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sabraeal · 3 years

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If All Else Fails Just Play Dead

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Swan Princess AU

There is a boy in her house.

Two boys, actually; not counting Uncle, who is the Margrave Entaepode, or Papa, who acts like he is, or Raj, who everyone simply tolerates because there are worse things than having the first prince adopt your heir as their particular friend, and all of them start with denying said prince what he wants.

(And also because when he’s not trying to flex all his royal powers at once, Raj can be almost tolerable. He at least believes in magic, which gives him a leg up over just about every other boy Shirayuki has known, save for uncle, even if he doesn’t know any himself.)

Sakaki is also not to be counted, though she feels bad about it, on account of how often she typically forgets that Sakaki is a boy and not just some boy-shaped furniture Raj travels with, like how he always brings his pillow and his favorite chair. She’ll have to remember to bring him some extra pastries from the kitchen as an apology.

No, these are two entirely foreign boys, shipped straight from the court of the King Who Isn’t, as her father calls him-- though not within his mother’s hearing. Shirayuki is resigned to make the best of it; Uncle asks for so little, and she is the Lady of the Manor, even if she only comes by the title from a lack of older women to fill it. If she must, she can entertain their guests, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it, not one bit at all.

A shelf rattles, jostling the books on their bindings. Shirayuki’s fingers nearly dint a page as she turns it, but she does not look up. To look up would be to give in, and even if she is charged with entertaining, she does not need to be the entertainment.

It rattles again, now with two giggles to accompany it. Excellent. It seems both her troubles are accounted for.

With a sigh, she collects herself. This is what is fair, after all. It is her duty to see after Entaepode’s guests, and Papa is already taking on the brunt of the Her Majesty’s needs, as well as the marquis’ that travels with her. Not that she would have minded if he wanted to switch; Queen Haruto at least seemed like the sort to enjoy a quiet afternoon in the library.

A leg swings over the top of the shelf, long and skinny and ending in a particularly scuffed boot.

Very much, Shirayuki thinks, slapping her book shut on the table, unlike her son and his companion.

“You’re not supposed to do that.” She means to be mild, but each sound falls so waspish from her lips that it could sting. Oh, Uncle will be displeased when he finds out she was rude to their esteemed guests. “It harms the books.”

A sly, cat’s grin shines down on her as a second leg follows the first. “We’re just on the shelves.” Obi twitches his shoulders in a lazy excuse for a shrug. “It’s not like we’re ripping out pages.”

Of the three of them, he’s older-- oh, well, both boys are older than her, but he’s oldest. Only a few years shy of being a man in his own right; the sort of older that’s supposed to know better. Not that he looks it-- Obi’s supposed to be thirteen, but he’s barely an inch taller than Prince Zen, showing none of the stretch in his limbs that boys his age should before they come into their growth.

His feet dangle, just at the level of her nose, and uncharitable irritation itches in her thoughts. Maybe he’ll be one of those boys who’s small forever, a man in a child’s body. The sort of boy she’ll be looking down on instead of up at, should she get Papa’s height, or Uncle’s.

“The shelves are where the books live,” she tells him officiously, fists high on her hips. “And if you knock it over, then you might hurt your spine, or worse, one of theirs! Or even worse,” she adds with no little horror, “you might tear out a page!”

He blinks, those wide, gold eyes flashing like candlelight. “Huh.”

She conjures up Uncle at his most imperious as she says, “This isn’t a training yard.”

“How would you know?” The shelf wobbles, and a pale white mop heaves itself over it. The second Prince of Clarines is pinch-faced, like he’s always just finished sucking on a lemon, and pale as an invalid. She could believe he was bedridden, from the way he keeps waiting to be served. “It’s not like you’ve ever been on one.”

A breath hisses between her teeth. It’s not from lack of trying, she wants to say; her last birthday, Papa has trousers sewn for her, plus a shirt and waist. He’d promised her a sword, even traipsed her through the halls to the yard, but Uncle had been waiting right at the gate, mouth drawn to a forbidding line.

What are you thinking, Mukaze? She’d heard him growl, her ear pressed tight to the study door. My own heir, and you put a blade in her hand.

If she were a boy, you’d have thought I’d done it too late, Papa had replied, easy as always, the way that would drive Uncle mad. I don’t see the harm--

Of course you don’t. Uncle had never sounded so cold, so bitter as he did in that moment. You never do.”

Her stomach twists, slithering around like a nest full of snakes, only getting more knotted, more sick as she thinks about it. Uncle and Papa were close as brothers, surely--

Surely, she shouldn’t be worrying about this at all.

“Why are you wearing all that black?” she snips instead, ignoring the heat that licks up her neck. “It’s summer.”

It’s not doing him any favors either; all that thick velvet just makes his limbs skinny and his face more drawn, like he’s a skeleton rather than a boy.

The prince stills, legs no longer kicking, lips no longer flapping; just a steady, slow rise and fall of his chest. Obi-- a study of constant motion-- doesn’t even do that; instead he sits, utterly immovable, and stares.

With a voice chilled with the winter he’s never felt, His Highness finally says, “My father died.”

She’d known that, she had. His Majesty died a year ago, her Uncle even told her, their legs pressed tight on his study’s sofa. She liked doing that, lining bone to bone, like they might one day be a matching set, margrave and heir both. Another pair of shoulders to carry the burden of rule, after so many years of an absent, broader pair.

Her Majesty has ever been a bosom companion to this family, he’d continued, a strange tightness to his voice. Now that her mourning is over, she is bringing her youngest son to visit. I’m sure your father would be pleased if you became...as close as they.

So much for that. Uncle would be so disappointed-- not only had she scolded the prince, but she’d insulted him too, and--

And he had started it. Her mouth settles into a thin line, so like Uncle’s.

“So did my mother.” So long ago that she is barely more than a song and a scent. Still, there is no ceding ground, not to Prince Zen; every inch she gives him yields a mile, and he considers it his due. “And you don’t see me walking around in velvet during high summer.”

The prince’s skin is pale as moonlight, the envy of every maid in the manor, but it flushes an angry red now, his body trembling to contain him. “My father, he sputters, leaping off the shelf, “is more important than your stupid mother ever will be.”

Papa praises her for her even-temper. Just like your mother, he laughs, not as boldly as he is wont. You never let anything under your skin. Not like me. Though all our impulse certainly bred true.

Anger, Uncle would say in his soothing voice, every syllable measured, makes a man a fool. You would do well to eschew it if you can, my little girl.

So it is not that Shirayuki is angry; oh no, she is incandescent.

Her finger curl, carving pitted crescents in her palms. For once she is glad that magic is consigned to history books and scholars in their towers, for if she could but call fire to her fingertips, this whole library would be alight. Her mother may be more sense than solid to her, but there is not a stone here she has not touched, and--

Well, Uncle is right, but Shirayuki is content to be stupid.

“Maybe so,” she says, so calm, so even, just as Uncle might. “But at least people liked her.”

For a moment, Prince Zen looms, every line trembling, and she is convinced that he will raise a hand to her, that he will truly treat her as her father’s mouth has earned her. But instead he spins on his heel, stalking out of the library with naught a word.

Wrath leaves her at once, a spirit exorcised from her chest, and oh, she’s dizzy with the lack. Her hand reaches out, meaning to grab for the chair--

But another hand grabs it instead. Shirayuki had never noticed at what a patrician angle Obi’s nose sat, not until he stares down it at her, his face a smooth bronze mask.

“That,” he says, finally sounding his age, “was badly done.”

Had her father sat her down after that terrible, disastrous morning, and told her that one day she would consent to marry the prince, Shirayuki would have--

Well, she would have done something Uncle wouldn’t approve of, surely. And she had, when Papa sat her down not too long after the queen’s carriage disappeared into the horizon, and told her that their union had been agreed upon, dowry and all. But to think she would ever want to, that she herself would gladly make the plans-- impossible.

If only it had stayed that way. If only she had remembered why she’d waved him off at arm’s length every summer, why she’d tossed him in the pond when he tried to kiss her at fifteen and told him he’d have better luck finding a princess of his own species in there. At least then she might be able to scuttle this whole wedding, instead of having Papa and Haruto cluck at her pitifully when she asks, telling her that it would all work out eventually.

After all, hadn’t she loved him just last night?

Shirayuki huffs, rolling to her side. She’s no longer livid, which is an improvement; last night she’d thought quite long and extremely hard about how many tapestries she would need to tear from the walls to get a good, solid bonfire to catch and burn Wistal palace to its very stones. Once she started considering where the custodians might keep turpentine, or whether she could wheedle the key to the cellars out of the chatelaine, she’d forced herself to lay down. Few things had ever made her so angry that they couldn’t be solved by a good night’s rest.

Wrath and rage has cooled, but not to her usual levelheaded calm, the answer filling her with vim and vigor and a dangerous determination. Oh no, instead her fine barrel of fury has turned to melancholy, and with each minute that ticks by, she drinks a deeper draught.

Is beauty all that matters to you?

Even now her breath catches at the roiling confusion in Zen’s eyes. What else is there?

“What was I thinking?” Her fists clench at her sides, but it’s not enough, not until she brings them to her eyes and pressed down, colors sparking across her eyelids. “Why did I...?”

She thought he had changed. They all had, these last few years, hadn’t they? No longer the three children that had tripped over each other in her uncle’s halls, bickering and pinching and causing trouble wherever they roamed. Shirayuki’s temper had mellowed. Zen had grown taller-- or at least tall enough to please him. And Obi--

Obi should be here. And now he’s not, and it’s yet another why she has no answer to.

A timid knock brushes against her door, followed by an even softer, “M-my lady?”

