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tobswrites · 3 years

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Demon Au

Okay, so like listen, back in the Summer...or maybe not even in the summer, I can’t remember when I watched Inuyasha again, but anyways! I watched Inuyasha and these demon dogs and stuff got to me, so I wrote little drabbles for it, but it’ll never see the light or day, so this it in bullet point form!! Also it’s incomplete.

Part 1! Part 2

Bakugou follows his nose to large, dying wolf. Black fur, matted at his belly because of the wound the caused blood to gush out. The creature was beautiful, if the sun shined on it’s shiny coat there was a hint of red not from the blood.

He looked at peace like the wolf knew he would die there and here. That he would not escape death this time around, and seemed to have agreed it was time for him to go.

His wound is large, as if a man tried to slice the creature open, the poor predator became the prey, yet the wolf still won, since it will not be a prize for another man.

Bakugou’s own kitsune, red-tipped ear twitch at a noise, turning his head toward the bushes not too far from them both shake. The wolf himself has not yet heard the shaking of the shrub, meaning he’s letting go of life by the second.

A small demon appears, a troll looking thing, it inspects the black wolf, looking hungry, another comes out after the other. Soon the wolf notices them both, growling out a warning. Bakugou doesn’t believe the wolf has the energy to snap at the demons, but he won’t wait to see it.

As soon as he’s about to reach down and help the dying wolf, a demon who does not heed the wolfs warning, has it’s neck inbetween the demon’s jaws. It scares off the other demon, the demon is shaken in the wolf’s jaw, ripping out black blood before it’s thrown away to the side.

Bakugou is like whoa that’s cool that the wolf is still fighting. And if the wolf still wishes to live, then Bakugou, a kitsune cannot refuse him.

Though, that wasn’t the only reason Bakugou wants to save the wolf, but something else brought him here but the scent, it was like a bond pulling him towards the creature.

The wolf startles when the blond gets closer, but he doesn’t growl sensing that the fox deity was good.

The fox asks the wolf if he wants to live, but the deity doesn’t speak dog, but is extremely surprised when the wolf does indeed speak back. “It doesn’t matter what I want, for I already feel death upon me.”

Bakugou is like, fam if you don’t wanna live, then sure okay, byeee. But before he turns around to leave the dying wolf something pulls him back, screaming at him to heal the wolf.

So Bakugou turns around again, and gives the wolf an opportunity but the wolf says back, “To accept something from a Kitsune is like to be trapped in your class for the remaining time of my life.”

The fox snares, saying “I won’t hold you to it, I wouldn’t want a demon like you as my vassal.” because you know the wolf talks right? so of course it’s a demon, not a real actual wolf.

“Do I smell that bad? Am I not worthy enough to be your pet?” The demon laughs, shutting his eyes one last time before he lays on the ground.

Bakugou only glares, raising his hand and slashing it down once, he heals the wolf and that tug deep inside him stops bothering him. He did his deed and walks back to the shrine.

Years later, a man Bakugou is unfamiliar with comes to him to give thanks, but he reeks of dog and Bakugou is sure he isn’t human. Not to forget the man’s eyes are as red as Bakugou’s.

The man laughs when Bakugou simply calls him a dog, introducing himself as Kirishima Eijirou. Bakugou is annoyed, not only because this demon probably wants something from him, but also because he acts cocky, like he’s untouchable.

Bakugou asks the dog demon why he was there, Kirishima shrugs and tells him the truth, “I wanted to see you, we havent seen one another in a long time.” Bakugou searches his head for any recollection of the man or even the scent before him, but comes up with nothing.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember me.” Kirishima says, He takes a seat on the stairs that lead up to Bakugou’s home not at all caring how Bakugou might feel about a demon like the dog putting his scent everywhere.

Bakugou starts to guess what type of demon dog he is, but he’s wrong each time, or so Kirishima tell him.

One last villager comes by to pay his respect, but he looks frighten and scared, which makes Bakugou curious. Turns out the demon dog had his own intense stare on the man, aura thick with readiness. The stupid dog was guarding him.

Kirishima becomes part of Bakugou’s routine, he follows him in dog form, a redish brown kelpie with a busy tail and large erect ears. He’s small about reaches just below Bakugou’s knees.

Every morning the dog is looking out the torii, sitting and sitting straight looking for danger. Every night, when all chores and prayers are done with he’s still there, watching Bakugou enter his home. But Bakugou watches the dog run off into the forest when Bakugou is safe inside his shrine.

A year goes by and Kirishima is still there, Bakugou wonders if he should make the dog start working here too, fixing up old shit, and pull weeds. Keep him busy, but asking the dog for any help would be like offering a place for him at the shine.

So he stays quiet, and lets the dog sniff the air and look out into the forest or down the hill.

The demon feels too much like an actual dog than an actual demon, tail wagging and tongue out, he would sometimes stretch him out on Bakugou’s wooden floor, belly up as if he was asking for belly rubs.

To Bakugou, it would have been humiliating, but the demon dog was a lowly being, so it didn’t matter to him. Kirishima starts to get closer and closer as the days go by, and Bakugou even goes as far as whistling for him when he doesnt see him for an hour too long.

One day Bakugou asks the dog, “Why do you guard me.” The dog’s fur fluffs yp, before disappearing and leaving behind a human. Kirishima tells him it’s to repay him back. Bakugou doesn’t answer back or say anything else. Kirishima decides to turn back to his dog form and runs off into the forest.

He doesn’t ask the dog demon where he goes, he doesn’t care for him anyways. Kirishima comes back with a boar in his jaws, although his small size makes him drag the poor dead creature causing the food to be dirted up more.

The demon somewhat looks more happy and he’s more explicit in his actions. He rarely shows his human form, and Bakugou misses it. Kirishima acts clueless, like he’s hiding something but Bakugou thinks he’s too much of an idiot to be hiding something.

Bakugou too, can shape shift into a fox, but he feels more vulnerable that way and thinks of something else besides the tales of those that say foxes are tricksters and pranksters.

One day Kirishima actually asks him if he’s ever shape shifted into his animal, eating from a fruit basket and shakes and makes looks of disgust each time he eats a berry, causing Bakugou to tell him to stop eating them, but Kirishima ignores him and continues to probe for an answer.

“Rarely.” bakugou says and he doesn’t know how to explain to Kirishima on why. He feels more comfortable in this form than of that, but then Bakugou asks Kirishima if he’s ever turned into his true form. Not one of a dog, and not one of a person, but a demon.

Bakugou thinks Kirishima is going to dodge the question, but he answers truthfuly to his surprise. “I haven’t for a while, not that I don’t want to, just that I never needed to.”

Something inside Bakugou feels sort of happy that Kirishima is sharing instead of avoiding the questions, and even gives a request to see Kirishima’s dog form which he’s happy to do.

He obviously so cute, and incredibly soft. His fur is thick and Bakugou sinks his fingers into his neck, with the way Kirishima stares up at him, Bakugou is pissed that a demon can look this cute.

He takes a leap and asks if he could see his demon form, but Kirishima only whines in his dog self, and the fox doesn’t push. Then Bakugou does the unspeakable and asks Kirishima if he would like to see his animal form, which Kirishima is super excited for.

Bakugou shuts his eyes once, before opening them up again looking at the larger world around him. He’s a small yellow pale fox, large ears with marking on his face that cannot be hidden because of the immense power he holds as a deity.

“Are you happy now?” Bakugou can speak in any form, since he is a deity, and the dog before him twirls and jumps happily, climbing up the steps before nuzzling into the fox’s thick fur, just below his chin.

It’s a sign of friend, acceptance and trust.

I then wrote a part where Bakugou, in his fox form, was running in the forest, dodging rock and fallen logs, then stepping near a river. He stops to look into the shallow river and then he perks up at a sudden noise. Soon he’s jumps to another spot near the river, careful not to slip as a dog comes crashing down, falling into the river.

They were playing chase, Kirishima the chaser, and Bakugou the chasee in their animal forms. Kirishima shakes himself from the shallow water and sees Bakugou. He tenses up which causes Bakugou to tense up. Both don’t look away from one another, as Kirishima jumps back to the land, and Bakugou dashes off, resuming their game.

Soon, Kirishima finally catches Bakugou, wrapping his larger canines around Bakugou’s neck. The deity drops limp, he trusts Kirishima now, more than anyone before, and even if he feels the pinpoint of the dog’s fangs, he feels more safe there, than anywhere else.

Kirishima drops him and waits for Bakugou to start running again, since it was the fox that teased Kirishima to run and chase him, but the blond is tired and shifts back, staring into the sky. Kirishima follows him. They talk and laugh, pointing at clouds and telling one another what each cloud reminded them off.

So this was much longer than I thought, so I’ll type the other half into a different post.

#kiribaku au #Kirishima Eijirou #katsuki bakugou #kiribaku #kiribaku fic idea #Demon Au

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geeky-introvert · 4 years

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Kelpie

Summary: After falling overboard during a storm Hvitserk finds himself in trouble until he sees what looks like a horse in the water. Blacking out he then wakes up on the beach, and a strange woman staring at him....One-shot.

Word count: 1040

Warning: Near death experience and almost drowning. No pairing in this.

This is for the writing challenge started by @waiting4inspiration. It’s short and something different. I tried and hope it worked out.

Tag List: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish @igetcarriedawaywithyou @laketaj24 @darlingp @tephi101 @youbloodymadgenius @lordsexmachine

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

What was supposed to be a raid in England started out to be not what it seems. It wasn't long into their journey at sea that it was clear that the gods were angry at them, or someone. They ended up trapped in a bad storm, one that cursed the waves strong enough to flip ships, including the one Hvitserk happened to be on.

His brothers were scattered onto other ships as he wanted to take lead of the soldiers he had on the ship he joined, but came to regret that choice as the storm hit them and without warning they were swallowed up by the strong waves of the sea.

Everything was dark, cold, and Hvitserk struggled to reach the surface over again for air. The waves though continued to push him down further though, making it all the more difficult. His life flashed before his eyes as bubbles started to form, instead of air water started to fill his lungs which only panicked him more. It was getting colder, harder to move, and soon enough his vision blurred as a large figure appeared before him.

Suddenly he was grabbed, or something, he wasn’t even sure anymore. All he thought he was going to die at sea. Blanking out that was all he remembered.

As time passed, he heard the sounds of seagulls and slowly woke up to the sun shining down on him through the waving large grass over his head. Trying to breath he coughed up more water and turned over letting out a small grunt of discomfort with his hands digging into the sand.

The gods were watching over him. On some kind of blessing he had survived the storm and washed up on shore. But why? He didn’t understand.

Turning around he sat on the sand and took in his surroundings. He must’ve traveled a bit up a lake because the ocean wasn’t seen in his sight. Was he in England?

The sound of a twig snapping got his attention and quickly turned his head to see a woman hiding in the thicket in the water, her hazel eyes staring blankly at him.

Hvitserk wanted to say something, anything, but the woman slowly stood up and looking at her more he noticed she was naked and seaweed covered throughout her hair. Though he gaze was odd. No emotion at all, just a blank stare boring down on him.

“Do...Do you understand me?” He asks her in Saxon.

“Yes.” Her answer was blunt.

“Did you pull me from the water?”

“I did.” Another blunt answer.

“Thank you.” He answers trying to give a soft smile, but it was hard with the way she stared at him. Managing to stand up on his feet then she didn’t seem to be bothered at all with the fact that she was naked still in front of him. But she also didn’t look like a normal Saxon either.

“Who are you?” Perhaps he could give her some clothes, some gold, for saving his life, a son of Ragnar. It was the least he could do.

“I’m no one.” She says before slowly coming closer, very close. Hvitserk’s brows furrowed as she sniffed him them like an animal would. She was a bit strange. “I’m still wondering why I saved you. I should’ve let you drown.”

“Well, you saved me.” He says with a shrug. “So I guess you followed your heart.”

Her answer was a grunt before her hand suddenly reached out, taking hold of his hand and the seaweed curled around his hand and dug into his skin, making his hiss and let out a painful cry while falling to his knees. He had no weapons, nothing to rid of whatever was hurting him.

