanted. He got a happier, less stressed, more emotionally fit girl to enjoy sharing his life with, and though he was sure she could be that way without Juan, he was also sure she didn’t believe that, and that it was foolish to keep trying to make her believe it. It felt very, very good to let go of that need to make her believe, and to duly reap the rewards.

“Exotic macaroni and cheese.”

“Exotic?”

“Like smoked Gouda, or a blend of many cheeses...”

“You want to dream about cheese?” the player asked skeptically as he released his strange wife to find a position that offered more long-term comfort.

“Or bread. Bread and cheese. Baguettes and Camembert. With wine, or coffee, even, in a Paris cafe. The kind the locals go to, not tourists. My makeup should be really pretty and effortless- very French- and you should have your sleeves rolled up, and a lovely scarf. And we kiss between every bite of divine bread and cheese, or bread and delicious French butter, and you flirt with your eyes the whole time, and it makes me blush and laugh a lot.” Christina was safely tucked under her favorite gangly arm by the time she was done setting the scene for her dream, and her cheek was resting comfortably on her footballer’s chest. He started thinking about kidnapping her for an overnight in Paris to celebrate his birthday. It was on Monday, and his girl was leaving for Doha on Tuesday. Bayern Munich was due at Signal Iduna Park on Saturday in the early evening. They could use the charter jet to fly after the match and still get to Paris in time for late dessert, spend the night, enjoy the day there together, and come back Sunday evening.

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