Shirayuki pulls her fists from her eyes, blinking away the blur. “Come in.”

A small girl slinks inside, dark eyes wide and round. “M-my lady...” Her brow furrows. “Your hands are wet.”

She glances down, staring at the fingers laces so tightly in her nightgown. Her knuckles do indeed shimmer in the light, right where they had been pressed along her eyes. “So they are. I...suppose you are here to dress me.”

“Ah...” The maid loses her certainty, eyes darting around the room. “About that...”

Her heart leaps in her breast. “Has something happened?”

“Ah, well.” The girl winces. “There’s a bit of a, um, problem. With the arrangements.”

“The arrangements?” Shirayuki echoes.

“Ah...”

That’s when she hears the screams.

Her twelfth summer marks the moment that this arrangement becomes completely, irrevocably unfair.

“I don’t see what the problem is.” Branches shiver above her, the only sign of Obi a few flashes of black and buckskin and the leaves quivering in his wake. “You two have gotten nearly civil these days.”

“But you’ve gotten tall,” Shirayuki grouses, tucking herself between the roots of the old oak, book sprawled upon her lap. “Any day now you’ll be head and shoulders taller, and what if Zen’s the same? I can’t be the smallest.”

“Well.” She can’t see him, but she knows he settles above her, perched on a branch too precarious for his size. “You are a girl.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be tall.” A finger taps against the page, thoughtful. “Haruto is.”

“For a lady.”

“For anyone,” she corrects primly. “It’s fine enough for you to be tall-- you’re tolerable. But Zen...” She grimaces. “His height it the only thing that keeps him humble. The king isn’t tall, is he?”

“He is,” Obi informs her with relish. “Almost taller than my father, and he’s not done growing.”

She pictures it, Zen being able to look Haruka square in the eye, and shudders.

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Shirayuki sighs, finger knitting in her lap. “Uncle should forbid you from coming. You can stay for now, but next summer is right out.”

It’s strange how even though she can’t see him, she can feel his grin on the air. “I’m sure nothing would make him happier.”

“Or me,” she admits, wistful. “What good neighbors Zen and I might be, if we never had to look at each other again. Save for weddings and births and funerals, of course. And you’d always be welcome, Obi.”

“Thanks.” He drops down one of his too-long legs, toes curling in the air above her, the only visible part of him. “But I wasn’t talk about the Young Master.”

Shirayuki blinks, mouth curving in confusion as she parses his words. “You can’t mean Uncle.”

Obi leans, just enough for her to see his dubious, arched brow. “Why not?”

“Uncle’s always liked Zen.” He’d been the one to calm her when she’d come crying, distraught that Papa would make her marry a boy as pompous as him. Plenty of boys grow out of their pettiness, little girl, he’d told her, smoothing the wild riot of her hair, at least as many that don’t. “Even now, he’s with him, showing him the march.”

“Only because your father asked him,” Obi says, settling back into the canopy. “The next Margrave Entaepode needs to know what his lands can bring. Especially if he means to bring them to his brother.”

Shirayuki frowns. “I’m the next Margrave Entaepode.”

“No,” Obi hums. “You’re the next margravine.”

Shirayuki is not sure what she expects when she walks into Clarines’ great hall, but it is certainly not carnage.

“What happened?” she breathes, picking her way over a toppled chair. There’s not a scrap of fabric that’s not torn, not a table nor chair without a wobble. Flower petals lay strewn on the ground, and the cake--

“Oh no,” she sighs, “I was so looking forward to desset.”

It’s toppled, every tier crushed to the stone beneath it, buttercream and jam and custard smeared up and down the aisle. It had been a gift from the Seirans; Zen had been so excited to know their much-beloved cook had made each layer with him in mind-- Except one, Obi reminded him, swiping a bit of cream from a spoon. You know who Cookie loves best.

“A beast did it,” the steward tells her, near to tiers. “Knocked it over, then even stopped to take a bite.”

“Three bites,” a maid chimes in. “Odd, it was. I could have sworn it thought about it too, just stood there looking as Cook came in, shouting to high heaven, and ate its share.”

Shirayuki glances down. “Flew? As in-- with wings?”

“Yes,” the steward agrees, “it had wings, and a mouth with cruel teeth.”

“There weren’t no teeth,” the chatelaine snaps waving the wailing man off. “It was just a bird. Swan, I think, from the size. And the meanness. Came in here like a holy terror, it did.

“It was a beast with teeth,” the steward insists, “and it bit one of the footmen!”

The chatelaine huffs. “What did you expect, trying to grab it like that?”

Shirayuki can’t help but agree; she’s bitten more than a man or two that tried to catch her as well. But that’s not what has her attention now; instead it is the cake on the floor, those three big bites out of it, baring chocolate sponge and raspberry custard. The layer Cookie made special. The one she thought would go to waste when...

“Where is he now?” At their looks, she amends, “I mean, it. The beast.”

“Outside,” the steward says, sending a narrow look toward the door. “A few of the maids managed to chase it out, but I’m afraid it will have gotten into the decoration-- my lady, where--?”

“I’d like to take a look,” Shirayuki calls back, slippered feet already carrying her to the door. “I, ah, think I might know how to solve this...problem?”

The steward blinks. “Is there some...Tanbarunian folk tradition for this? Ridding the grounds of a foul beast?”

Her feet stutter at the threshold, and she swallows down a laugh. “Certainly something for removing one fowl.”

At thirteen, Shirayuki will admit, Zen becomes tolerable. Not without extreme duress, and certainly never if Obi is around, but being in his presence no longer feels like slivers under her fingernails. Now it’s just that unpleasant drone of cicadas, the same that herald his arrival every summer.

“Are you supposed to be climbing?” she asks, settling herself at the base of the tree’s trunk, as always. “Your mother won’t thank you for ruining those trousers.”

Obi laughs, already deep in the canopy. “I think you mean his laundress.”

“I have plenty more,” Zen scoffs, levering his boot over another knot, giving him the height to reach the first branch. “And I think you’re only so cross because you can’t climb for beans.”

She retracts her opinion. His Highness has certainly not become tolerable in the least.

“Come off it,” Obi laughs, so easy in his bower. “Anyone can climb.”

Zen grins down at her with smug authority. “Not Shirayuki, she’s a girl.”

“So is Kiki,” Obi reminds him, “and if she heard you talk like that, she’d come up and throw you off that branch herself.”

“Kiki hardly counts as a girl--”

“--That’s not what Mitsuhide would say--”

“--And that doesn’t mean Shirayuki can,” Zen adds, tone brooking no argument. “She doesn’t even have trousers on.”

“Shirayuki can climb in a dress just fine.” Obi swings down, right to the lowest branch. Or rather, the second lowest, since Zen hasn’t vacated the first. “Come on, I’ll tell you how.”

She spares the tree a dubious glance. “Are you sure--?”

“Always. Don’t you trust me?” He lowers down a hand, callused and bronzed, and she takes it. “Good, now put your foot there. Now just...think up.”

She sends him a dubious look. “I don’t think it’s possible to just go up by thinking it.”

He grins down. “You’d be surprised.”

Shirayuki is definitely ruining her dress.

“You’re sure it’s up here?” she calls down, a worried swarm of footmen huddling beneath her. “Waterfowl aren’t really...tree-dwelling birds.”

“I’m sure, my lady,” one pipes up beneath her. “Took to wing, then hopped up the branches easy as you please.”

Shirayuki casts a long look up the oak, sighing. “Of course he did.”

One slippered foot lifts, hooking over a thicker branch, resting her weight right by the trunk.

“Just think up,” she murmurs, irritation rising with every word. “Just think up and it’s hardly anything at all.”

“HONK,” agrees the goose above her.

“Oh.” She blinks, taking in the sleek white body and the webbed feet tucked unnaturally beneath it. Well, not that the pose was unnatural, but the place. “You’re not a swan at all.”

“HONK,” the goose informs her, wistful this time.

“Be glad,” she says, reaching for him. “If you were any bigger, I wouldn’t be able to carry you, and you’d be stuck up here with your big wings and bad decisions.

The goose ducks it head, abashed. “HONK.”

“You better,” she starts, trying to wrangle a bird his size beneath her arm, “be exactly who I think you are.”

This close, her fowl friend doesn’t dare express his opinion at the only volume nature saw fit to give him, but instead, cuddles right against her neck. For one, weak moment, Shirayuki leans against the trunk, letting her head sink into his feathers. Please let this be him. If it is, she can worry about the how later. Maybe even the why. As long as he hasn’t abandoned her, there’s nothing--

“Not to interrupt you,” a lady’s languid voice drawls beneath her. “But I’m assuming that you might need some help getting down.”

Fifteen is when Shirayuki is made aware of just how utterly unfair her life will be from now on, now that she’s to be the wife of a prince.

“No, no,” Obi laughs, nervous. “I think the Young Master has it right this time, Miss. You can’t come.”

“Why not?” He’s gotten much taller now, taller even than when he arrived, and she has to look up to guilelessly meet his eye, much more than she’s used to. “If I can climb trees with you, I can splash around in a pond just fine--”

“Yes, but--” his mouth split into a pained grimace-- “climbing trees doesn’t involve taking off clothes. You can see how that might be a, hm, problem now, can’t you, Miss?”

“No.”

His exasperation is completely unwarranted, considering how exasperating he’s being. “You’re a lady.”

“One that can swim,” she counters. “We’ve done it before, I don’t know why it’s bothering you now.”

“Because you’re...” He waves a hand at her, a harried up and down, but she only stares back. “Of all the things for Master to leave to me...”

“I can keep my shift on,” she offers, “if that helps.”