“Listen to me human…” She hisses, sounding inhuman to his ears, before pushing him down and straddling his lap, still holding his arm as she curled the seaweed more into his skin, marking him so he’ll always remember. “My kind don’t let your kind live. All the others with you on that ship, my brothers all killed and ate them. It was a good feast for them indeed. I’m rare because I’m a female, this was my first hunt and I should’ve killed you, but I didn’t. It’s not because of a good heart though, it’s something else but we’ll never know for sure.”

Her other hand came up grabbing at his cheeks while she continued to study him more, trying to figure out herself why she didn’t just let him drown and feast on him like her brothers.

“Don’t make me regret my choice.” She snarls lowly before finally pulling away from him and letting the seaweed leave his skin, which marked him, so he remembers.

Crawling back a little away from her Hvitserk gripped at his sore arm looking at the bleeding marks and up at her. “What the fuck are you?”

The sound of his name was then being called by those who survived, no doubt Ubbe never gave up hope for hil being lost at sea. She quickly looked in the direction before retreating back into the water, her body shifting and forming into seaweed and into what looked like a horse before disappearing under the water.

He didn’t understand what just happened as he panted softly, still trying to let it all progress through his mind and maybe understand what she was at least.

“Hvitserk!” Ubbe suddenly came to his side and embracing him tightly. “Thank the gods you’re alive! We all feared you lost! Come on, let’s get you warmed up and food. We’ll have to celebrate, brother.” He says proudly helping him up.

However Hvitserk was still thinking over the woman from the lake that saved him.

Many questions flooded his mind but he quickly told himself that it might’ve been best if they were left unanswered. Whatever she was, it wasn’t good, that he was convinced.

“Yeah, I could use a drink.” He tells Ubbe before following him back to where they made camp.

Looking down at his arm he stared at the markings feeling a bit anxious. They’ll always be a reminded to him of her, and that scared him.

#vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk imagine #mythology #legend #fandom #fanfiction #mythsandlegendschallenge #kelpie

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mitsususu · 4 years

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As of this post, leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) has 80 Stucky fics and is continuing to publish. Do you like fantastic world building? Enjoy fantasy and magic? Below are my favorite Top 10 fics:

“The Necrofloranomicon” (T, 47k)

Bucky didn't want much. Just to keep his head down, to sell his scavenged flowers in peace, and to stay off Shield's radar. His life would have been a lot easier if his flowers weren't dead and if being a necromancer wasn't illegal, but easy or not, he was getting by. Steve didn't want much, either. He was happy working for Shield, he had good friends, and overall his life was going just about the way he wanted it. Problem was, being happy with your life was generally an invitation for fate to throw a spanner in the works—and in Steve's specific case, it was going to be a spanner named Bucky.

(A love story about flowers, trust, and magic and the choices we make about doing what's right.)

+ Magic AU. Or, what to do when life gives you “evil” powers and you just wanna pet cats

-☆-

“Probably Not What They Meant By A Game Of Cat and Mouse” (T, 7k)

Once upon a time in an apartment block in the city there lived a cat named Bucky and a mouse named Steve.

Everyone knows cats and mice can't be friends. But Bucky's not a normal cat: he's a witch's familiar and a damn good one (just ask him). And Steve's not a normal mouse. He's...well, he's Steve.

This is their story.

(Contains many true mouse facts for your edification.)

+ Animals AU. They’re small but their hearts are big

-☆-

“If Wishing Made It So” (T, 29k)

Modern Winter Soldier AU where Bucky is a genie who became HYDRA's Asset.

When HYDRA found the Tesseract they also found a genie in a bottle. Knowing a genie's wishes are a trap that will turn and bite you, they used the power of the Tesseract to enslave the genie. It cost them three wishes but it bought them an Asset with power greater than any human and for 70 years they used him to work HYDRA's will on the world.

Until they lost him.

His bottle washes up on a beach and he's found by a new Master, Steve Rogers. Steve, horrified at having absolute power over someone, has a very different approach to being in control of a genie. While Bucky waits for his new Master to show his true colours they're trying to work out how to live with each other. Bucky doesn't trust Steve, Steve's friends don't trust Bucky, and no one realises HYDRA has not let their Asset go so easily.

+ Modern AU. Bucky grants unlimited wishes and Steve is Good

-☆-

“On a Pale Horse” (T, 25K)

Fast and fierce, the Horse Guard protect the Kingdom and its people, and they welcome anyone into their ranks-noble, commoner, or peasant-so long as they can ride a horse like they were born to it. Guard Barnes—Bucky—has come to the Kingdom's largest horse fair to find a new horse. He's supposed to choose from one of the approved horses; instead he finds himself buying a tall, skinny, angry stallion with the ridiculous name of Steve. Bucky can't leave him behind, but he's nothing like what Bucky's looking for and everything Bucky doesn't want.

But Bucky's more right than even he knows because Steve's not a horse at all. He's a man under a curse, victim of a powerful sorcerer's temper and magic, and he's bound to never, by action or deed, reveal what he truly is.

It's gonna be one hell of a ride.

+ Historical AU. Steve protec but he also attac

-☆-

“And There But For The Grace” (T, 46k)

Magical Realism AU where demons exist and Steven was an angel lured to Lucifer's side in the war in Heaven. After the war, they threw him down into Hell, no longer an angel, but a demon.

Some humans know demons exist, summoning them out of Hell to use as weapons. Desperate to escape Hell, Steven answers a summons only to find himself bound to serve HYDRA. When they send him to possess Agent Peggy Carter, the encounter doesn't go as HYDRA expects and Steven is set free to roam the earth.

Sixty years later, frantic to escape another summons, willing to do anything to stay unbound, he takes refuge inside the killer sent to slaughter the summoner. The killer has a metal arm and a mind like broken glass and Steven soon discovers he isn't the only one hiding inside of it: he finds the man the killer's body belongs to. Fragile and lost, the more Steven seeks him out the stronger he becomes, until the day he remembers his name: Bucky. Determined to protect him, Steven will do everything in his power to set him free and keep him that way.

(Chronologically, this stretches from before Captain America: First Avenger to a year or so before the first Avengers movie but has spoilers for Civil War.)

+ WW2 to WS. What happens when demonic possession turns protective

-☆-

“Black Dog” (T, 55k)

So long ago the details were lost to time, people began creating guardians of the dead. They were made from dogs, dogs who were buried in graveyards before anyone was laid to rest, their spirits arising as black dogs, bound protectors of the human dead.

Steve had always wondered what would happen after he died. He hadn't expected the answer to be 'wake up in the cemetery he'd been buried in', but here he was, some kind of ghost, and he could see the trees through his hands. It wasn't so bad, and he wasn't alone—a sleek black dog, golden eyes glowing bright, was happily waiting to greet him.

Decades later, on what was supposed to be a quiet, peaceful, definitely-not-life-changing walk through the woods, Bucky stumbled across an abandoned cemetery and into the impossible.

(It's a ghost story and a love story and a story about dogs.)

+ Modern AU. Ghost Steve, good dogs, and Bucky who just wants to help

-☆-

“Plunge” (T, 32k)

Steve squawked as a hand wrapped loosely around his wrist. He braked, wings banking so hard he almost somersaulted over himself, and surged up and away from the ocean, spinning to find himself staring at—

A triton was laughing up at him, sharp teeth gleaming in the sunlight. Steve had seen tritons before. He knew what lurked under the water. The power and violence wrapped in muscle and skin.

The triton's grin turned knowing, like he could see what Steve was thinking. "Hey there, Feathers. You want to go for a swim?"

+ Fantasy AU. Moving on from your past and finding your place in the world

-☆-

“And No One Can Talk To a Horse” (T, 17k)

Kelpies were killers. They lived in the water, drowned anyone who came too close. Ate them, most of the time. It was reflex not choice, like the kick that follows a hammer hitting a knee, because kelpies were no more aware than a wave or a wildfire.

Hydra knew about kelpies. It was why they'd come up with their brilliant plan to capture one and turn it into an assassin. But like so many plans that seemed good on paper it came with unintended consequences—in Hydra's case, the unintended consequences were Bucky and no more Hydra.

Steve didn't know that. Even as a sometime Shield consultant, he had no way of knowing any of that. Which meant when the sleek black horse surged up out of the water and didn't kill him, the only answer he could give to, "Why?" was, "I don't know."

+ Fantasy AU. Killer kelpie Bucky just wants to be a roller coaster

-☆-

“A-mage-ing Grace” (T, 18k)

Steve was a mage, not a fighter: he'd entered the tournament to face other mages. But when he had to face the Winter Soldier, he never thought he'd wind up being responsible for him, even if it was only for the time it took to get him off the Baron's lands. He hadn't dreamed it would lead to the Winter Soldier following him through half the kingdom.

Steve wasn't sure why it was happening, he wasn't sure what the man wanted, but for the moment he was willing to wait and see. He just hoped he wasn't making a terrible mistake.

+ Fantasy AU. A road trip AU if cars were hitchhiked carts

-☆-

“The Centaurs’ Tale” (T, 31k)

"You know how I sometimes call you a horse's ass?" "Yeah?" "It's a hell of a lot more accurate now."

It's the same old story: another day, another bad guy with designs on the planet showing up in New York City. But prepared as they are for weirdness—and Steve and Bucky thought they'd seen and suffered it all—neither of them are quite ready for where this particular tale winds up.

Or, to be completely accurate, where this pair of tails winds up.

+ Modern AU. A study on superhero public perceptions

-☆-

*More Leveragehunters stories in the Dragons, Mermaid AU, Vampires, Royalty, Werewolf Steve, Demons, Fairytale, Christmas, Handler Steve, and Asexuality lists

#stucky #leveragehunters #stucky fic #Writer Spotlight #fic rec #Top 10 Favs

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vesperlionheart · 5 years

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The Golden Bridle (1/2)

@ofhealinglove Hey, remember that selkie ask you wanted to see? I tried. It’s not selkies, but it is a MadaSaku and hopefully that’s good enough.

Sakura knew what it felt like to snap a neck. Some would say she was intimately familiar with the technique after a dozen decades of living cursed. She knew the pressure and swiftness required to cut a life short. The fact that the creature between her hands was only two and half feet with ears longer than her face didn’t change a thing. She could snap a brownie’s neck just as fast as a man’s.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” she sighed easily.

“Down, down, down,” the dirty humanoid creature chanted, fear making his eyes color brightly.

“The bounty, friend. You’ve been running for the wrong gang too many years and now it’s time to pay up.” Sakura eased her thumbs up over the sides of the brownie’s face. Her smile turned cruel. “So, pay.”

The chittering pitched higher as the creature panicked, but Sakura didn’t flinch. It scratched and flailed but she didn’t move. Her hold was iron for as long as it needed to be.

The brownie stopped fighting in her hands. A moment later the illusion he had been holding up melted away. Sakura grinned at the revealed secret passage, happy enough to drop the magical creature and let him scamper away.

Sakura let her hips swagger a bit as she skipped throat the ruined illusion, singing to herself. The room was familiar the way chain restaurants were familiar. Sakura had never been in that exact room before, but plenty of hoarding wizards had the same style when it came to decorating their treasure rooms.

Sakura picked her way through, recognizing some items for their magical importance, and others for their monetary value. Boots that traveled seven leagues, a short table that never ran out of food, a sack that held the calvary of a long dead kingdom…yes, she recognized a good number of the items.

“He’s terrible,” Sakura sighed aloud. “No wonder the bounty is so high. This stuff belongs to….” Sakura started to count off names in her head and frowned when she only came up with six. “Well, I know where most of it goes. Too bad only one person was willing to pay me for it.”

Not caring for the older collectors who had suffered theft and were unwilling to contract her to retrieve their stolen items, Sakura made her way through the mounds of loot until she found the diamond encrusted egg that hid the spirit of a wizard caught scrying on someone he shouldn’t have. The poor wizards’s wife was only too willing to fund anyone competent enough to retrieve her scatterbrained husband.

“And now to take something for myself,” Sakura mused aloud, pocketing the egg and staring out across the room for something interesting. It was a habit, to always pinch a little extra in case the employer renegade on payment. That hadn’t happened in years, but the ritual stuck.

Sakura came across a corner that reeked of abjuration magic.

“This is either terrible or wonderful,” Sakura breathed, cracking open a chest and reaching inside.

Her hand hit something soft and warm. She grabbed it tight and yanked it free, unfolding a gray seal skin that still smelled like the sea. A Selki’s pelt.

“Not worth much,” she huffed aloud, shouldering it to look again inside the chest.

She felt the cold touch of magic and yanked on what felt like a rope. A golden lead followed her hand out, but instead of attaching to a bridle, the lead unwound endlessly, indicating that the creature on the other end was miles away, doing the master’s bidding.

She took both the golden lead and the pelt, but also helped herself to a magic mirror that showed the past ‘through the eyes of the lowest among us.’ Sakura guessed by the etching of the rats on the back, what sort of vantage the mirror would offer.

With her bounty in toe, Sakura set off to collect her payment from a grieving wife and then deal with her own business. She was sure in time she’d be able to find the owner of the seal skin, but the easiest thing to do next would be to follow the golden lead and see where it ended.

So that’s what she did.

With the money from her recovery and the seal pelt both locked safely away, Sakura found the free time to follow the never ending lead as it took her from city to town, to village, to the dark moor of a fallen fae king. The muck came up to her ankles, but she walked on top of most of it, kicking her way through in her wet boots until the lead ended.

Sakura whistled low and snapped her wrist, sending a ripple down the length of gold until it smacked the side of the malnourished beast of burden. She had seen ponies and she had seen workhorses, but a Kelpie was neither of those things.

The black water horse looked up at her through a shaggy tangle of even darker hair, with red eyes too dim to scare even children. Sakura could count his ribs for how far they stood out and it made her grimace. There were scars around his fetlocks, criss crossing all the way up to his knees. The scars made her gut roll.

Sakura hopped off the lip of a grass mound and began to wade through the shallow waters, too low to drown in. When she was close enough the Kelpie drew his head back and whined low. In spite of the torture, his eyes were back to burning red when he saw who she was.

“You’re not him,” he rumbled. His voice was ancient and echoed of a time before the fae fell pray to men’s magic. He was one of the old monsters, she guessed.

“I’m not, but I have his magic bridle because I’m more powerful and better looking. My name’s Sakura. Who are you?”

The dark horse glanced down at the gold lead coiled up in her hand and bowed his head, glaring up resentfully through his bangs. “I am Madara. What do you wish of me…master?”

Sakura made a sour face, scrunching up the skin around her mouth and nose. “Ew. No, none of that. Quit it, I’m not like that bastard. Just stay still for now and don’t try to eat me because it won’t go well for you if you try. Hang on…”

Sakura closed the distance between them and reached up for where the bridle latched together. There were two places she had to open, but once they were loose she pulled the rest down off his long face. The golden lead dissolved from the extinguished magic and Sakura cradled the rest of the bridle in both hands, holding it while the gold light of its enchantment dimmed.

“There,” Sakura breathed. “All better?”

The Kelpie had been painfully still since she first reached for his face, but even after dragging the bridle off he stayed like stone. The one eye she could see was blown wide, and the whites around the dancing red pupil made her think he was in shock.

Sakura brushed the hair of his face back, combing with her nails and dragging them through the muck that still clung to him. She tisked at the filth and snapped her wrist to fling it off her fingers.

“He really didn’t even try to take care of you, did he? I’m sure you’ll do better,” she said.

Sakura stepped back and threw the bridle over her shoulder. There were enough grassy patches to pick her way up the slope that lead back to the footpath she had followed. It had taken her the better part of a day to follow the lead, but she didn’t tire like other humans, so she didn’t mind it when she realized it would be past midnight before she saw the lights of man’s world.

“Wait!”

Sakura looked back and saw the Kelpie had finally moved.

“You, what do you want of me?” he asked, sounding almost frantic.

“Try not to eat any children I guess. Someone will come to kill you if you go back to drowning humans, but there is plenty to feed on in the fae wilds.” Sakura snapped her fingers and then made her hand into a gun shape that she wagged in his direction. She paired the gesture with a sloppy, lazy smile. “That’s just some free advice though.”

“You can’t command me anymore. Why are you telling me this?” He stomped a single hoof, still sounding agitated. There was frantic magic all around him too.

“I just told you, silly, its free advice not a command. I knew what I was doing when I took this off of you. I’m not stupid,” she scoffed.

His eyes were still wide. “Then why?”

Sakura didn’t like the way he watched her, so she turned around and started to head back. When she answered it was a shout over her shoulder. “I don’t like seeing things chained up. Don’t think too much about it.” She waved a hand up in the air, hoping he saw it. “Have a happy life!”

He didn’t follow her, though she heard him climb out of the mud pit and stamp around on the road behind her for a ways. Eventually he stopped before the moors could, and let her go through the mists that uncurled around dusk. It was nearly dawn by the time she made it back to the apartment and by then she was barely awake enough to shower and dress for bed.

She fell asleep just before dawn and slept until noon.

Hunger was what eventually drove her out of bed. With her refrigerator empty, she forced herself to dress and sniff out enough human money for a good meaty midday meal from her favorite pub down the street.

It was a dark day outside, but she didn’t mind the shade the way some others did. Before she could make it to the pub the rains rolled in and she ended up nearly drenched by the time she arrived.

“No umbrella?” the owner laughed at her, face red with cheer and ale.

“Who owns an umbrella?” Sakura snapped back, shedding her jacket and snapping most of the rain water from it before hanging it up by the door. “I was told you just needed to dodge the raindrops.”

“Then what happened to you little miss?” he laughed back, already pouring her a frothing stout to go along with her meal. There was bread ready for her to butter next to her usual seat at the bar.

“I didn’t see the point in it, since I figured I was coming here to get sloshed anyway.”

Someone at the far end of the bar raised his stein and laughed, saluting her before staining his beard with froth. The pub owner chuckled and dipped away to prepare her chicken the way she liked it.

Sakura leaned back and tore through the bread, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to fill her, but loving the taste of it all the same. There was a television mounted up in the back with football reruns playing. It was still exciting enough to entertain a few of the regulars.

Sakura did a sweep of the room, noting only a few new faces. Most everyone else was a regular. Some seemed to live at The Angel’s Trumpet Pub and Meals.

One of the faces belonged to someone she had never seen before, and that was rare because Sakura was just paranoid enough to spend whole days watching the world through pub windows until she was sure she had memorized enough of the township to tell locals apart from interlopers. Sakura drank deep and then called for a second once her first mug ran dry.

Her plates of food came out, one after the other, and she ate through the first one before she noticed the staring of the stranger. Yamato was working behind the counter so she waved him down and then asked him for a pale ale to be served at the stranger’s table. If he knew who it came from she’d risk an encounter. If he didn’t…well, it wasn’t like she was worried or anything.

She was halfway through her second plate and fourth drink when he settled into the seat beside her. Sakura drank deep and then reached for another roll before sliding the empty basket down to Yamato’s end to fill up again. She tore open the biscuit with her teeth and watched the dark stranger.

He was taller than her, like most men were, with wild black hair barely braided back. His eyes were just as dark as the rest of him and his clothes were timeless trousers and a loose white shirt rolled up his forearms enough to expose the criss crossing scars.

“Oh, you,” Sakura breathed, feeling some of the lingering tension ease out. “Human you. Hey, nice look.”

Madara inclined his head and the picked up the ale, gesturing to it before taking a long pull. When he set it back down half of it was gone.

Sakura whistled low.

“What’s brought you out into the people places?” Sakura teased. She bit off another chunk of her roll. “I thought you’d be eager to see the wilds. There’s nothing keeping you back is there?”

She asked it like a question but it really wasn’t a question. The enchantment was null and void, but Madara had been a prisoner for so long, he probably forgot what it felt like to be free.

“I am considering it. I had some other matters of business to attend to and a few questions I was hoping you could answer,” Madara said, watching her.

Sakura finished her last roll and reached for her drink. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

“The magician you took the bridle from. He….?”

Sakura made a gesture with her finger under her throat and then winked. “You won’t have to worry about him. It’s just his hold out minions who are a pain in the ass. You not worried about them, are ya?”

Madara shook his head slowly.

“What else can I help you with?”

“The bridle, how did you come to possess it?” Madara asked.

“It wasn’t doing him any good where it was. I was looking for something else but after I found it I picked up a few other trinkets for myself and I have….issues? Yeah, I guess you could call them issues. No yeah, I have issues with binding magic like yours so I picked up the bridle when I found it and then just followed it to you.”

“Why?”

Sakura made a face like she didn’t understand the question, so Madara leaned forward and asked again.

“Why did you bother to free me?”

“Why not?”

He blinked, pulling back to see her better. Sakura skipped over the fork and picked at the chicken with her fingers and tore through it the same way she tore through her bread, not caring if he saw her make a mess.

“You are an odd human,” he finally concluded.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“You know I am dangerous. You would say I am a monster, no?”

Sakura rolled her eyes, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist as she leaned back on her stool. “Sure, yeah, I guess I can agree with that. Your kind has been known to eat kids, on occasion, but that’s rare, from what I know. You prefer animal to human, yes? Can’t blame you for that. I’d be a hypocrite,” Sakura laughed and held up what was left of her chicken.

“You still risked it. What if I had been a terrible creature locked away with good reason? Would you still have freed me as you did?”

Madara was still watching her and his voice made her want to bed down and sleep, it was so soft and smooth. She knew it wasn’t intentional. She had listened to enough thralls and fought off enough mind altering enchantments to know when she was being manipulated. Madara’s voice was just pleasant and there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

“Madara.”

She called his name to get his attention. When she spoke his name aloud the Kelpie sat up straighter in his seat and went rigid. She thought it reminded her of how work dogs stood at attention when their masters called. Something in her stomach rolled unpleasantly when she thought how long the abjuration magic must of lasted. There was nobility in his beautiful features. She didn’t doubt Orochimaru spent decades breaking him.

“Look, the guy I stole your bridle from was a horrible guy. He was…one of the worst humans I have ever had the misfortune of running across. I’ve known plenty of bad guys, and he was one of the worst. There’s nothing good that comes from shackles and slavery. Even if you had been the world’s worst monster, I would have wanted to free you, even if just to kill you. It’s just who I am. It’s my epic flaw, if you will,” she laughed. “If I’m free to do as I please, I’d free you again, no questions asked.”

“But…why?”

His eyes were full of questions, but they all hinged on that single word.

Sakura drained what was left of her drink and reached into her pockets for the thick wad of bills. She counted out enough to be generous for both her portion and Madara’s.

“Look, it’s just who I am, friend. Don’t think too much about it.”

Sakura threw the bills down and grabbed what was left of her chicken to swallow whole, bones and all. Her eyes gleamed bright for a moment more before she exhaled comfortably. Madara turned in his seat to watch her as she headed towards the door. She waved her hand up in the air behind her. “Have a happy life.”

She didn’t know if he would be at the Angel’s Trumpet if she went back, but Sakura didn’t risk it for the next week as she ran back and forth, paying favor for favor as she tried to hunt down new treasures and clues.

Orochimaru had plenty of spawns that were still slithering out from the cracks left in his grave, and as strong as Sakura was, she wasn’t eager to wrestle with any of them. She heard that she had pissed off some of them, and they were even more of a headache to deal with when pissed off.

But eventually the days passed, one after the other. And then the weeks passed. Sakura forgot about the kelpie and remember her hunger.

It was raining again when she stepped in and slapped her jacket in mid air, freeing it from excess rainwater. She left it on the hook by the door and waved to Yamato at the bar, taking her usual seat.

Sakura scanned the room for new and old faces, but only recognized all she saw.

“Looking for someone you missed?”

Sakura cradled her head in her hand, leaning over the counter. Yamato offered her a basket of bread to pick out of, but Sakura took the entire basket from his hands.

“You’re too observant for your own good,” she grumbled.

“The trees have eyes,” Yamato laughed, wiggling his fingers in her direction while backing up to return to the kitchens.

“Go live in a forest, green man!” Sakura hollered. She bit into her bread and then swallowed. “And bring me a beer while you’re at it.”

Yamato reemerged a moment later with a plate for someone else, but got her drink from the tap before she could complain a second time. Before she could have the first sip, Yamato tugged it back out of her reach and leaned in.