“It really doesn’t, Miss.” Obi sighs, one hand coming up to rub at his shoulder. “Surely your father-- no, your uncle. Surely your uncle’s talked to you about how boys and girls shouldn’t, um...you know.”

“I don’t.”

“It’s just...” He takes a steeling breath. “Miss, you’re a woman now. You can’t be naked with men.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I said I would wear my shift. And besides, you’re not men, you’re boys.”

Obi head rolls heavenward. “Only to you.”

Shirayuki gives him a considering look and pulls out her trump card. “Would you let Kiki Seiran come?”

She doesn’t know this Kiki Seiran, not from anything more than what’s been said in her presence, but she knows-- whatever a man does, Kiki does, and better too. The moment her name leaves her lips, Obi drops her a helpless glare.

“Kiki,” he says, as if savoring the word, “doesn’t count. No one lets Kiki Seiran do something, she just does it, and we all live with the consequences.”

A fond smile flickers across his lips, and for no reason at all, her stomach twists. “You should marry her.”

Obi blinks. “Huh?”

“Kiki Seiran,” she says lightly. “It seems she’s really quite impressive.”

For a long moment he stares at her, unblinking. Then he coughs, one, twice, until it’s no longer a cough but roaring laughter.

Shirayuki stares at him. “Is something funny?”

“Oh, Miss,” he wheezes. “That’s some vote of confidence, but Kiki Seiran-- she’s not for the likes of me.”

The sick knot in her stomach dissipates into affront. “Why not? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Again, you really know how to compliment a man,” he teases. “But no count worth his acreage will marry his daughter and heir to a bastard. With her pedigree, they’re probably planning to marrying her to Elder Highness as we speak.”

“Well, that’s silly,” she huffs. “You’re worth a thousand princes Obi. Any lady would be lucky to have you.”

His smile wavers. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“You should bring her next time,” she decides. “I can talk to her.”

“Ah,” he coughs, shaking his head as he traipses after her. “That won’t be necessary at all.”

This is not how she thought she’d meet the illustrious Kiki Seiran, her wedding dress torn to rags and goose hugged tight in her arms, but it would not be the first time today fate thwarted her expectations.

“I’m fine,” Shirayuki assures her, slowly making her descent. “But do you have, um, water?”

One elegant brow arches. “Water?”

“Ah, yes.” She drops down before her-- oh, Lady Seiran is...quite a bit taller than she’d imagined, and at least twice as pretty. No wonder Obi always smiled when he talked about her. “Like a, um, lake? Or a river might do?”

“A lake?” Her gaze drops, mouth canting into a thoughtful line. “For your avian compatriot, I suppose. You think his home must be close by.”

“Yes,” she lies, because babbling about ancient texts she’s certain she was never supposed to see and magic of the blackest sort seemed a poor first impression to make. “It would probably, uh, help with the...destructive behavior.”

“He has left quite a spectacle behind. It will take hours to clean that up. Or days,” she adds with a pointed look toward the goose. “Your wedding seems to be thoroughly postponed.”

Good, she doesn’t say. This Kiki Seiran is Zen’s friend too, after all. And even if Shirayuki could have shaken him to pieces last night, she’s that too.

“Water?” she says instead.

It’s the right thing to say, since Kiki turns around, gesturing toward the treeline. “There’s a pond back there. Just follow the cobblestone path and it should take you right out to the dock.”

“Perfect.” Shirayuki takes two hurried steps before pausing, turning over her hip to add, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Kiki. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

There’s that brow again, lifted into an elegant arch Shirayuki could never hope to mimic. “Only good things, I hope.”

Her stomach lurches as she replies, “The best.”

#obiyukibingo21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #swan princess au #my fic #ans #listen this is another fic where like #i want to write the 50K lead up #the political intrigue that leads to this whole arrangement #and the magic #and obi and shirayuki and zen as kids who BARELY like each other and then become besties and then have this LOVE TRIANGLE #the whole terrible relationship between Uncle and Mukaze and Shirayuki's Mom and Haruto and KAIN #sideplots with Izana and Raj #like guys i have THOUGHTS #one day i'll come back around and write more of this #or someone will make me #WHO KNOWS #😂

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paintingraves · 4 years

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A purr-fect day

Went to OPT prompts and received a prompt about Percival being swarmed by a pack of kittens so here - have this very soft thing ❤️

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It’s Percival Graves’ birthday.

The man himself doesn’t seem to care, but every single one of his Aurors know about it. So does Newt, who's been living in a rented flat in New York for a few months now, working in an official capacity as a consultant for the MACUSA. They are trying to reform some of their laws about magical creatures: it is a long, tedious process -- one that sets back the publication of his second book by months -- but it’s important and Newt really feels like he is making a difference.

His routine these days is usually the same. Newt wakes up at the crack of dawn and tends to his creatures; then he gets dressed and drops by Jacob’s bakery on his way to work in order to grab coffee and a delicious pastry. His favourite at the moment is a croissant-like delicacy filled with warm chocolate. Newt always wolfs it down like he hasn’t eaten in three days and licks his fingers clean afterwards, unashamed.

He steps into MACUSA through the magical revolving door and heads to the Aurors’ bullpen, where his office and work await him. They chatter amicably between colleagues until 8 am, at which point Director Percival Graves makes his grand entrance -- cup of bitter black coffee in his hand and dark circles under his eyes. He gives them a debriefing as he sips his drink. When he's done they get to work, and Graves heads down to his own office. He always passes by Newt when he does, and Newt always gets to appreciate the heady smell of his cologne on the way.

(He… may or may not have a bit of a thing for Percival Graves. So what? Almost everyone here does, apparently, because their director is just that striking. Newt is no different.)

But today is a special day, and things take a different turn.

Newt stills drops by Jacob’s bakery, but he’s earlier than usual. Instead of buying only one pastry, he buys an assortment of them, trying to pick ones he thinks Percival would like.

All his colleagues are present at the office as early as 7 am. Newt steps into the room as they’re starting to clear the tables free of paperwork, ink, quills, books and other bulky things to rearrange them in a sort of semi-circle to serve as a buffet.

Madeleine uses her wand to unfold a large white tablecloth and everyone helps set the table: there's pots of coffee, warm chocolate and tea; Newt brought pastries, John’s baked an apple pie, and Esther made a fruit salad. Soon enough, with everyone’s contributions, the table is full of food and drink aplenty. Diana is blowing up balloons while Geralt hangs a large ‘happy birthday’ banner across the room.

There's one table reserved for gifts. Newt can guess what most people could have bought: perhaps a new tie or a book, a good bottle of wine, etc. Newt himself has gotten Percival an exotic plant, whose flowers release a calming scent that has the same effect on humans as a cat purring. He hopes Percival will like it.

It’s nearly 8. They're all a bit nervous; truth be told they have no idea how Graves will react to the display. He certainly isn’t expecting it, that's for sure. Geralt said he's never known Percival to mention his birthday, much less celebrate it. But today also marks the first year the man's been back at work despite his ordeal at the hands of Grindelwald, and that deserves to be remembered. They’re just hoping he’ll be touched by the attention, and happy.

When Percival walks into the room at 8 precisely, he freezes on the doorstep. His eyes widen in surprise and alarm. He takes in the redecorated room, his hand shaking slightly around his cup of coffee. “... What is this?”

“Happy birthday, sir,” his Aurors say all at once, smiling.

Percival’s eyes widen even more. “Oh shit,” he says, coming to a realization. “It is my birthday, isn’t it? I’m… Fuck. I don’t know what to say. This… is a surprise, but...”

“You deserve it,” Diana says simply, and they all nod in agreement. “I’ll put on some music. I hope you like jazz!”

“Get you anything to drink, sir? Or eat? We got a ton of stuff here, including but not limited to John’s famous apple pie!”

“A - a slice of apple pie sounds perfect, thank you,” Percival says, still bewildered. He looks almost timid, so wrong-footed. “And coffee, please. I’m sure it’ll taste better than this brew I have.”

“Let me take your coat,” Newt offers, stepping forward. “And make yourself comfortable.”

"There’s work to do,” Percival says, even as he takes off his cream-coloured trench coat and his hat. Underneath, he wears one of his usual three-piece suits, complete with dark blue pants, a white shirt and an assorted waistcoat and tie. Everything is tailored to perfection, as per usual. Newt will honestly never get over how attractive the older man is. It doesn't help that Percival rolls up his sleeves to his elbows. "I can't stay long, but I really appreciate this, thank you…"

His words get drowned in the soft jazz music that starts playing. Everyone relaxes and starts to eat and drink, standing up, or sitting on chairs around the room; they're all happy that Percival hasn’t reacted negatively (and why would he?)

The director seems to have gotten over his shock now; he is clearly embarrassed (the tips of his ears blushing red) as well as deeply flattered, but he’s not mad.

At one point there's the opening of presents.

Percival stays sitting in his chair as they bring the wrapped gifts over to him. He thanks each Auror warmly, saying he never expected to be this spoiled, and that they shouldn't have. He makes jokes about getting old. Percival receives a brand new watch (courtesy of three of the Aurors, who put together some savings to afford it) as well as a silver hoop earring -- much to his delight and surprise. He raises an eyebrow as Geralt explains sheepishly that he’s noticed Percival’s ear was pierced, yet that he never wore such jewelry, promoting Percival to regal them with a few tales of his rebellious youth. He puts the earring on. It looks incredibly dashing, giving him a bit of a more roguish air. It's terribly, terribly attractive.

There's also a funny tie with little ducklings printed on it which Percival promises to wear the next day at work; two Sherlock Holmes books; a shiny pocket knife (for Percival never goes anywhere unarmed) and finally Newt’s plant. Newt monologues about its healing properties, as he’s wont to do, and Percival thanks him with a warm smile, telling Newt it is incredibly thoughtful. He is so polite. So sincere. So composed. Ugh. Newt wants this man quite badly. He doesn’t know how much longer he can handle this sweet torture...