“What?” Sakura growled, feeling more irritated than usual. She had stayed away too long, she missed her comfort food and was cranky for it. Freedom had spoiled her.

“Tell me I’m your favorite wood kin,” Yamato teased, holding her drink just out of reach.

“And why would I do something like that?”

“Because it’s true.” Yamato’s grin was suspicious.

“Doesn’t mean I’d admit it. I’d break Hashirama’s heart.”

Sakura grabbed for her drink but Yamato was persistent. One of the drunk regulars lifted his head out of his arms long enough to whistle at them before his head fell back. A couple more men laughed but for the most part Yamato’s antics went ignored.

“You’ve been terrible. If someone asked me what ungrateful looked like I’d show them a picture of you. On top of being a hold out you’re also unfaithful. Weren’t we supposed to be bosom buddies?”

Sakura curled her lip in annoyance. “I swear, I think I might have to decapitate you again if you don’t give me my drink.”

“I’d just grow it back,” Yamato teased, knowing that he could survive losing his head the way all Green Men and wood kin could.

“It’s still hurt like a bitch though, so hand the drink over. I’m hangry.”

Yamato relented and let her have her drink before pushing off the counter. “Fine, be that way. I gave you a chance, just remember that. The cook will bring you your food, not me.”

Sakura flipped him the bird and Yamato saw it, but he just smiled wide at her in a way that made her stomach lurch. He was a tricky bastard. What was he planning?

“If your food sucks I’ll never come back here,” Sakura hollered down the bar.

Yamato laughed. “As if you could.”

Sakura tore into a new roll and then drank deep from her beer. She and Yamato had known each other too long and been through too much to get along so well, but at the same time there were few who understood Sakura as well as Yamato, who had been a child broken by Orochimaru’s mad schemes. She hadn’t been the victim of another human, but she understood Yamato better than most.

Which is why her stomach refused to settle.

“Maybe I should just chop off a leg this time,” Sakura muttered to herself. She tilted her glass back and the empty bottom greeter her. She set it down when she heard her dinner on the counter, excitement building as the aroma hit her.

But it wasn’t the food she noticed first.

“Oh, it’s you!” she exclaimed, leaning back. His memory came to her mind a second later. “Madara, right?”

The newly freed Kelpie was wearing a chief’s uniform and had his hair braided back more neatly than the last time she remembered seeing him.

He spoke with an easy smile. “You remembered my name, Sakura.”

“Hang on, something is more important right now,” Sakura exclaimed.

He went still to watch her as Sakura tugged her steak closer to stab at it with her fork and knife. She cut a piece away, watching him wearily as she chewed. A second later her serious expression melted into a smile and she nodded.

“Okay, now we can talk. You made a good steak, I don’t have to hate you.”

His eyes seemed to twinkle as the corners creased along with his smile. “That would have been unfortunate. I might have lost my job here if I couldn’t prepare a decent steak.”

“It’s more than just decent. You’re not in any danger,” Sakura said before taking another forkful. “So what are you doing here, other than making decent steak?”

“Apparently one needs money in order to afford goods and services in this world.”

“Sucks, man,” Sakura sighed. “But aside from that, what are you still doing on this side? You could cross over to the fae wilds, can’t you? That place is pretty desolate, you wouldn’t have to worry too much about if you went all natural over there.”

“But you live here,” he said. “In this world.”

Sakura nodded. “Yeah,I do, but this is where most humans live. I’m a badass, but I’m not anything extra special when it comes to species.”

Madara nodded along, watching her while she ate. “I realized that pretty early on. I was curious why you would encourage me to travel to the fae realms. You didn’t seem the type to enjoy trapping into realms not suited to your kind.”

He couldn’t have known about her past, so she chose not to bristle at the suggestion.

“I avoid the fae places almost enterally if I can help it,” she laughed. “I’ve spent enough lifetimes over there to grow sick of it, trust me. Plus, the food and drink are incomparable. Have you had much human food yet? It has real taste!”

Madara offered to take her glass for a refill and she happily passed it off for him. He spoke while operating the tap. “I’ve enjoyed much of what I’ve tried so far. I don’t think it will be hard to adapt to life here. You enjoy this pub, don’t you?”

“I love it. I’ve been coming here for years. You’re lucky to have a job in such a fun place. If Yamato ever gives you too much trouble tell me and I’ll throttle him for ya.”

Her words made him laugh as he handed her drink back over. Sakura accepted it with a nod of thanks and a salute before tipping it back to wash her throat. She wondered if he would be heading back into the kitchens soon, or if he was on break, since he didn’t look like he had any intention of leaving.

“He’s been nothing but amicable,” Madara assured her, referring to Yamato.

“Well, at least he’s nice to one of us!” Sakura hollered. From across the room Yamato hear her and looked up. His smile was wide and far too devious for her liking. She flipped him off again and then took another drink. “The cheep bastard is just a right asshole to me most of the time.”

“I was under the impression that Yamato thought highly of you. He shared with me some stories about how you know each other. You were very helpful in liberating him and his kind at one point.”

Sakura blinked before it occurred to her that Madara and Yamato shared a common enemy. Madara had been trapped by the golden bridle found in Orochimaru’s belonging, while Yamato had been the result of a direct experiment involving humans and wood kin magic. Both men must have been able to bond over their hatred of Orochimaru.

“I hope he didn’t tell you too many stories about me,” Sakura groaned. “He must have bored you.”

“No, I asked specifically for more information on the human that saved me and he didn’t ask for anything in return. You just left and I thought I could work here and wait until you came back, but that was many days ago now.”

Sakura took a bread roll and used it to wipe up what was left of her meat’s juices. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you still had questions for me. I guess I could have been more helpful if you really do plan on living in the human’s realm.”

“Well, this is where you live,” Madara said, sounding like it was the most obvious thing in the world to comment on. He pat at something at his waist and then reached into the pocket of his pants. “But it was good that you stayed away so long, I think, since this took a while to earn.”

“Oh?” Sakura was puzzled by what Madara seemed to be implying. In the far corner Yamato was wiping down at table while watching them. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle and it irked her.

“Here, this is for you,” Madara said, setting a small velvet box on the counter.

Sakura wiped her hands on her jeans under the bar, frowning at the box. It looked familiar but she couldn’t tell from where. It wouldn’t be the first time a freed or rescued creature thanked her with a token, but the box was weirding her out.

When she glanced up at Madara he seemed too transfixed on her every movement, watching her with midnight black eyes that sparkled like something from a distant midnight.

Sakura reached for the box and cracked it open. It unfolded to show off a pretty gold band with a diamond in the center. It made her stomach flip when she recognized it.

“Madara, this is an engagement ring,” she chuckled nervously. Yamato was in the back, watching with the widest smile imaginable. “This is too much.”

“I thought it would be appropriate to do things according to human customs as well, since you are also human.” Madara’s smile spread and the twinkling of his eyes was almost boyish. “I didn’t know that there was such a thing until Yamato told me.”

Sakura didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or scream, but she knew her neck was itchy and her face was hot as the handsome kelpie creature watched her with an intensity that was all too recognizable. “But Madara, this is-this isn’t appropriate for a thank you. This is something you get for someone you want to marry.”

“I know that now. I had been wondering why you didn’t come back and I worried it was something I had missed, but Yamato explained all the customs to me. They’re a little different from Kelpi custom, but you don’t have to worry about those anymore. You already gave me my freedom so there’s nothing else to do.”

Sakura could drink any old man under the table, but after only two beers she was starting to feel the room spin.

“Madara…do you think we’re married?”

“Almost,” he breathed, blushing only slightly. “But I hope the human customs won’t take much longer.”

Sakura leaned back in her seat, away from the bar and the box with the ring. Madara didn’t look away and the intensity of his stare was making her feel like the room was the deck of a ship in a storm. Everything rocked and he was still too handsome to look at.

“I thought that was-I didn’t think you guys did that anymore. Only the really old fashioned selkies would-would still do ‘event’ marriages. Is this normal for kelpie?”

“It’s quite common. Potential spouses would try to bind their love or catch their potential mate, only to ‘free’ them from their singleness. I’ll admit my freeing was a little unorthodox, but I couldn’t have been happier with my match. I don’t want anyone else but you. I’me dedicated to only you!”

Madara reached across the bar and grabbed for her hands, securing her wrists first and sliding down until her hands were trapped in his. He pulled her closer and kissed her knuckles.

“Madara…” Sakura couldn’t find her voice.

“Don’t worry, love, I promise you we can take it slow until the wedding, but I’m so happy you chose me.” He angled his face so that he stared up at her through his heavy lashes. A few stray bangs fell out from the braid, framing his face. He seemed impossibly beautiful and she couldn’t help but panic as he loomed closer, shadowing her with the blush still high on his cheeks. He kissed her fingers again before breathing over them. “Don’t expect me to hold back from now on.”

Madara looked so lovestruck and in that moment all of Yamato’s evil grinning in the background made sense.

255 notes · View notes

monstartle · 5 years

Text

The Kelpie

Pairing: Straight

Length: ~2,300

Not suited for public environments

Decription: You find yourself at your grandparent’s beach home after your own parent’s passing, fixing to sell the property as it’s tie to you brings nothing but sadness. But when an old friend appears, he completely changes your view as he persuades you to keep the home.

Your family always took a trip down to the beach at the very end of the summer. It was mostly to visit your grandparents, who had a house within walking distance to a private beach, but it was also to wind down your summers with a positive vibe.

Eventually, your parents ended up moving into the beach house after your grandparents. But with your parents bittersweet passing, you inherited the house. You hadn't been to the house during the summer for years now, but you remember playing along the tidepools, spotting tiny octopi, and helping stranded starfish back into the water. You remembered exactly how the speckled sand felt between your toes, and how the sun touched your skin.

You smiled, imagining all the fun adventures and creatures you'd imagine along the beach when you were little. But now you stood at the edge where the tides brushed against the sand, deep in thought, gazing at the moon's reflection in the waves.

The absence of your parents weighed heavy on you. You didn't want to admit it, but you've thought about selling the property, thinking it would help you heal. Your best friend convinced you that maybe spending the weekend at the house would change your mind, but you were beginning to think that she would be wrong about that.

You were about to head inside when something underneath the water caught your eye. You froze, staring and hoping to get a better look. You almost missed the second time it occurred, this time closer to the shore, and when it moved a third time, it broke the water.

In the darkness of the night, it looked as if a strong, black horse had risen from the sea, but as it approached the shore, it became much clearer what the creature was. It's mane mixed with seaweed, and it had gill slits behind it's cheek. It's tail looked thick with muscle, and instead of hair, it ended with a tailfin. The creature was just like the kelpie you had imagined as a child, or at least...thought you had imagined.

"Wait," you said. "I know you."

The horse— sorry, kelpie stepped forward, and as soon as it's hoof touched the sand, it shifted into a man with long, seaweed filled hair and flowing garments.

"Arlan," His name slipped out of your mouth, like you hadn't forgotten about him all these years. "Is it really you?"

The memories came flooding back now, you two used to play together along the beach. He saw you trying to rescue all the creatures who were stranded at the tide pools after the tide had gone down, and he admired your efforts and befriended you. You both were a lot younger then, and now he was oh so handsome.

"I didn't think I would see you again," He began, embracing you with a hug. "You've grown so much! Look at how beautiful you are."

You flushed, returning the hug. "I could say the same thing about you."

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

You bit your lip and avoided his eyes. "My mother and father left the house to me...I'm here because I'm thinking about selling it."

"Oh, but you can't!" Arlan gasped. "You just got here."

The look on his face melted your heart. Being with Arlan in this moment brought back even happier memories that you thought you made up or even forgotten. It made the pain of your family's absence more bearable.

"Well, I'm staying the whole weekend at least. It'd be nice if we could catch up?"

Arlan's eyes lit up. "I'd love that."

You lead him up the wooden steps and into the beach house. Your take-out still sitting on the kitchen island from earlier that evening, but everything else was the way your parents and grandparents had left it.

"Do you remember the time you snuck me into this house? It almost feels like that now, almost as if nothing has changed," he whispered.

You smiled, remembering how you two almost got caught because you were giggling so much that night. Eventually Arlan had to sneak back down the beach before his parents had found out. "I do remember."