The last gift Percival receives is… different. He is laughing, and he's never looked this happy in the months Newt has known him. It makes his heart swell painfully inside his chest. He wants Percival to keep smiling like that, everyday, and he wants to be the reason behind his joyous smile.

“Alright, what is this?” Percival asks as Madeleine give him a large square box. They managed to convince him to wear one of those pointy colorful birthday hat, and it is slightly askew on his head. A strand of dark hair falls into his face. Percival looks more ruffled and relaxed than they’ve ever seen him, and Newt wonders whether one of the aurors spiked his coffee with whiskey or something, because this is quite the contrast compared to the austere, severe, put together man they’re used to seeing daily.

“Open it!” Madeleine says, and Percival does - only for everyone to gasp in sheer joy at the sight of what’s inside of the box.

Kittens!

“Oh my god!” Esther squeals happily, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“So one of my cats had babies recently, and I figured this was a nice gift! Here they are!”

“I…” Percival says, at a loss as to what to do. Madeleine grins and, gently, she takes each kitten from the box and puts them in Percival’s lap, then takes the box away.

The kittens (four in total) immediately meow for attention and begin to explore their new surroundings: one of them tries to climb on Percival’s chest, digging its claws into the expensive fabric of his waistcoat; another nearly falls off Percival’s thigh except the man catches him, and the kitten fits in his big hand. Percival says ‘Hello little guy, hello’ and strokes his head with a finger so very gently.

Percival Graves and kittens. Newt thinks this might be heaven.

“They’re so tiny,” Percival murmurs in awe. “Oh no no no, where are you going? Ow, not the claws, hey, not the claws --”

Percival Graves swarmed by a pack of kittens is definitely the cutest thing Newt has ever seen. He can’t stop smiling.

Neither can Percival, apparently - his cheeks are glowing with happiness, his eyes wrinkling attractively at the corners, his face and posture open and serene. He helps one of the kittens climb up his shoulder, where it sniffs Percival’s collar curiously, and gathers the other three together in his lap, petting them. Noticing Newt’s staring, he holds one of the kittens up. “Take him.”

Esther kneels next to Percival, who gives her one of the kittens too, and she looks about to cry as she holds the tiny animal in her hands. She folds her arm and the kitten curls up in the crook of her elbow, seemingly having found a nice corner to nap in, and purrs as she scratches it behind the ears gently.

“They’re up for adoption,” Madeleine informs them, beaming. “We already have three cats, and I got a friend who adopted one from this litter, but these four are looking for a new home!”

“I’ll take one,” Esther says immediately. “My husband’s allergic but we’ll find a way to make it work. I've always wanted a cat.”

“... I can take one too,” Geralt says hesitantly. “They’re rather cute.”

“They’re adorable.”

“Percival? Ahem, sir?”

Percival had been busy making heart eyes at the kitten in his lap. “Hmm? Oh, I wish I could, but…” He sighs. “I wouldn’t have time to care for him. They deserve better than that.”

“Newt?”

Newt shakes his head. Same as Percival, he’s already got a lot of creatures to care for.

“I’ll keep asking around then,” Madeleine concludes.

Geralt takes one of the kittens. Percival gets up from his chair, his last tiny friend still perched on his shoulder like a very fluffy parrot. He brushes cat hair from his pants with little success, and walks up to Newt, who’s busy cooing at his own kitten. He’s already given it a name and everything. Oh, and she’s a female.

“This is Kiara,” he says, showing the kitten to Percival, who smiles warmly.

“Seems like she’s adopted you, uh.”

“I do so wish I could take her in,” Newt says mournfully.

“Hmm. You’ve already got a lot on your shoulders, haven't you, but I understand the sentiment.”

“You look happy,” Newt remarks.

Graves laughs. “You say that as if it’s the second coming of christ. Am I that sour and grumpy all the time?"

“Well...” Newt ducks his head and avoids the question, though he knows Graves is just teasing him. “I’m really glad you liked our little surprise party here.”

“Whose idea was it?”

“Everyone’s, really. We figured you ought to know how much we all appreciate you. You’re a very good leader, Percival, and a good man, and a good friend.”

“...Thank you,” Percival says quietly. "I do try."

“I mean that,” Newt insists. “Met a lot of politicians in my life, after all, I know what I'm talking about."

"Ah ah. While I can’t say I’ve met a lot of magizoologists in my life, I also really like working with you, Newton. You've very knowledgeable, and you are able to think outside the box. I really like that.”

Newt swallows at the compliment, his heart picking up pace, heat rising to his face. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcing himself to look straight at the other man. Percival meets his gaze. There’s a heavy moment of silence. Time slows down as Newt’s eyes flit from Percival’s own down to his lips, and he is overcome with the urge to simply kiss the other man. Percival wets his lips too, looking up at him underneath his dark eyelashes, and he leans imperceptibly closer and Newt thinks oh fuck -- and then Madeleine steps into their intimate circle with a plate of cake to offer them some. The moment is shattered.

But… Newt didn’t dream it, right? Right?

For a moment there he saw desire reflected back in Percival’s eyes… right?

He refuses another helping of cake, but Percival does take an apple fritter and bites into it, smearing sugar across his lips. He licks them clean.

Newt wants to kiss him so badly. Again.

After an hour or so of festivities it’s time to clean up and get back to work, however reluctant they are to do so.

For the rest of the day, the balloons still hang on the walls of the aurors’ room and kittens roam free in the office. They play with bits of string or red dots that the aurors make appear on the floor with the tip of their wand.

Percival goes back to his office and keeps the pointy hat. It’s not a very productive day, work-wise, but it’s one that leaves everybody in high spirits when the evening comes, and certainly strengthens the bonds between colleagues.

Around 8, Newt prepares to leave the bullpen as well. He tidies things up on his desk and takes his suitcase, turning off the lights as he leaves. He knocks on Percival’s door and hears a rumbling ‘yes, come in’.

“Leaving for the day,” Newt says. Percival nods his assent, nose deep in paperwork. “Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Newton,” Graves says absently. He dips his quill into ink and scribbles something down. Newt sighs.

“Sir?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you - that is, would you like to grab a drink with me sometime?”

Percival pauses, looking up at him above the rim of his tortoise shell glasses. “Why?”

“B - because…” Oh bugger, he read this all wrong. A stab of fear lances through him. “Err. No, nevermind, forget I asked. I’ll just - go. I'm leaving. Yes.”

“Newt.”

“Yes?” Newt looks back at him, his palms sweating, only to be struck dumb.

Graves is smirking. He’s never seen such an expression on his face and oh, that must be what Graves looks like when he’s really flirting. Newt feels weak in the knees.

“It’d be my pleasure,” Percival purrs, and Newt makes a sound not unlike that of a startled mouse. He flushes and haltingly steps back, fiddling with the handle of his briefcase, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

“Oh. Oh that’s. That’s good then. Great. Brilliant. Hm. Is… after work tomorrow okay for you?”

“It’s good,” Percival agrees. “Have a good evening. And Newt?”

“Y - yes?”

“Remember to breathe.” And there’s that infuriating, smug smirk again.

Newt vows to kiss it off the man’s face one day until Graves is the one struggling to remember how to breathe. He shall make Percival lose his carefully constructed composure.

“Tomorrow it is,” he repeats, straightening up. “I look forward to it.”

Graves shakes his head, as though he can’t believe he’s really doing this, but he’s still smiling.

Newt makes his way out MACUSA and back to his flat with a spring in his step, happiness and hope bubbling inside his chest.

He did it!

And Percival agreed! Holy shit. This. Is. Amazing! By Merlin - tomorrow can’t come fast enough!

#percival graves #my fic #gramander #newt scamander #hhh when i think i used to write only angst lmaoooo #fluff #this is FLUFFY

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 55 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 55 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

Someone in the melee noticed them in a brief moment of better visibility. They frantically called, “Boarders aft!” Shocked into further action, Captain Mord left the fight and led the two hundred and fifty foot charge back to the map table. They were too late. Kurin was gone.

In a small boat, barely out of sight in the fog, Tanlin bent her back to carefully muffled oars. The Sea Hawk circled once and disappeared into the mist. Shortly, they heard it scream, back near the Longin. The bird came back and circled, flying low and slow ahead of them. In short order, the Wide Wing lead them to the other three boats.

It swooped down and landed on Tanlin’s heavily padded shoulder, talons adding another few small rips to the pads. Tanlin chucked the Sea Hawk under the beak and then gave it a bit of dried skelt. The razor sharp beak took it gently from her fingers and made short work of it.

As Kurin looked on in amazement, Tanlin said, “Good, Skye. Good. Now, show us t’e way t’ ‘ome an’ nest.” The big bird bobbed its head, and launched off her shoulder, beating up, out of sight. Tanlin had a faraway look, as if the world about her was a dream.

She shook herself and pointed surely through the fog, “T’at way, swift an’ quiet.” After they had rowed for a bit, she ordered, “Step masts. Rig t’e sails. Lively, now!” Without a word, the crewmen and women leapt to obey.

A cat’s paw breeze swept through the fog and filled their sails. In a short time they were clear of the fog and scudding north through the chop raised by a brisk breeze.

Finally, Tanlin relaxed, but only a little. She called to the other boats, “Wad t’ey nae look at our message at all?”

“No, Captain. We were driven back by knives.”