You both sat down on the living room couch. The giant windows open, letting the gentle breeze of the night roll in.

You talked about your schooling and career, you filled Arlan in on the passing of your grandparents and parents, and answered any questions he had about the human world. You told him about your friends back at your current place, and filled him in on funny inside jokes you had with them. You asked him about what his life has been like since you stopped visiting the beach and he told you about the fae court that he worked in. You marveled at how the fae world was intertwined with your own, yet so unnoticed.

"But, if humans and fae aren't supposed to interact and humans aren't supposed to know that you exist...why did you show yourself to me again? I could have gone on knowing that you were just a piece of my imagination."

Arlan's face faltered. "Seeing you brought back so many happy memories...I know I couldn't just be a distant thought to you anymore. I had to talk to you again."

"Arlan…" Your heart fluttered. "You're...not going to get in trouble, are you?"

"Nah," Arlan smirked. "Unseelie are supposed to kidnap humans, I can bend the rules a little."

"Have you really kidnapped someone before?" You gasped.

He chuckled. "Oh heavens no. It's a bit archaic of unseelie to do something like that now. Some fae still do out of tradition, but no. We have more important matters to attend to."

You both chatted some more. Your head was now buzzing with questions about the court and the unseelie. He filled you in as much as he was allowed to, promising more information in the future. But eventually, you found yourself falling asleep.

You woke up in the large bed of the master room. You stretched in bed, thinking last night could have been a dream. You rushed to get ready, scarfing something down quick before bounding out the door and heading to the beach.

When Arlan didn't come, your heart sank. Perhaps it was all just a dream?

But just as you turned around to trek back up the path to your house, a familiar voice sounded behind you.

"Going back so soon?"

"Arlan!" You spun around quickly and almost toppled him over with your hug. "I thought I dreamt you up."

He pet your hair in the embrace. "What can I do to convince you to stay? To not sell the house?" His voice sounded solemn.

You broke the embrace to get a better look at him. Then you turned to look at the house in the distance. "I... don't know. This house...while it holds great memories, it reminds me of death."

Arlan took your hand gently and began to lead you toward the house.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

As you entered the house, he lead you up the stairs and along a hallway until you stopped at the end of it. He looked up and you followed his gaze. It was the attic's entrance.

He pulled the string that brought the attic ladder down and began to climb.

"Watch your step," he said, looking over his shoulder at you.

As you made it inside, you looked around at some of the dusty, stored items. Old furniture and toys dotted the attic. Arlan pulled down a box labeled "mementos", setting it in between the two of you and opened it.

In it was a photo album, various medals won from junior sports, and other trinkets. Arlan grabbed and opened the photo album.

Inside were pictures of your family. Most involving grandma as a child, growing up at the beach. Then, as she grew older in the photos, grandpa began to make an appearance. The book showed Grandma and Grandpa's marriage, and then ended with the birth of your father and his sister.

Seeing the photos made you smile. "It's...comforting seeing that life did take place here once."

"And it can happen again," Arlan said while brushing his fingers against your cheek. It sent goosebumps down your body.

"Do you mean...you and... I?" You said, flustered.

"Well, I mean, eventually." He pondered. "That is, if you wanted to… with me."

"Oh, Arlan." Your blush deepened. "I want nothing more in the world."

"So, you'll stay?" His eyes lit up. "You won't sell the house?"

You gave it a long thought. "I'll stay," you agreed.

His excitement got the better of him and he pulled you into a kiss. Your stomach did flips, begging to release the butterflies that it held in place. You giggled into the kiss, not really wanting him to stop.

You packed everything back up except for the photo album, which you brought downstairs with you to place on a mantle.

Arlan couldn't keep his hands off of you after that. "Sorry," he said, wrapping his hands around your waist and kissing your neck. "I'm just so happy."

His kisses tickled you. "Don't apologize," you said, petting the side of his face. "I'm enjoying the attention." You breathed in his scent. He smelled like sea and spices.

You kissed him once more and felt your feet leave the floor as he picked you up and walked you to the bedroom. You smiled into the kiss, admittedly excited for what was going to happen.

He laid you gently on the bed, hovering over your figure for a moment. "Do you want this?"

Your fingertips reached for his skin. "Very much so."

He kissed you once more before trailing kisses down your neck as he unbuttoned your shirt. As soon as your skin was exposed, his fingers explored every inch. Fingertips met breast and nipple, and as he toyed with the flesh you found it hard to keep your little noises at bay.

He left a hickey on your hip, and then replaced a hand with his mouth, dancing his tongue around your nipple. His touch was driving you crazy, and felt as if you should return the favor as your hands roamed around his torso until your hands wandered to his hardening member. When you brushed your fingertips along the shaft you felt it twitch and Arlan himself tensed up. You brushed along its body again, hoping for a similar reaction, but instead he found his way into your underwear. You had been so concentrated on what you were doing that you didn't notice until one of his fingers met your flesh. The surprise caused you to grab ahold of his arm for support.

"So wet already," he whispered. It sent shivers down your spine.

His long hair brushed against your stomach as he stripped you of your underwear. His tongue met your flesh in one long stroke. You bucked your hips out of reflex and felt his hands grab your hips to ground you. He found your clit and began to suck. You never thought something could feel this good, and it was a good thing he had a grip on your hips because you spasmed and flailed as he continued to pleasure you.

Your hand flew to his hair as you felt yourself approach release. Your thighs closed in, and your back arched as you moaned his name aloud.

You heard as gasp as he came up for air. "Not yet," he panted.

He untied his loose fitting pants which allowed his now fully erect cock to spring to life.

Arlan rutted against your slick entrance and groaned in pleasure. You felt him ease in, buried to the hilt. "You feel so good," he sighed.

You could only moan in response, wiggling your hips to let him know that he could move.

He bucked into you once and shuddered. Then he slowly began to move his hips. His half lidded eyes lifted and a smile slowly formed on his lips. You couldn't help but smile back at this man you love, little butterflies rising up into your chest. He kissed you gently, petting your hair.

Arlan then grabbed both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders. You were taken by surprise as the new position allowed him to push farther into you. His thumb found your clit once more as his hips met your round ass.

"Arlan," you whimpered. "Faster."

He complied and bent forward to kiss you. You must have been making quite the show because he mentioned how much he loved the sounds you were creating.

All of the little sensations were building up now. That tensing feeling crept up again. You reach out and cling to Arlan as he continues to thrust into you. He too begins to groan, his thrusts becoming more wild. Your whole body tenses, and your legs bring him close yet he's still somehow able to plow into you deeper, throwing you just over the edge of your climax. Arlan feels you spasm around his member and with one final thrust he stills, spilling his seed. You both lay there for a moment, panting and enjoying yourselves.

He wrapped his arms around your body after you both cooled off a bit. He was smiling down at you, lost in thought, and nothing but love in his eyes.

You giggled. "What?"

"Oh nothing. I was just thinking about what it would be like being your husband. And maybe eventually what it would be like with a little one running around."

Your heart danced at the thought and while picturing little toes in the warm sand, you fell asleep in Arlan's arms. Happiness was in your life once more.

#my writing #exophilia #monster lover #lemon #kelpie #straight #posting this on mobile so sorry if the formatting is super wonky

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vldaustoryzine · 5 years

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As much as Shiro knows about the constellations, planets and other celestial bodies, Keith knows he’s heard it all before, only under different names and more detailed. Even then, he can’t get enough of Shiro just talking about space. It isn’t like his mother, who knows every spec on the night sky, every dot that leads to a memory of a exploration. With Shiro, those memories aren’t there and all there is are dreams and speculations. They’re wonderful, Keith thinks and it almost saddens him that Shiro has to leave before the stars become visible.

Meet Ahhuya, a storyline writer for the zine!

I'm Ahhuya, your usual tired social mess, and I'm really happy to be here! I've always had a love for antiquity and mythology, which also made me study Ancient Near Eastern cultures in uni. History and Mythology are big inspirations for most of my work. I've been writing Fanfiction for about 4 years now, this last year being mostly Voltron. I'm still thankful for the tumblr mutual that told me Shiro was hot and I should watch vld. She was right and I have no regrets of selling my soul to this show.

What is your favourite VLD episode and why?

That's such a hard question... but I think it's the Blade of Marmora. It's such a beautiful introduction to the Blades, Keith's dad and his heritage. And of course there are those beautiful scenes with Shiro as well. There is so much in it that makes me emotional every time I watch it again. It's one of the episodes I've defenitely watched more than 20 times.

What mythical/fantasy being would you be and why?

I'd love to be a Kelpie or a Neck. I might have a thing for dangerous creatures, and seeing that those are both connected to water, I feel like they would fit me pretty well. And since I grew up with a lot of horses behind my house, I really love the idea of Kelpies. Maybe horses are predators after all.

Favorite fantasy/mythology book/movie/tv series/other?

As I child I once read the Hobbit in 3 languages and that world still has a special spot in my heart. But purely mythology speaking, sign me up for some Mesopotamian stuff. I really love reading things like Ishtar's journey to the underworld.

What got you into writing/doing art?

I always wrote stories as a kid, but then stopped after finishing elementary school. My stories would stay more in my head or I'd focus on art instead. It wasn't until a vacation 4 years ago that I got into writing fanfiction. Getting straight into the culture of abandoning a WIP, it was the best thing I ever did. I haven't really stopped writing.

Find Ahhuya here: tumblr | ao3 | twitter

See the rest of our contributors here!

#ahhuya #contributors

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jeaneybean · 5 years

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Vlad the werewolf is way stronger than our entire party

probably combined, motherfucker leaps and shit with two humans attached to him.

Phase into town, with Wolf-Wolf (who has an actual name, but noone remembers it) pawing at his nose a bit, unable to keep the trail of Fyodora since we’d entered into a highly populated area. After Oz makes a quip about the church on the hill and if this were one of his mother’s romance books she’d be up there as they entered town, Nitahn heads up to the church with Vera and Oz in tow. Magnolia and Jake head to check the inns and park the wagon.

At the church Vera gets the heebie jeebies, and once she does a detect evil it turns out the church isn’t on holy ground. The head priest (who follows Brewstar the god of brewing and bad poetry) is evil, the altar to the kessia family is tainted. Fun stuff. While Nitahn and Vera fail at keeping the priest answered (and oz makes fun of them) They learn he hasn’t seen Fyodora or Vlad, though he agrees to show them around town (Read: Go bar hopping)

As they do that, Mags and Jake ask at the taverns to see if anyone’s seen the pair. With two places saying no Jake decides to gather attention by doing a performance, and while he’s doing that Magnolia asks the gathered people if they’ve seen Fyodora or Vlad. She gets a hit, and the pair of them head towards where they’d last been spotted.

Vera and Nitahn accompany Butch the priest into the bar while Oz sits outside with Wolf-Wolf. The priest drinks and gets more sexist as he drinks, and Vera inquires around if anyone’d seen the pair. She gets no hits, but outside Wolf-Wolf perks up and Oz spots Fyodora and Vlad. He sends a message to Vera, who grabs Nitahn and is like ‘we gotta go now’. They leave the bar and Wolf-Wolf runs up to Fyodora and Vlad is like ‘FUCK’ before bolting with Fyodora down a side street.

Vera leads the charge in with her first 20 of the session and choses to try and intimidate Vlad, telling him that if he puts a hand on Fyodora she’ll take it off. He responds by shifting into wolf form and grabbing onto Fyodora’s dress with his teeth. Nitahn goes to grapple with him and Oz casts haste on the party and Fyodora. Vera pulls out her sword and swings, critically striking Vlad in the face with her silvered blade. (Second 20 of the session). This pisses him off, but he tries to get away from Nitahn instead of strike back. Vera goes to the head of the wolf and tells Nitahn to pin him, then tells Vlad he’s got a chance to talk it out like humans or he can die like an animal.

Nitahn can’t maintian the grapple, and Vlad tries to get past Vera. A poor choice, because Vera attacks and crits again (A 20, confirming that with another 20, and failing to confirm triple threat. But still.), striking him hard in the side. Nitahn’s punching him and tries to get his good eye with his silver rings and rejoins the grapple. Oz casts oozing slime on Fyodora and has her smack him in the face a bit.