Shaken, Tanlin asked, “T’ey refused ye rescue? T’e Longin broke the Groit Law? Ye were attacked wit’ knives?” She paused and swallowed hard. In a calm voice belied by shaking shoulders and tears she asked, “W’at losses?”

“One dead, three wounded, one missing,” they replied.

Kurin saw Tanlin crumple a bit but then brace herself. “‘Oo died?”

“Macoul, the helmsman,” they called back.

“T’e wounded?” she asked, shaking but dry-eyed now.

“Gemma Colin, Darkistry Colm and Lenai Halin, Captain,” they called back.

“An’ t’e missin’?”

“Bosun Modanet.”

Then she did cry but she held her course. “A good ‘elmsmon gone. Doctor Corin’s daughter. M’ best friend. Arnat’s mot’er. Oi can ‘ope t’at t’e Bosun got our message t’ yer Ca’tain. I’ ‘arm t’ t’ese few ‘urts so muckle, ‘ow does anyane survive a war?”

Kurin tried to distract Tanlin from her grief. “How did you train Skye so well? I never heard of anyone taming a Wide Wing before. It was like he understood you.”

Tanlin did smile, though there were still tears in her eyes, “She. Skye’s a female. T’under’ead’s bock ‘ome on t’e nest. Huh, she just got bock t’ t’e ship. She brought ‘im a fish.”

“But how did you train her so well?” asked Kurin, in genuine curiosity.

“Oi dinnae. Oi defended t’eir nest wen t’ey decided t’ make ‘t in our rigging w’ile we rode in t’e eye o’ t’e storm. Oi brought t’em some fish, because t’ey’d been days wit’oot food. T’ey adopted me. T’en w’en Mecat gave m’ a Dragon’s Gift, t’ey were on m’ shoulders, trin’ t’ protect m’ from a Groit Dragon. T’ey got included in t’e Gift.

“Sorry, Oi’m upset an’ tellin’ ‘t badly. Let m’ calm down an’ Oi’ll tell ‘t better.”

“Did I hear one of the crewmen call you ‘Captain’?”

“Full o’ quest’ns, arenae ye?” said Tanlin, smiling in spite of herself. “Aye, Ca’tain Barad stepped down voluntarily, for t’e good o’ t’e ship. T’e crew elected m’. T’was unanimous. Ye con poll t’em yersel’, i’ ye wont.”

“What I would want is to hear Barad say that he stepped down voluntarily,” said Kurin almost wistfully.

“T’en ye shall ‘ear ‘t from ‘is ane mout’, an’ t’at, soon,” said Tanlin firmly. She pointed. The sails of the big square-rigger could be seen coming over the horizon. A Wide Wing could be seen leading the ship. When it was clear that ship and boats had seen each other, the bird dove from five hundred feet up, hitting the water cleanly, with only a small splash. A few minutes later, it surfaced and took off, circling back to the high lookout where the nest was.

“T’at wa’ T’under’ead,” said Tanlin, proudly. “Wen we get t’e wounded taken care o’, Oi’m going t’ take t’em a basket o’ fish, for t’eir chicks. Oi’m part o’ t’e flock, after all, an’ tis the duty o’ t’e flock t’ care for t’e young.” She cocked her head in self-conscious imitation of a bird. “Oi’ll take care o’ ye, t’. Wont t’ ‘elp feed t’em?”

The Grandalor turned into the wind, using it as a brake, to stop so that the party could board.

“What fortune?” called a light baritone voice that Kurin knew.

“She came wit’ us, Barad,” Tanlin called back. “T’e price wa’ ‘eavy. We ‘ave t’ree wounded, ane dead an’ ane missin’.”

“You heard the Captain,” Barad’s voice called. “Get four stretchers rigged, now!” Their boats bumped up to the Grandalor and tied up to a piece of cargo net that had been hung over the side for use as a ladder. The boarding party swarmed up the net, except for Tanlin and a few others who stayed behind to tend to the dead and injured.

Tanlin turned to Kurin, “Go on, get aboard. T’ese folk volunteered t’ be in t’is party an’ ye are t’e reason t’at t’eir blood wa’ shed. I’ ye donnae get aboard, t’will ‘ave all been for naught.”

“I’ll go aboard, never fear that,” Kurin answered seriously. “These people risked their lives to get me here. I can take a few minutes to help them. I know bandaging and that abdominal wound needs to be rebound. She is in shock. Wind her tightly. Her arms and legs, too. It will help to keep her blood pressure up.”

“Thank you, Kurin,” said a dark haired woman, injured in both an arm and a leg, as she helped wrap the more gravely injured woman. “I’m Darkistry, by the way. I hope that Lenai will be able to thank you herself. I wish that we had known this trick of bandaging two hours ago.”

“I wish that I had known it was needed,” Kurin replied seriously, bandaging an arm. “Captain Tanlin, this woman needs to go first. She’s in deep shock.”

Tanlin, who was steadying the first of the stretchers, said, “OK, Kurin, can ye ‘elp get Lenai int’ t’e stretcher? Oi’ll ‘old ‘t steady.”

Kurin placed the crewmen along Lenai’s still form and directed, “Everyone, lift at once, on my mark… Lift!” They all lifted until she was high enough for Tanlin to get the stretcher under her.

Tanlin signaled for the stretcher to be raised and called, “Number ane, ready for lift! Get ‘er directly t’ Doctor Corin in sickbay! Oi t’ink ‘e’s going t’ ‘ave t’ operate on ‘er.”

Darkistry said, “Take Gemma next. She’s lost a fair bit of blood and got a nasty blow to the head. My cuts are pretty deep, but I’m not bleeding much, I just need a ride to the deck and somebody to lean on until I can get stitched up.”

“Ye’ll lie flat an’ stay t’at way until we can take care o’ ye,” Tanlin ordered.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Darkistry replied with an almost impudent grin. As an aside to Kurin, she confided, “I never was very good at taking orders but I think that I’ll follow these.”

They helped Gemma into her stretcher and Darkistry into hers. Crewmen went up alongside, to keep the stretchers steady. An honor guard of Macoul’s friends came down and escorted his body up to the deck.

When they were alone in the boats, Kurin demanded, “What are you up to, Tanlin? This ship,” she gestured at the Grandalor, “has been rebuilt for war! I’m not blind. You’ve changed the bow profile for better speed and ramming strength. It’s been reinforced with at least two layers of Wing Ray for hardness and penetration. Your bowsprit has been reinforced and broadened as part of that.

“Your standing rigging is over twice the thickness needed for storms and it’s been moved to absorb ramming shocks better. Your rigging and sails have the coloration of fresh fireproofing by Hag extracts.

“What do you hope to gain by all of this?” Kurin ended her tirade, hands on hips, face set and angry.

“Oi’ve made ye a promise, an’ ‘t’ll be kept! T’is ship ‘as been remade because we see precious little o’ justice in t‘e actions o’ t’e Council!

“We are nae paddle ducks t’at ye can cut t’e ‘ead off wit’ nae struggle! We’ll fight for t’e rights o’ the Groit Law! Wen we can get a fair trial, we’ll submit t’ real justice!

“We’ve a few prisoners t’at we belive need t’ go for a swim t’ yer foster fat’er Iren’s halls! T’eir trial’ll ‘ave t’ be a fleet matter. We are ‘olding t’em until t’ey can ‘ave t’e chance t’ rebut charges o’ mutiny an’ murder!” Tanlin paused for breath, fire in her eye.

“Tell m’ Kurin, w’at’s t’e second o’ t’e Groit Laws, t’e ane right after t’e ban on slavery?”

“The right to rebut charges. Everybody knows that…” Kurin trailed off.

“Name m’ t’e court w’ere we can answer any charges? T’ere’s nae such court for us. We were condemned wit’oot trial. Ask yer friend Sula i’ t’at precedent isnae w’ere t’e Ca’tain o’ Ca’tains got ‘is start? T’en ask ‘ow many ships an’ lives were lost as a result. T’e answers’ll appall ye.

“Groit Law is put aside at groit peril. We’ll send for Sula an’ Ca’tain Sarfin, along wit’ a quorum o’ t’e Council, yer ane Ca’tain Mord an’ ane ot’er ‘oo ‘as an interest in t’is case. Blind Mecat. Ye know ‘er, Oi believe,” Tanlin finished with irony.

“How can you send for Cat, or the others, for that matter?” Now Kurin was curious again.

Instead of answering, Tanlin said, “Cume up t’ t’e deck an’ brace yersel’ for w’at ye’ll see. Ye’ve nae beheld t’e worst t’at’s t’ be seen, yet.” Tanlin did not wait, but climbed the net. Shrugging, Kurin followed.

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS NEXT==>

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 55 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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pyrofleurs · 6 years

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for characters Bella and Marian, and for ships.... also Bella and Marian (lmao)

ahahaha you know me so well

i’ll start with....

Bella

How I feel about this character: honestly. tbh to be honest. she’s my favorite character LOL it used to be marian for so long but the more we get to know bella like.... i love her lmfao she is also somewhat relatable to me and i’m so glad we’re getting to see more of her now!! i remember when we used to get like one drawing of her every few months or so i was so thirsty for new content lol

All the people I ship romantically with this character: marian... even tho i feel like their relationship before was probably more conflicted than we know now... but atm i still ship them way too much for a ship that we know is no longer canon FLKDSJ. and cyanthia too!! although i kinda feel like they wouldn’t work out in the long run (tammy said cyanthia hates kids so... rip. but i still like them together a lot). those are the only two i seriously ship with her but i also just like the idea that everyone on toxink just kind of casually flirts w each other ahaha

My non-romantic OTP for this character: the rest of toxink aka arnick and tetrox, i love their team dynamic so much. i could read a whole comic of all of them just hanging out

My unpopular opinion about this character: i feel like people have so many conflicting opinions about her at this point idk whats unpopular. i’m probably too biased in her favor tho tbh

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: REDEMPTION ARC LET HER BE FRIENDS WITH EVERYONE

My OTP: its still maribella as of now but it could change in the future

My OT3: bella/marian/cyanthia. bella and her grumpy girls

Marian

How I feel about this character: honestly i dont think i’ve ever found a character i relate to more in any piece of media i have ever watched/read etc ever.. i love her so much and honestly this recent chapter has helped me think critically abt myself and how i handle conflict and my own relationships. i know its dramatique but its true lol

All the people I ship romantically with this character: so many lmfao uhh bella still first probably bc im a sucker for friends to lovers and ALSO enemies to lovers and and their dynamic is so interesting and im gay and sad. i do still like marian/vadelma but atm i feel like i need more info on vadelma’s whole role in their breakup because it does seem like vadelma was p influential in marian’s choice to kick bella off the team and break up with her and. well. i’m sure we will get more info abt this tho i feel like tammy loves the drama fjdskfh. also i love marian/clem lol (less seriously obvs but still) ever since that page in first match where clem was like “i think the winner deserves a kiss..” and marian really thought clem was referring to her LMFAO like. i need to know their History

My non-romantic OTP for this character: i want her to be friends with cyanthia so bad lol i want them to be useless lesbians together. also arnick i feel like they would bicker a lot but could also bond over strategy and being nerds

My unpopular opinion about this character: i think most people would agree that she handled the conflict with bella and clem badly in the flashback as a captain but tbh i think she’s still handling it badly. if she really went two years not talking to bella at all, not reaching out to her former best friend/girlfriend even just to talk abt what happened and try and resolve things a bit, it seems like she still waits till things escalate to the point of inevitability (in this case the final match happening) to address problems. BUT the whole thing was never her fault. she was like 16 when this happened and probably was too young and irrational to be handling a situation like that on her own

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: TALK TO BELLA LIKE MATURE ADULTS PLS AND THANK YOU i want them to at least be friends again soo bad. Let Them Interact

My OTP: marian/bella as friends or more... i think realistically their relationship works better as friends, and i do still like marian/vadelma but i would also like to see that vadelma was actually not quite as blatant in her preference towards marian and her dislike towards bella in this whole conflict tho

My OT3: still bella/marian/cyanthia lol

ok for the ship now. this is so long im sorry lol

Bella/Marian:

when or if I started shipping it. literally when toxink was introduced and bella’s bio said she had a “history with a certain blue inkling with glasses” i know im garbage lmfao ive been here for the long haul

my thoughts: ok. look. theyre not gonna get back together. but that doesn’t mean it wont make me sad (unless we get more canon info that changes my mind). it seems like their differences are too great and theyre too stubborn to truly have a healthy romantic relationship but i think they would still be able to be good friends after this whole thing is over. and it would be better for the both of them! they miss each other let’s be real

What makes me happy about them: friends to lovers and enemies to lovers are my two favorite tropes along with like.. morally ambiguous characters with complicated pasts. and they’re gay. how could i not like them

What makes me sad about them: they seem like the kind of couple that no matter how hard they try, it’s just not meant to be. if they were each other’s first love and they were best friends since they were kids i wonder if they ever thought they would get married and that only made the breakup that much worse

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: the only fanfic ive ever read of them was written by me lmfao. it annoys me that i don’t write more of them

Things I look for in fanfic: see above

My kinks: shhhhh this is a sfw zone. shhhhhhhhhh

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: bella/cyanthia and marian/vadelma (i already talked abt that above tho)

My happily ever after for them: realistically in canon they talk things out, learn to communicate better and eventually grow out of their romantic feelings for each other but stay really good friends for ever and ever. in my mushy unrealistic AU in my head they resolve their differences now that theyre older and have had space to grow without each other and they get gay married and adopt like 6 kids and 3 cats and a dog and i cry

if you read all of this i love you

#long post/#i am so sorry. holy shit #astro thanks for enabling me im love you lol #astronomyfortwo

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the-firebird69 · 3 years

Text

and mac daddy hyour spent...hyou have no idea we exist at all and the paralell is your plan only and Olympus was silent for atime while ou had your litle boy and still do shout at us and the youger one yell ad scream ad it is sad we do exist but find it trite you say ou demand we do each time like a spoiled little shit having toget the last word like jamie does mostly, young brash retarded man is what you are now mac daddy..you sound it act it order stuff they would go home downa nd orderquite different stuff adnow he says he is agry flustred about the chair thing...nd cant see who or how or why says he has it but we dont beleive and he willtry to replicate it shortly and we say gross prob will stink and says no i use plastic and encase it rough it up a bit...ad then issue false warratns for your arrest caa... so we issue them for you ad tommy f watns you dead for nam and you blame him to try and hault it furthering the damage we need you both out...nd we see we are the issue and problem uh duh our son says...as if ok your stupid...ok your dumb. fallformost tricks oursone comes upwith...and you are a meathead too. this is loser stuff but heck the macs want a war usingwhats left. Olympus ok ok we fry him there the...and more nd we want to. mac daddy you lost it old shit..your out i order it now and use tommy f and guess what, you sound just as bad at it as you are. now. you fell for my stuff and it was what buried you...and you wont shut up ad keep on hving me derive it and lose. it is corkies method you adopted. and it is inane sick stupid and losers do it.... Zues Hera it is that sowhat i use it..we fry you you sy and shall, anty threat he says reversed ad all you try of course of course. and i say o you cant, oh he says may or cant fine this isan old argumetn and im ont a gramarian we are sick of yuo typig arguing and leetting us hae it and so what all of earth is sick of you puke you say..fine we get tkew it and so on your fired mr a no your fired tommy f says your a punk mac daddy your both fired you useless tools. ad we advance and on massachusetts one last time. rip it out now all..and they shalland we hit boston shortly and when Posiden and Goddess Wife show up we go to town by then all is pulledhe made alist the fleet center the greenmosnter thenorth ed Raphael and Goddess Wife pulled the Southy area Arrianne and Nuada puolled and we are loset ancient gramarians, i got the billerica area ad westboro large chunks he did too, and im Thor and im Freya, we pulled it all adn it took minutes macs to your days..weeks years...andstuff....and we eed you to shut up you caused tons of real damage to your rhealm think you will win due to your cork son tellingyou how to divest ad re capture.. your anidiot now. go home cooloff your idiots revolted. on thier own arestpuid enough to ok. no saw it in wwii and knew they could you had them do it in the usa mil and had them drop bombs your own undoing...so shutup ok loser. yes shut it ok dorks..go eat up a drakes cakes box and kahlua and milk leave meout of it or else....simply put you never make it here. Thor Freya Zues Hera we do that drakes cakes and khalua and he and i talk abou ti and bja and bg and other there are losers herethat are tremendous and we cannot hld it. oh boy im psychologically afraid let me see how bout a lightning bolt in flroida it is as rare as a monarch fn butterfly now you kids listen to it ok...and hearthis additinoanl info biden hit your fleets byhand with his hands sying he is me thrym yells orders all day you see say it is me...as does loki...the others too even yourboys. hit you. and ou fucus on me like an ass and get directed tooand cork and bg fly bombs andhit yourstuff as do forgieners you inspired...it is mostly yourdoing. now you wanta fight i am defended you wnat to try try and die.y ou will...but for christ ske die like men this is pitiful... Zues Hera Thor Freya andw esee tryand die andok for yuo to say youcan kill us and we admonish you and more and what what yu say so fn what you r afriginiditost these use their hands andhold me and you hold me and hit each other i pay for it all fuckin no yousay your alunatic.i havepower you will feel he says and i rip your rhealm your whole world apart, yuo wathc yell like a baby ok..fine wesee yo upull all warrants right yeh of yours but we leave mine onyoutwo wonderwomen...this hurts bt we suck badly very badly. and billium areu p for the towers..and he says i dont hink so this is a lame talk lame presentation cuz you win lots...and we laugh we suck badly and have retards onto our bodies and yes..justin doestn like it has one in his head and so does thrym...not a tard but mutant. sow e see and you still harp on me off off out or else nothing..no change. and wonderful you execute my dad and grandad and think im faire game like achick and say it using a cat and your spoileddogshit... we agree withone thing your dead for telling and we say it i order hits on you obth they work now...tonight. dietogether hshits...guess what times up. bg fired up his engines i hear..and is heading to LA just now so f off sweeties wegettere first. oh no you dont oh you will not try here what a nice idiot gesture... finally we see your fast your faggots. and duck dont look mein the eye a re losers and bow to your tards and minorities and lose. so. off me i am not yours i am not your kind dog or slave i am of a different kind and you my freinds tommy f and mac adn other mac dadsy and macs told me your secrets outof a need to do a cork method it is shit...so i will attack you now...let me know where are yopr power centers you want to be mad...where d you keep stuff that works out with it faggots...no no not this come on dick sukcer you told meall tellme where can i hitt o chop your ballss offf lemme know i am just a kid...and oklahoma hahahaha no we arethere assinine queer we hit you before you fly...and blow upyour air fields ok strike one...good but not juicy ...your w himp and tell me crap as you think itworksdiddntdoa thing lets here where..ok so y ou can blame me..fine we see let me see itis iunder you we rip it out commonly...finaly we see it your there doing it...tie themup for us ok...ok we see it...your dead...mac you afraid, had your rtard run up say it to me ata gallop you afraid old mansick perv pickedin me my whole life idefended myself as does Father and Mother Hera too, you afraid havetosay imdead you idiot. fine your not but we see this is hellandyou make it worse hahahah i let you offno. you die nowmac adn yuo tommy f...there re hits on you Zues Hera

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socialpants · 6 years

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Infinity War is not a good movie

The action scenes are really good. Well done. Inventive. Good pace.