Vlad is now pretty pissed at Vera, and lashes out at her, attacking her and also tripping her badly (He crit his trip attempt, vera crit failed her save) and sends her sprawling ass over teakettle onto the ground. He jumps up onto the nearby roof, dragging both Fyodora (who he’s still got a mouth on) and Nitahn (who’s still involved in the grapple) up with him. He bolts. Vera tries to climb up onto the roof, fails, tries again, crit fails. Oz tries to climb a bit, then gives up and starts running after, with Vera coming after him on her turn.

Oz hits the people on the roof with two spells: the first one stuns all three of them and also strikes vlad prone (and also deafens Fyodora) and this alerts Jake and Magnolia to their presence. The second spell he uses is glitterdust and he blinds both Vlad and Fyodora. Vlad starts bitching at them in Rusk, and Vera tears right back into him with her horribly accented Rusk. Vlad yells at her for getting into things she didn’t understand and only wanting to fight, Vera’s like FUCK YOU I GAVE YOU TWO OUTS TO TALK and they argue for a bit before Oz is like ‘hey, the spell-’ and as soon as the glitterdust wears off he’s off, dragging Fyodora at his full movement speed since he’s not encumbered by nitahn anymore.

Jake has Mayhem chase after them via air and runs off, with a short discussion sending Magnolia and Oz back into town for the cart while Vera and Nitahn head off with jake into the woods. It’s team Impulse vs Team competent thought (with Vera providing the switch character, as currently she is livid regarding the werewolf sass) and Team Impulse uses Wolf Wolf to track Vlad’s huge blood trail. At one point Vlad steals clothes and Vera remarks that at least he’ll put on some fucking pants. They track through the night with Vera’s torchlight and Jake’s low light vision leading the way.

Meanwhile, Oz and Magnolia have bonding time (where their players went out of the room and had storytime with one another) and slept while continuing to follow the road southeast, the direction we’d been heading. (And towards the Werewolf territory)

Int he early morning Team Impulse follows the trail after an area that looks like there’s been a struggle and finds that Vlad had caught a deer and tied Fyodora’s dress to it and had slipped them up. They kill the wounded animal and have breakfast before bringing Wolf-Wolf back to the struggle area and track Vlad’s blood from there.

As Magnolia and Oz keep driving the cart they start seeing/hearing things in the woods. They urge the donkies on faster, and the donkies are getting really upset. Veli’s pretty upset as well, and when wolf-like shapes and red eyes get pretty close Oz casts haste on the Donkies and Magnolia spurs them on, heading down a lesser used road. Oz tells Magnolia that those weren’t wolves, they were worgs. Worgs are intelligent. They’re likely being corraled.

As team Impulse approaches dark on their second day int he woods (Without sleep/rest, because humans are pirsuit predators and they’re also idiots) Nitahn starts hearing things. He hears his donkies. Vera and Jake hear nothing, but after a bit Jake hears the noise too. Vera goes over to where Nitahn is and hears jack shit (While scoring some really high listen checks). She tries to remind him of the time that they fought the mimic and there was suddenly the skeleton, this might be a magical thing.

Jake yells out for Magnolia, and Nitahn calls out to Oz and the Donkies, with Vera calling out for the creature most likely to hear: Veli. They get no response, but as they go throught he woods a bit more they see a dark, tall creature. Through torchlight Vera sees a beautiful black horse. Jake and Nitahn? They see a beautiful black unicorn.

It seems friendly with Nitahn, but it shies away from Jake when he attempts to ride it. Jake is then like ‘we should kill it, no one’s going to beleive us’ and Vera’s like ‘it’s a fucking horse, what are you freaking out about’. The Unicorn jogs off, with nitahn and Jake persuing and Vera following.

Nitahn dashes out after the unicorn and into a road, where something large is barreling down the path. He hits the center spoke of the wagon and gets knocked down and ran over, with Oz and Magnolia being like WHAT THE FUCK DID WE HIT OH GOD and they stop the cart when they spot Vera and Jake running out after Nitahn. There’s a brief reunion and Nitahn points out the unicorn. Oz also sees the horn, Magnolia does not, but she recognizes that it’s a unicorn with a knowledge nature check. She implores it to help them because there’s a fuck ton of worgs after them. Nitahn touches the Unicorn while Vera yells at him tmo avoid water, apparently thinking it’s a kelpie and not a unicorn. (Vera does not know what a goose is. Vera knows what a kelpie is. Why.) She climbs up on the cart beside Oz.

The Worgs start howling and circling and up in the trees a voice calls out, saying that it’s pet had caught it another pure hearted maiden. There’s the world’s most steriotypical vampire in the trees, preening as he looks over the group and he kind of gets a bit knocked off his script when he realizes that it’s not the pretty blonde girl or the handsome dark elf or the strapping half orc or the roguishly cute boy the Unicorn has gravitated to. nope. It’s a big hairy guy. Vera cackles from the cart, and end scene.

VERA IS 600 EXP FROM BEAR

#The idiots do a adventure

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icewraiths · 6 years

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Shade

Another update on this AU thing skfjsklfjdsl

This has gotten kinda out of hand, lol--it’s not even really just the ‘kelpie AU’ anymore. It’s more like ‘the incarnates AU’ or ‘the aspects AU’ something, ever since I decided to drag Drusi and the other two into it.

Previous part is here.

The following morning was a disappointment, to say the least. The butcher refused to sell Renata anything--not even cheap stew meat. The rumors had apparently gotten to him. Unfortunately, this left Ren without a solid meal for the kelpie. She figured she was going to be on the outs with the mare for this, for sure.

She'd left in a huff and headed for the nearest tack supply shop instead. She picked out a pale blue rope halter with a pretty braided noseband, as well as a matching lead; the set cost more than she would've liked, but the rope was soft and of quality make. While she was there, she also grabbed a durable mane and tail brush. The mare certainly needed it, what with the atrocious shape her tangled hair was in.

Ren's final stop was at the cafe on the outskirts of town, where she acquired three sandwiches and four decadent pastries for meals and snacks along the road. She was down to a mere handful of shillings--she supposed that, once she returned to Valedale, she'd have to ask Claire for her job back as the stable's resident shit-shoveler.

By the time she snuck sheepishly out of town, the locals were starting to go about their daily routines, and most recognized her as someone who wasn't up to any good. She avoided their accusing stares and was very glad to be leaving the area behind.

The kelpie mare seemed happy to greet her, at least. She appeared, sylph-like, from the water's edge when Ren reached her corner of the woods.

"I don't have any meat for you today, I'm sorry. They wouldn't sell to me! They think I'm using it to lure wolves in." The young woman attempted some damage control. She hoped the gray would accept the sandwiches as a light meal instead, and she fished one out of her bag before peeling the packaging back.

The mare snorted as though scoffing at Renata's offer. She approached the girl, nostrils flared, and snatched the sandwich right out of her hands. The meal was gone in several gnashing bites.

Unsatisfied, the gray pushed past Ren, and started rooting around in her pack.

"Hey! One of those was for me, for lunch. Well. Nevermind." Renata sighed. The young woman wanted to rescue the halter and lead from her backpack so that the gear wouldn’t get chewed up by accident, but she decided it would just have to wait until the man-eating fae was done with her food. She didn’t dare reach her hands into the same bag as the mare’s formidably keen fangs.

The kelpie's eyes widened and she withdrew something from the backpack. One of the pastries hung from her mouth, partially bitten into.

Prancing around with the confection in her mouth, the pale mare trotted to and fro. She tossed it into the air before catching it; it was gone in a single chomp.

"You have a sweet tooth?" Renata observed, inspecting the contents of her pack while there was still some distance between her and the fae. The gray had been kind enough to leave Ren one sandwich and a single pastry. Carefully, the young woman extracted the halter and lead from the pack, not bothering with the brushes just yet. She also plucked the last pastry from its wrapping, knowing that the kelpie was not going to like the halter one bit.

Ren held the snack out for the mare, waving it as though it were some kind of valuable prize. She showed the halter as well, so that the fae would not startle or feel tricked. The last thing she needed was to lose what little of the gray's trust she'd managed to earn.

"Here, mare. I know you aren't gonna be keen on this, but you have to at least try to look domesticated. The ratty-mane look isn't helping us any."

The fae stared her down. Clearly, the mare did not approve of the halter, but was torn by her want for the last of the pastries.

Eventually, the gray conceded, and stepped forward.

Renata tossed the treat towards the kelpie and sidestepped, moving as quickly as she could to loop the halter over the mare's head. She tied it, fastening the headstall knot before the mare was even finished eating her snack.

"That's not so terrible, is it? I bought the softest rope they had," Ren said, trying to pacify the fae. The mare tossed her head and rubbed her face against her foreleg as though trying to scrape the halter off.

In the meantime, Renata retrieved the lead and attached it to the halter. She stood next to the kelpie, holding the leadrope and tugging it a little to catch the mare's attention.

"I know, I know. I see that you hate it, but we have to get on the road. We have a long way to walk, especially if I can't ride for any of it."

The kelpie shook her mane out, conciliatory but unhappy about it. Ren shouldered her pack and sighed. It was going to be a long walk--she could practically already feel her feet aching.

The pair of them left the secluded stream behind without a backwards glance, and set out onto the road towards Valedale.

Fortunately, they only encountered one other group of riders along the way. It was a trio of girls Ren's age out on a hack with their warmbloods. Tightening her grip on the lead, Renata quietly warned the kelpie to behave as the strangers approached. All three riders paused, asking why Renata was walking the mare alongside the road.

"I just bought her. She's very green. I don't think ever she's had a rider on her before," Ren supplemented.

"Why not take the trailers?" One of the girls asked.

I definitely didn't take the trailers because I am definitely not trying to avoid drawing attention to this perfectly normal horse that is most certainly not magical or dangerous in any way, Renata thought. She shrugged, trying to spin a plausible story as she stalled to respond.

"I spent almost my last shilling on her. I can't afford to have her hauled all over Jorvik," she replied, continuing without prompt. "I bought her off some shady guy. With a wagon? He had a bunch of greenbroke horses, and they all looked underfed and dirty. I had to buy her and get her out of there, and now I'm trying to get her back to my home stable. I'm sure I got ripped off, but look at her. I couldn't just leave her behind."

The gray played along, pressing her head against Renata's shoulder and looking as sad and pathetic as equinely possible.

"That's awful," one of the riders responded. "Do you know who the man was? Were the horses abused, you think?"

"I dunno," Ren said. "Pretty sure he gave me a fake name. I'm going to call in a report when I get back home. You guys keep an eye out for him, okay?"

The riders nodded, clutching at their reins and patting their horses in sympathy. They decided to continue on their hack, apparently, because they cued their mounts into a walk.

"Thanks for the heads up," the last rider said. "Good luck to you and... what is your horse's name?"

"Shade," Ren blurted. The other girl smiled at her.

"Good luck to you and Shade, then. Bye!" With that, the trio of riders trotted away down the road.

Once they were out of sight, Renata exhaled loudly.

"I'm glad they bought that. Come on, let's keep moving." The young woman tried to lead the kelpie forward, but the mare planted her feet.

Ren looked back at her, confused.

"You did fine, mare, they didn't suspect anything weird about you, I don't think. You put on a fine show. Very dramatic. I'm glad we played the pity card."

The fae still stood her ground.

"Fine, Shade, we have to get a move on if we want to see Vale before dark," Renata said, sarcastic. The gray tossed her head.

"Is it something about the name? I can call you something different, I just had to come up with something on the spot and it suited you. Sorry." The girl bowed slightly, hoping the show of respect would appease the fae.

The mare moved her little ears backwards, and then tipped them forward again. Her eerie pale eyes seemed quizzical.

"Look, I thought it suited you, like I said. I didn't mean any insult by it. I meant it as in, a shade, a shadow, a ghost. A remnant of something that used to be. You're the last of your herd, aren't you? It seemed fitting."

The kelpie nickered, making a sound akin to a woman chuckling under her breath. She dipped her head once, and then trotted forward, nearly dragging Ren off her feet.

"Shade it is, then," Renata said, scrambling to keep her footing as she jogged down the road alongside the mare.