(gonna go into why the rest is not good under the cut and everything will be SPOILED)

The movie does zero to try and piece itself together as a narrative whole. It’s not meant as a standalone movie. It’s meant as the 1st half of a whole movie. And while the action scenes are good and the plot sort of starts to stick together coherently in the latter third of it, it still wont get there by the end credits.

Don’t get me wrong, by the time Thor was out there making his new hammer, I wasn’t spending as much time getting distracted by the internet but actually wanted to know how the movie was progressing, but the first 2/3 are completely wasted.

From the top:

- the opening scene is bad. Thanos intersects Thor and friends on their way to find a New Asgard and just off screen kills everyone. Everyone except Thor, Loki and Hulk. It feels like the script thought the Asgardians were inconvenient, so yeah, let’s just kill them all. Off screen. Then Loki acts badly, with poor dialogue and no one in their right mind for a moment believes anything he says or that the scene would have any canonical weight. Puff, he’s “dead” too. Heimdall is killed with a poke in the gut. Valkyrie is just killed off screen I guess. No one in the writing team cared about the previous Thor movie (or about anything much as I was about to find out).

- Banner is sent to Earth where he can’t hulk out anymore. Cue erectile dysfunction jokes. Because Hulk is his penis. Hulk is his sentient, completely separate entity penis. So that’s thing.

- Stark and Pepper are in the park arguing about wedding plans. They’re together now? Didn’t she leave him before? I don’t care. It’s Downey and Gwynnie. They’re having rich couple non-problems about getting married. Not for a moment are they anything relateable or other than Downey and Gwynnie. I’m flipping through the internet while they and Dr Strange get attacked. Spidey is there. Spidey is good. He gets well established through his dialogue within his 5 or so minutes on the screen.

- Wanda and Vision are doing couples things in Scotland (?). They’re the only couple that it’s created to be a real couple and who come off as Wanda and Vision. Good solid acting. you care for them as characters and believe them as people.

- Chris Pratt is in space. Dear god I hope the real Pratt is nothing like Starlord because Starlord is an insecure infantile douchebag. I guess he’s dating Gamora? they’re not a couple. Chris Pratt is annoying. I don’t care about their relationship or their bad dialogue. Mantis and Drax are relatable with solid communication. Everyone else suffers from Can’t Tell You Vital Shit Because It Would Ruin The Movie -itis.

- There’s loads of really clunky dialogue going on. Everyone speaks in very bad exposition and forced tension. When exposition isn’t happening, Benny Cucumberman is a good Dr Strange, Benedict Wong is good as Wong though completely underused. Because the script just wants to stuff everything and their cat into 2+ hours, it fails at giving most characters proper screen time. Instead it just focuses on fights.

- There’s fight fight fight. Vision is moved to Wakanda so we get Black Panther and Bucky involved. Fight fight fight. If you haven’t seen Black Panther, you will have zero investment on any of this as no characterization is given. Okoye is the only person given a personality with her body language. More fighting.

- The infinity stones exist, but what do they actually do? No one knows! Mostly they just go pew pew pew. Everything about them is very disappointing. To be a god, you really only need a bunch of different colored laser pointers.

- Thanos goes around being a cartoon villain just missing his fedora. By the third act, they’ve decided to give him a personality, but his motivation isn’t stuffed in until the last 20 minutes and even then it’s hugely at odds with what they want you to believe his personality to be; He just wants to save the universe from overpopulation by killing half the population very violently and causing massive amount of ecological damage everywhere he goes. Like... he also employs people who clearly just get their kicks from murder and torture, he totally wrecks the planets’ environment whenever he lands on one and aren’t the people he doesn’t kill just going to pretty quickly repopulate to the same level as before? THIS IS ALL VERY POORLY THOUGHT OUT!

- Oh hai Hugo Weaving! Why are you here? No reason. We just needed to get everyone who’s ever been in a Marvel movie to make an appearance. So Hugo Weaving is a ghost thingy that just kinda hangs around the Soul Stone. Why? There was a map to the place and once you get there there’s really only one place to go, with a single path to walk and it’s two gant stone pillars that you can probably seen from space so fairly hard to miss. So . uh.. I guess it’s a cosmic punishment to be the most pointless ghost ever?

- the Soul Stone demands you sacrifice what you most love to handle it. Which is dumb and pointless. Who made up this rule? The stone? The person who hid it? If you get a regular person wanting the stone, they’d never sacrifice a beloved person to fiddle with a stone, so you’ll only end up getting handled by murderous lunatics and the story ends up legitimizing their obsessive controlling needs as genuine love? That’s bad writing. Oh and of course Gamora is “the only thing Thanos loves” and she just happens to be there. What a coinkydink! thanos promptly throws her off the cliff. Sure didn’t see that coming! *groan* And by this point we don’t know enough about Thanos to care about any of this. We still don’t know his motivation. Or why he’d totally torture his other adopted daughter but man look at this little Gamora kid I took as a souvenir from one of those planets where I slaughtered everyone, I sure do love her more than anything! Because the plot says I do! (To Josh Brolin’s credit, I think he does a decent job with a piss poor script)

- Thor is off on his own little adventure trying to get a new hammer made. Only there’s just a single person left to operate the cosmic blacksmith’s shop where galactic weapons are made and their forge has gone out. It doesn’t matter. We still get the forge going. And it doesn’t seem to take that much effort. Even though “it’s suicidal to try to keep the thingymagic manually open” and Thor ”will definitely die if he tries”.Thor keeps it manually open for a wee bit and doesn’t die or even get maimed. Yay we got a new hammer! This sweltery is also the same place where Thanos’s little glitter glove was made. Which is funny that he managed to kill everyone there for no apparent reason but to be a dick, yet he left the very legendary and actual pre-existing mold of the weapon that can kill him totally alone. Thanos, wyd baby, no.

- Nebula escapes, which apparently was just a question of getting into a touching distance of a single guard. This also seems like really bad writing.

- Fight fight fight. Everyone acts kind of out of character, but it could just be that the dialogue is mostly very bad. Vision is killed, twice. Both times are very sad. Possibly the best moment in the movie. Good job actors. Then Thor hammers Thanos who dies and doesn’t and kills “half the population of the universe”, I guess? Wibbly wobbly timey wimey and he’s back to some sort of a farm house-meadow thing in the end credits. I dunno. Insert dust effects. There’s really no dramatic tension here aside from Peter and Wanda’s deaths. Everyone else just looks kinda like, welp, this sure was a movie we were in. Okoye is, again, the lone person reacting accordingly to their loved one turning to dust.

- End credits state that thanos will be back. Just so you know, in case you had invested even an ounce of emotion into these people “dying”, here’s how we make sure that you shouldn’t have to worry, because we’re basically only halfway through the movie. But you’ll have to wait at least a year to watch the second half. We just have to design new suits for everyone we bring back from “the dead”.