They reached Valedale just after sundown. Ren was leery about being about in the darkness with the kelpie mare, but her fears went unrealized.

She managed to sneak Shade through the championship grounds; she knew that keeping the fae in the stable with all of Valedale's normal horses would be dangerous if not outright stupid. It was the off season, and any riders using the track for training had boarded up their horses for the night.

After successfully sneaking past the riding grounds, Renata headed for Avalon's house. The girl tentatively led the gray through the woods behind the cottage. Several of the lights were on, and she eyed each of them with scrutiny as she and Shade darted from tree to tree on their way to Vale's waterfall.

"All right, this is where I leave you for now. I’ll be back here to check on you tomorrow morning. I don't need to bother telling you to keep a low profile, do I?" Renata untied the rope halter and pulled it from the kelpie's head. The gray shook her mane in indignation--it was clear she was happy to be free from the oppressive headstall--before bounding to the water's edge and slipping into the fall's plunge pool.

Ren wasn't sure if she couldn't hear the impact of the fae hitting the water's surface over the sound of the falls, or if the kelpie simply had not made any sound at all upon diving.

She turned to leave, glancing once-over the area again to make sure they'd not been followed. Taking care to appear nonchalant just in case, Ren twined the lead rope into a coil along with the halter, and stowed them both in her pack. Upon shouldering the bag, she left, sneaking back past Avalon's cottage and making her way across the bridge towards town for the night.

#SSO #SSO fic #Renata Winterdawn #someday I'll get around to making an ao3 account and I'll post all of this there #someday but not today lolll

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triwizard-hq · 6 years

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December 17th, 2023 - 6:16 PM

It is only a hand full of minutes before the first updates come to the crowd of students. Adhara Rowle, Lunette Roux and Boheme Cinder, three young wizards from the Department of Magical Games and Sports have been tasked with announcing each champion’s updates. Adhara Rowle bustled to the small square in the center of the stands.

“Alexander Petrov has traveled directly into Praeligo Mist. For those of you who are not familiar, Praeligo Mist is a dark red smog that will choke any who finds themselves in it. Mr. Petrov has minutes to make a decision before the mist overcomes him-” a wizard rushes to her, whispers something in her ear and she nods hastily. “Alexander has decided to use the Impervius Charm. An interesting decision, as there is a great deal of mist. I have been told that he has been greatly weakened by the effort of the spell and has continued travelling at a much slower rate.

December 17th, 2023 - 6:21 PM

Lunette: “Brynn Graves has come upon a potion hidden within a tree. She decided to drink the potion and has thus far not suffered any negative or positive effects. The Invicti Team has obtained their first necklace. They are currently in the lead.”

Boheme:. “Moments after Ms. Graves located the potion, Hondo Kabweza did as well. As the liquid had regenerated, he had the option to drink it but decided not, instead retrieving the necklace and continuing on. Bellatores Team has obtained their first necklaece ”

December 17th, 2023 - 7:12 PM

Adhara: “Alexander was travelling when an erkling stepped in his path. He was offered three pouches containing three different plants. One pouch contained Henbane. Another pouch contained Baneberry. The last contained Mallowsweet. He had been warned by the erkling that one would give him clarity, one would poison him curably, and one would poison him incurably. Mr. Petrov chose to consume the first pouch, The erkling shot him with a dart infused with a cure and a sleeping drought. Mr. Petrov is currently dormantly poisoned and passed out in the middle of the Forest and it is unclear when he will awaken.”

December 17th 2023 - 7:24 PM

Boheme: “Hondo traveled into a particularly unkempt part of the forest, branches, roots and foliage so intertwined he could barely see. Roots secured themselves around his ankle and only tightened the more he struggled. Thinking the roots were perhaps Devil’s Snare, he risked the roots become more tightly secured around to cast the Wand-Lighting Charm, in hopes that it would be killed by the light. The spell was ineffective. At this point, a Red Cap spotted him the same time he spotted it and he chose to use a stinging hex which only succeeded in making the creature more angry. I’ve been told that moments ago he cast the Dancing-Feet Charm, giving him the minutes he needed to properly free himself from the roots. No word yet on if he has successfully completed that yet.”

December 17th 2023 - 7:32 PM

Adhara: “Alexander has woken up after 20 minutes to a Chizpurfle gnawing through his wand. His wand is still affected but may malfunction and will have to be repaired at a later time. The creature had a transparent shell through which Mr. Petrov could see a necklace. Instead of killing the creature, he knocked it out and carefully removed the shell in order to retrieve the necklace. Fulminati Team has obtained their first necklace.”

December 17th 2023 - 7:36 PM

Lunette: ”Brynn has stumbled upon a young wolf cub. It does not seem aggressive but Ms. Graves has drawn her wand and has cautiously begun approaching it. Thus far, it does not seem to be turning aggressive.”

December 17th 2023 - 7:42 PM

Lunette: ”It looks like Ms. Graves drinking the potion has paid off. The wolf sniffed the air around her, and seemed to be in a trance. It bowed its head and allowed her to take the necklace from around its neck. Invicti Team has obtained their second necklace. Her two necklaces have morphed to represent her teammates. One necklace’s chain is now silver, a small 'WF' is carved into the spherical pendant. The other chain is now white beads, a small 'JJ' is carved into a white quartz pendant. She is now being escorted to the final stage of the first task”

December 17th 2023 - 8:23 PM

Boheme: “Hondo has just heard two screams for help. One coming from the North one coming from the South. He believes one voice to be that of fellow champion, Fred Weasley, the other to be that of a close friend. He is oddly drawn to follow one or the other. Mr. Kabweza decided to track the screams of his friend opposed to his teammate’s. He is currently travelling North trying to track down his friend.”

December 17th 8:36 PM

Adhara: “Alexander has traveled to a part of the Forest in which is so dark he cannot see.While attempting to find his way back into a more visible part of the forest, he has fallen into a deep marsh and is barely staying afloat.”

December 17th 8:38 PM

Boheme: “Following his friend’s screams Hondo has found himself in an oddly symmetrical clearing, said friend on the other side. Hondo has communicated with said friend only to find that they echo everything he has to say. He also discovered that his friend moved when he did. After nearing his friend and discovering that they have black eyes and razor sharp teeth as well, decided to reach out and touch the thing. His hand only met a sort of invisible wall. After voicing his realization that his friend was, in fact, not real, the wall visibly shattered as glass would, sending Mr. Kabweza stumbling backward. He has beat an illusion and was awarded a golden necklace. Bellatores Team has obtained their second necklace. His two necklaces have morphed to represent his teammates. One necklace’s chain remained gold, a small 'AG’ is carved into the flat, circular pendant. The other chain is now a black chord, a small 'DLC’ is carved into a flat rhombus pendant . Hondo is now being escorted to the final stage of the first task.”

December 17th 8:50 PM

Adhara: “Mr. Petrov has, by touch, located what he thinks to be a horse in the marsh with a necklace tightly entangled in it’s mane. Despite it being rather suspicious that a horse be in the middle of a marsh in the dark woods, Alexander decided to mount it, apparently hoping it would bring him to land. The horse is in fact a Kelpie - a sort of water demon that disguises it’self as a horse to trick travelers in order to drown them. Alexander seemed to realize this, as she quickly severed the horses hair and is currently back in the marsh, attempting to swim to land again.”

December 17th 8:58 PM

Adhara: “Alexander has finally made his way back to land. Fulminati Team has obtained their second necklace. His two necklaces have morphed to represent his teammates. One necklace’s chain is now double in length, thin, and gold, a small 'JD' is carved into a diamond pendant. The other chain is now made of a dark glass beads, a small 'KJ' is carved into a cracked, deep red, marble pendant. Alexander is now being escorted to the final stage of the first task.”

#drop #triw:event #task one #update

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pokeasleepingsmaug · 7 years

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Ironside and Spell-weaver: Chapter 2

I tried to write an Ivar as a kelpie piece, but it just wasn’t working the way I wanted it to. Instead I decided to revisit my first ever Vikings fic and write a chapter 2 for it, I started it way back before Ivar took over my life haha. A slow burn Bjorn fic, since the sagas and history have no mention of Bjorn’s wife, and yet he’s the founder of a dynasty. And what makes him so untouchable, anyway?

But side note, it sucks because I don’t usually do first person, so this is more of an exercise for me to grow as a writer. I’m posting it because I’ve been pretty absent lately and I just really miss writing, and this is really all I’ve written lately.

AO3:http://archiveofourown.org/works/10534929/chapters/25019625

I jerked awake sometime later, heart pounding. I lay on a low pallet covered in furs, one of them pulled up around my shoulders. They weren't mine—they smelled of battle, the fearful sweat of men and horses, the iron tang of blood wiped hastily away. I drew a deep breath, hoping to calm myself, and opened my eyes.

I was in a tent, and no light shone from outside, so it must have been full darkness by now. The remains of a small fire glowed orange in the middle of the tent, weapons and a shield stacked carefully by the entrance flap. A powerfully built man sat by the fire, shoulders hunched. A knife glinted in one hand, and I strained to hear the soft scrape of the knife against the wood in his other hand. I sat, clearing my throat, and he straightened. “You're awake. I brought you to my tent to keep an eye on you.” His dark blue eyes appraised me, curious. “You gave my brothers and I quite a scare.” His voice was quiet.

I finally found my voice, shrugging, “It is nothing, it only happens sometimes when the magic is too strong. Blood-magic does it especially quickly. It is the price we sorceresses pay for the favor of the gods.” I stretched slowly, feeling his eyes on me still. “How long was I asleep?”

He chuckled lightly. “Well, if you didn't wake up soon, I was going to try to rouse you. We march in about an hour. I had your belongings brought,” he jerked his chin to a bundle beside his stacked weapons. “I thought you might want to freshen up. I have some water heated in the kettle near the fire, and I will leave. I have matters to attend to.”

“Thank you, my lord, and sorry to keep you from your bed,” I stammered, awkward and embarrassed. He shrugged his powerful shoulders, smiling easily at me.

“Do not trouble yourself. I will come to fetch you before we leave.” He stood and ducked through the entrance flap of the tent, leaving me alone. I rose from the pile of furs, shivering lightly in the chill of the late summer predawn. I found the warm water and a clean rag, and quickly washed myself. I pulled the tangles out of my hair with my fingers and hastily rebraided it over one shoulder. I looked down and inspected my clothes. I wore a simple tunic and leather breeches, easy clothes for traveling and much more durable than a dress. They didn't seem too dirty, and due to the scarcity of time for washing clothes while marching with an army, I decided to wear them for another day. Hopefully I would have time to wash them tonight.

I sat by the fire and held my cold hands over it, my grumbling stomach reminding me that I had passed out before I had the chance to eat dinner. I sat in silence for a few more minutes until I heard a voice calling me from outside. I quickly ducked through the tent flap, and found a grinning Bjorn waiting for me. He held the reins of a small bay horse, and he held them out to me with a flourish. “We captured this mare yesterday from the Saxons, and my brothers and I have decided to give her to you for your help in that victory. Also,” he reached into a pouch at his waist, and held out a hunk of crusty bread and a piece of cheese. “you need to eat.”

My mouth watered at the thought, and I took the food gratefully. “Thank you, my lord,” I let out between ravenous bites. He laughed, filling me with warmth, and I smiled shyly back.

“What will you name her?”

I tilted my head, seriously considering the question, as I finished my breakfast. “Victory,” I told him. He smiled, and cupped his hands to boost me into her saddle. He rested his hand lightly on my thigh as I settled on her back, and he nodded in approval as he looked up at me, withdrawing his hand suddenly.

“She was surely crafted for you,” he told me gruffly. And he whirled away to join his brothers without another word.

...

I had ridden by myself for most of the day, trailing behind and to the side of the army. We moved swiftly, and I had barely gathered a handful of henbane by the time we stopped to make a hasty camp. I left Victory tethered near a group of other horses, and was about to slip away to look for more herbs when I heard a voice hailing me. I cursed internally, sighing, and found myself face to face with Bjorn and his brother, Sigurd.