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cactirat · 7 years

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I know he's not the best, I don't expect him to be too scary or spook. He is just for fun. Also Trigger warning because this might disturb/ trigger some people Tw: Rape, Pedophilia, Necrophilia, Death Basic: Name: Jean Nelson Cp name: None Nicknames: Bat boy because his nose kinda looks like a bats because of how it points upwards, Teddy due to him living in the Teddy Bear Motel, Trix because he's just for kids. All names are given to himself by himself because he has a lot of free time Age: 17, dies at almost 18 Birthday: May 23, 1973 Deathday: April 7, 1990 Race: White(and he is also Albino) Sex: Male Sexuality: Straight Religion: Christian and loves Jesus, although he doesn't fully understand the religion and assumes he will still go to heaven, because he thinks that he can sin as much as he want because Jesus died for it, but thats really not the case at all. Residents: The Teddy Bear Motel c5.staticflickr.com/9/8316/292… abandonedkansai.files.wordpres… Located in Whittier North Carolina Hotel Info: The hotel was abandoned, and he decided to stay there because it was much warmer then his cabin in the woods because of instillation. Mental disorders:Narcissistic personality disorder, Intermediate explosive disorder Accent: Southern but he slurs his words, and ends up drooling a lot when talking. Prized Possession: A Taxadermied 16 y/o girl that he did by himself, She's kinda rotten. WIP character. --- Appearance: He doesn't look too spooky, but his actions kinda spook me Hair: Light ash blonde (whatever the fuck, just blonde basically) Medium length, although normally kept up. Its burnt of in many places on the face. Eyes: Cat like shaped eyes. They're green or blue, not sure yet Body Type: kinda muscular, pretty short. He has chubby arms<3 Height: 5"4 Weight: 139 lbs. Extra: he has lots and lots of burns.I cant really draw burns, they look a bit too fresh, I know. Due to the burns it kind of hurts him to open one side of his mouth, so when he talk and breathes and stuff one side droops and the oceanfox89.deviantart.com/art/… other side goes up making in look like he's smirking. The other side of his mouth can and does open though. Outfits: Too many. Like way lots. The jeans aren't really rolled up that high, it's stylized. main outfit: oceanfox89.deviantart.com/art/… Nose: He doesn't have any nose skin so he cant keep his snot in his nose and is constantly getting boogers and stuff everywhere. He can't breathe well out of his nose because of that and it gets in his mouth a lot because he breathes out of it. He smears it around his face, its gross. Boots: cowboy boots that are brown and black, with no spurs. Legs: (Thicc) They're kind of chubby, but it's really just odd weight distribution. He eats a lot of dog, so he's not starving. --- Killing: Jean doesn't go out of his way to get a kill, but when he does kill it is for sexual purposes, to get off basically. However, since what he is into is so odd, it doesn't feel like the victim is being sexually violated, which he thinks is wrong. How he kills in he normally bashed their head in with his hockey stick, or slice them with it. He will occasionally hang them, or make small cuts in them and let the victim bleed out. --- Fetishes: One reason that Jean kills is to get a good wank. His sex thing was badly burnt when they were attacked and overtime he developed strange fetishes that he does to his victims. Trigger Warning, but important info Erotophonophilia: Sexual pleasure in murder Necrophilia Pedophilia Piquerism: Pleasure in piercing or cutting the flesh Sadism Zoophilia: Animal fetish Zoosadism: Inflicting pain in animals, or seeing animals in pain. --- Personality: He's a dick. He wont talk to or go after anyone over 20. He pretends to be sweet and happy and pretends to not have much of a personality and be 2 dimensional like a cartoon character to trick kids into thinking he is fun loving and happy. He's really just a sad, perverted sex freak, who love targeting the weak, young and venerable. He occasionally will belittle his victims before he kills them once he's caught him in his shed or in the motel, and just yell at them because he is angry for no reason. He really does regret it, and it doesn't feel as great as it did. Misogynistic type( Hates women) Why have sex if it's no love?He's secretly extremely sad with what he's done with his life. Before it even started really. He's only 17. He could have made a family of his own. He knows he blew his only change at a family and love, he messed it up the second he got it. Nobody told him it was wrong, what he did to his sister. And if you can't fix what's broken, break it more, right? Likes: Children(in that way), getting off to dead people (in holes he cuts in them, not birth canals), Sugar Rice Krinkles, Jesus, eating flowers, staplers, NICKELODEON, the cold, wet pleasure of penetrating corpses, acting, being romantic, however his version of romantic is sick and twisted, exhibitionism, Killing hikers and fucking their dogs Dislikes: Hippies, because they annoy the fuck out of him, Victims who scream or bark too loud and hurt his ears, most people besides himself, loud noises, "kinkshaming", men Beliefs: He believes that killing children and bashing in the stomachs or pregnant women is fine to save the children from living miserable lives. He thinks its immoral to have real sex with women, because he never has, but holes he cuts into them is fair game. Strength: He is fast, in the short periods of time he can run, from practice he can swing his hockey stick well, he can climb, and get into small places easily, can fallow things well with his eye and rarely loses sight of victims. Because they're dumb children and loud animals. Weaknesses: He's human, he has human weaknesses, he has poor eyesight because he is albino, and his hair is also easily grabbed and pulled. He also has problems with running for a long time because his nose is normally clogged and he cant breathe. Also, because he is normally breathing from his mouth, he has a hard time sneaking up on people. He is much weaker then most men. He doesn't have any depth perception because his eye was burnt over. theme song: Yonkers Instrumental by Tyler the Creator and Goosebumps Instrumental by Travis Scott www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0ZQyr…; or www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQBw1f… (just for fun) but highkey inspired by Tron Cat by Tyler the Creator. www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kd3hxZ… --- Phobias: Androphobia: Fear of adult men, due to most of them being stronger then him Pyrophobia: Fear of fire Mastigophobia: Fear of whips --- Extras: Since the motel doesn't have electricity, when he kills an animal, he eats it. Probably died from tetanus or being shot, i'm not sure yet, possibly froze to death still my innocent little floof bby He's not gay btw He's all badass until someone attacks back, then he's a little bitch --- TRIGGER WARNING (just in case) This includes background Story: written by siner666.deviantart.com/art/Je… --- Short background: Jean was born and left at the hospital. However he was adopted by a "nice" couple that took care of him until he was around 7. However the the father cheated on the mom and the mom became angry at Jean and his siblings at the time. The people he had always known as his real family. He was taken away by cps and placed into foster care while his mother was evaluated. He was placed in a few more terrible homes until he finally go to Edmunds. They were a nice Mexican family. He had a little sister names Sarah in that family. He became very addicted to TV and his family got him whatever he wanted to deal with his trauma.They gave him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, so it made him very self absorbed. But he wasn't satisfied. Jean eventually fell in love, but he knew that her family would stop them from being together. So he kidnapped her in the night and ran away with her. taking the things they bonded over with them, so that just maybe she would forgive him. He was immediately found out and the town basically went out in a mob to go find him. When he he was found he was attacked, rather violently, because the townspeople much rather did things own their own and not with legal help, so they decided to chase them down and catch them by themselves. It was like an old fashioned mob. One mad decided too pick up a lantern but dropped it and it burnt the two children. He assumed he killed them The girl died but Jean didn't. When their parents found out they were devastated, they never knew he survived. Jean was absolutely devastated, the only person he could ever truly love was dead. He ran to a hotel, that had been very important to him as a child. Only to learn that it had been abandoned, which was a pleasant surprise to him. He and his sisters dead corpse stayed at the motel for the longest time until she started rotting, so Jean started looking for a new body. He found a cabin in the woods and camped there and killed any children that happened to wander in. And animals, and eventually pregnant women. One day he was strolling around in his little forest, and found some campers. A single dad, a daughter who was 11 and a son who was 13, and their dog. He snuck into their tent while the dad went away to get their truck.Jean underestimates how strong the son is. Jean assumes he can go in, kill the brother, and steal the sister and dog. He intended to kill him with a hammer he found in his motel. HE walks in and accident steps on the brother. The brother was SHOOK and immediately started beating Jean over the head with the closest object, a flashlight. He does it to the point when his head is cracked and bleeding out. the brother told him to scram, which he did, only to come around the other side and snatch up the dog and sister. Jean even this dazed and confused state still managed to run with them and climb to the roof of the motel. He held the dog over the roof to taunt the brother. The father came then. Seeing one of his beloved children in danger he climbed up to the roof with Jean. He grabbed Jean by the hair and dragged him down from the roof down the fire escape. He took the hammer Jean had, and grabbed wads of his blood clotted hair and nailed it to a wall. Jean passed out. When he woke up the father forcefully ripped him form the wall, scalping him and exposing the hole in the skull the his son made. The father shoves his foot in the crack and spread it more. Jean was basically having full blown seizures at this point. The dad gets the scalp and then he tied it around his neck and hung him. And finally tore the better part of his face off and left him there to die, even though he probably already died before. The thirty two year old man, Walter Hugo, was later charged with the multiple murders, and minor rape. Walter was sent to death row and Jean was obviously dead.

#creepypasta oc #original character #ref sheet #scar bby #Jean

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ask-de-writer · 6 years

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : World of Sea : Part 55

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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A cat’s paw breeze swept through the fog and filled their sails. In a short time they were clear of the fog and scudding north through the chop raised by a brisk breeze.

Finally, Tanlin relaxed, but only a little. She called to the other boats, “Wad t’ey nae look at our message at all?”

“No, Captain. We were driven back by knives.”

“One dead, three wounded, one missing,” they replied.

Kurin saw Tanlin crumple a bit but then brace herself. “‘Oo died?”

“Macoul, the helmsman,” they called back.

“T’e wounded?” she asked, shaking but dry-eyed now.

“Gemma Colin, Darkistry Colm and Lenai Halin, Captain,” they called back.

“An’ t’e missin’?”

“Bosun Modanet.”

Kurin tried to distract Tanlin from her grief. “How did you train Skye so well? I never heard of anyone taming a Wide Wing before. It was like he understood you.”

“But how did you train her so well?” asked Kurin, in genuine curiosity.

“Sorry, Oi’m upset an’ tellin’ ‘t badly. Let m’ calm down an’ Oi’ll tell ‘t better.”

“Did I hear one of the crewmen call you ‘Captain’?”

“What I would want is to hear Barad say that he stepped down voluntarily,” said Kurin almost wistfully.

The Grandalor turned into the wind, using it as a brake, to stop so that the party could board.

“What fortune?” called a light baritone voice that Kurin knew.

“She came wit’ us, Barad,” Tanlin called back. “T’e price wa’ ‘eavy. We ‘ave t’ree wounded, ane dead an’ ane missin’.”

“I wish that I had known it was needed,” Kurin replied seriously, bandaging an arm. “Captain Tanlin, this woman needs to go first. She’s in deep shock.”

Tanlin, who was steadying the first of the stretchers, said, “OK, Kurin, can ye ‘elp get Lenai int’ t’e stretcher? Oi’ll ‘old ‘t steady.”

Kurin placed the crewmen along Lenai’s still form and directed, “Everyone, lift at once, on my mark. . . Lift!” They all lifted until she was high enough for Tanlin to get the stretcher under her.

“Ye’ll lie flat an’ stay t’at way until we can take care o’ ye,” Tanlin ordered.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Darkistry replied with an almost impudent grin. As an aside to Kurin, she confided, “I never was very good at taking orders but I think that I’ll follow these.”

“What do you hope to gain by all of this?” Kurin ended her tirade, hands on hips, face set and angry.

“Oi’ve made ye a promise, an’ ‘t’ll be kept! T’is ship ‘as been remade because we see precious little o’ justice in t‘e actions o’ t’e Council!

“We are nae paddle ducks t’at ye can cut t’e ‘ead off wit’ nae struggle! We’ll fight for t’e rights o’ the Groit Law! Wen we can get a fair trial, we’ll submit t’ real justice!

“Tell m’ Kurin, w’at’s t’e second o’ t’e Groit Laws, t’e ane right after t’e ban on slavery?”

“The right to rebut charges. Everybody knows that. . .” Kurin trailed off.

“How can you send for Cat, or the others, for that matter?” Now Kurin was curious again.

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #World of Sea #Written by De Writer #Part 55

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