Sigurd led a nervous, sweating horse, the whites of his eyes rolling. I inclined my head slightly. “My lords, how may I be of service?” My gaze traveled between the brothers, and as my eyes met Sigurd's, I felt the familiar pull of magic in the pit of my stomach. He was a man born of a volva, the strangeness in his eye marking him as powerful. Had he been born a woman, he undoubtedly would have followed in his mother's footsteps.

“My horse is lame,” Sigurd explained. “Do you have healing skill?”

“Some, but a farrier would be a better one to tend an ailing horse.” I sighed, crossing my arms. “But I will try, since the magic of your mother is what brought you to seek me out. Though you try, you cannot always resist its pull.” I smiled at the startled look on his face.

Bjorn laughed, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “Not every man can be born of a shieldmaiden,” he teased lightly. The remark stung more than it should have. I tried my best to ignore it, stepping forward and reaching a hand to soothe the nervous horse. I bent and examined his long legs, running my hands down them to check for heat and swelling. I found it on his left foreleg, just above the hoof. “Here. He has a pocket of infection. I can fix this.”

I went to my nearby pack, looking carefully for the right herbs, my wooden mixing bowl, and my small dagger. I found what I needed, scooped up some dirt in my bowl, and added water. I crushed the dried herbs between my fingers, their musty, sweet scent tickling my nose, and I mixed the thick mud together into a poultice. I set the mixture down and picked up the knife. “Both of you should probably hold him for this. He won't like it.”

Sigurd eyed the knife, the red glint of fading sun along its edge, and looked like he was about to protest. I sent him my best glare, and he seemed to think better of it. At least one of the Ragnarssons knew when to keep his mouth shut.

I knelt and prodded gently at the leg, searching for the exact spot of the infected pocket. My fingers found it after a few moments, and I drew the small knife in a quick slash over it. The skin broke beneath the point, and the stallion screamed in anger. I jumped back quickly, expecting him to lash out but he did no such thing, only trembled. Murmuring soothing nonsense, I bent quickly back to my work and squeezed around the cut. Thick yellow pus oozed out, tinged pink with blood and smelling putrid. I wrinkled my nose, but kept on until the pus stopped coming. I quickly slathered the poultice over the wound. The sweet herbs would draw out any remaining infection, and I wrapped a mostly clean bandage around it.

I stood, wiping my dirty hands on my breeches. I felt like nothing I owned was clean, except my beautiful staff. It gleamed, wiped with a soft cloth every night and oiled every few days. “He will be fine, just don't ride him for a few days. Lead him beside you, or put him with the packhorses.”

“Can't you keep an eye on him, Alfhild? He is in under your care now, after all,” Sigurd wheedled. I sighed, eyeing the horse apprehensively, and nodded shortly. Who was I to go against the wishes of princes? Sigurd handed me the reins, thanking me. “He will not interfere with your plans tonight, I hope?”

“And if he did, would it change your mind, my lord?” I rolled my eyes, already knowing the answer. “I have to weave some protection charms for you and your brothers tonight, but he should be little trouble.”

“That horse is a beast,” Bjorn warned. “His name is Hrafn.” I tied the stallion next to my grazing mare, glaring darkly at him.

“If he harms my mare, his name will be Sacrifice,” I answered. Bjorn laughed, even white teeth flashing in the twilight.

“Do not bother making a protection charm for Ironside here,” Sigurd teased. “He is already invincible.”

“If I am so untouchable, brother, how is it that I have so many scars? Maybe the snake in your eye interferes with your vision.” Bjorn teased, a warning note running under the light tone. Apparently his nickname—or its apparent untruthfulness—was a raw nerve for the eldest prince.

“Perhaps I shall make his charm first,” I countered.

“But he is already untouchable!” Sigurd protested.

“And what if your untouchable Ironsides is killed? What would your enemies say then?” I challenged. I could not tell them the real reason my fingers itched to weave his charm, the reason that brought me to the Saxon land in the first place.

Sigurd seemed to consider this, then nodded. “I suppose you are right.”

Bjorn squinted off toward the horizon, jerking his head toward the front of the army. “We should go. We have plans to discuss with our brothers. Good night, Alfhild.” And scarcely bothering to spare me a glance, the sons of Ragnar walked off. I eyed the grazing black stallion, mentally kicking myself. As if I didn't have enough to worry about, I had to go and get stuck with an extra horse.

#bjorn ironside fic #vikings fanfiction #bjorn x oc #slow burn #bjorn x alfhild #ivar was just too much for me today

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hale-of-stiles-heart · 7 years

Note

A prompt for Valentine fic, if you don't mind c: So: first time Stiles gets a date for Valentine, detailed plans and all, but that morning he's being stood up and shit goes down with a new baddy, so he's kind of freaking done, and he also gets hurt (but not too much) so Derek, feeling how much he's sad and angry, since Der called him there, decides to make up for it even with his awkward social skills and angry eyebrows. Cool date (and sex, if you're up to) ensues. HAPPY ENDING yeah c: Thanks c:

Also on ao3!

Stiles brought the bat down on the kelpie’s head again with a sickeningly wet thud. He raised it only to slam it back down on the creature’s pulverized cranium, bone cracking under the overzealous assault.

The rest of the pack looked on in a mix of horror and morbid fascination as Stiles continued to literally beat the dead supernatural horse. Black blood seeped out of the kelpie’s many various wounds, painting the rocky riverside with dark gore, the moss stained by the dark blood.

After a couple hikers had been reported missing in the preserve earlier that day, the pack had spent hours trying to figure out what had happened, attempting to decide whether or not there was a supernatural component or not. Their suspicions had intensified when the hiker’s dead bodies were found downstream, pre-mortem slashes and bruises covering them, fluid in their lungs indicating that they had drowned.

It was Stiles who had come to the conclusion that a kelpie was responsible for the deaths of the couple, pointing out the hoof shaped contusions on one of the men’s chests. Derek deeming it very plausible, the pack had taken to the preserve, searching the area in which the hikers had gone missing for any sign of the kelpie.

After over two hours of canvassing the area, searching for the creature, it had made its whereabouts known by bellowing out a deafening roar when Isaac got a little too close to the river where it was residing. In response, Isaac had thrown his head back and howled for reinforcements while trying to fight off the crazed kelpie.

The rest of the pack had arrived in time to save Isaac from getting his skull crushed by one of the kelpie’s hooves, Derek tugging him out of harm’s way with a ferocious roar of his own. The alpha had received a lash to his face from the kelpie’s whip-like tail of seaweed for his troubles, a line of blood smattered across his face as he flashed his bright red eyes at the kelpie.

With the pack surrounding it, the kelpie had become even more aggressive, lashing out at them whenever one of them so much as breathed, leaving almost all of them wounded, dragging a few of them into the river with it as it attempted to escape. Crawling out of the frigid water, Stiles had ended things with one fell swing of his bat, the kelpie collapsing on the riverbank with a loud thump, but once Stiles started, he couldn’t stop.

He was pissed. It was Valentine’s Day and there he was in the middle of the preserve, soaking wet with his side throbbing from where the kelpie had scratched him with the sharp edge of one of its hooves.

He grunted as he continued his assault on the kelpie’s skull, the rest of the pack wincing each time he landed a blow on the kelpie’s head, eyes riveted to the gut-wrenching scene. Eventually, after several excruciating minutes of the violence, a hand shot out to grab the bat, sparing the kelpie corpse another hit and stopping Stiles in his tracks

“What?!” Stiles growled, snapping his head up to meet Peter’s eyes, baring his teeth in a human snarl, panting heavily as he tightened his grip on the bat. Peter just rolled his eyes at him with a snort.

“As much as I am a fan of unnecessary violence, this―” he waved his hand to indicate the kelpie’s dead body, black blood seeping out of its demolished skull “―is just plain excessive,” Peter drawled with a judgemental grimace. He dropped his right hand, wrinkling his nose at the sticky black blood covering his palm before wiping it off on the side of his designer jeans. Turning back to Stiles, he casually suggested, “Now, why don’t we just wash up and spend the rest of the evening having rough, wild sex, hmm?”

“In your dreams,” Stiles spat viciously, straightening up and squaring his shoulders, narrowing his eyes at the smirking werewolf. He was in no mood for Peter’s perverted little teasing.

“Well, yes. But that doesn’t quite answer my question,” Peter pointed out, raking his half-lidded eyes over Stiles’ body, not bothering to conceal his blatant interest. Stiles rolled his eyes, freezing stock still when Peter tacked on, “One would think that after getting stood up this morning you would be more than happy to jump into bed with someone as good-looking as myself.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles snarled, though he wasn’t at all surprised at Peter’s words, not surprised by the fact that the werewolf would so callously throw the little tidbit back in his face after Stiles confided in him. He shouldered passed him to crouch down by the river, dipping his hands into the algid water to wash the kelpie blood off his hands, feeling the eyes of the other pack members boring into him.

For the past two weeks, he had talked all of their ears off about the cute guy he had met at the local coffee shop, the one who had ordered the same exact latte as him, both ordering chocolate cherry muffins too. They had all been excited for him, except maybe Derek who had just nodded indifferently when Stiles had told him about meeting Eric.

After texting back and forth for a few days, they had agreed to go out for coffee together on Valentine’s Day, planning to meet at the same coffee shop where they had first bumped into each other. Stiles had been absolutely giddy in the days leading up to their date, unable to keep from breaking into a wide grin at the very thought of seeing Eric again.

That morning he had waited for over two hours for him to show up, going through several large cups of espresso and a few red velvet muffins before he just gave up, coming to terms with the fact that Eric had stood him up. He had run into Peter on his walk home, leaving his Jeep at home due to the unseasonably warm weather that day, on pure impulse admitting that he had been stood up. Peter had actually been rather sympathetic, offering a gentle pat on the back and a few choice words about Eric being an asshole.

And now the rest of the pack knew, probably looking at him with pity in their eyes and trite words on the tips of their tongues. If he hadn’t been pissed before, he certainly was now, bracing himself for one of them to say something about his failed date.

But what he heard instead was the telltale jingle of keys and Derek’s voice firmly instructing the betas, “Go home and get some rest. I’ll take care of the body.”

Stiles heard the crunch of the underbrush as the betas headed back to the Camaro, their footsteps fading away as he focused on cleaning the blood off his bat. He waited patiently for Derek to say something, chewing his lip and ducking his head, feeling like an idiot.

He had let his emotions get the better of him, his frustrations taking over the much more reasonable part of him. Derek was sure to chew him out for it.

“Do you still have a can of gas in your Jeep?” Derek asked instead, much to Stiles’ surprise, the sound of his voice making Stiles jolt and nearly tumble back into the river again, steadying himself with a hand braced on a large mossy rock. Stiles whipped his head around to gawk at Derek, raising a curious brow at the werewolf who just gestured to the dead kelpie, placidly explaining, “We need to burn it.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” Stiles mumbled, digging around in the pocket of his hoodie for his car keys, finally finding them and yanking them out of his pocket with a triumphant half smile. He tossed them over to Derek who caught them without batting an eye, turning on his heel to jog through the woods back to where Stiles had parked the Jeep earlier, leaving him to finish cleaning up.

Derek returned a few minutes later with the bright orange gas can just as Stiles rose to his feet, drying his hands on his jeans. Derek motioned Stiles over with a jerk of his head, encouraging him to move further away from the kelpie’s body as he began dousing the corpse with a generous amount of gasoline.

Stiles moved away from the river, resting his bat on his shoulder as he scurried over to stand behind Derek, watching as the alpha emptied the can over the kelpie corpse, coating its leathery hide. Pulling a silver Zippo lighter out of his pocket, Derek took a few steps back, dragging Stiles along with him, and grabbed a dry, brittle stick from off the ground. He lit the end of the twig with the Zippo and tossed it onto the kelpie.

They watched as the creature was engulfed in a bloom of flames, dark flesh burning away to ash in mere minutes, bones crumbling into dust. A cloud of sickly green smoke rose from the kelpie’s disintegrating body, rising up into the night air where it was whipped away by the wind.

They waited until the fire died down to cinders, Derek kicking some dirt onto the remaining ashes, before turning to leave, Stiles still waiting for Derek to reprimand him for his downright cruel behavior earlier. But it never came. Not when they walked back to the Jeep, not when they climbed into, Stiles not saying a single word about Derek driving, not when they drove out of the preserve and back into town.

“Umm… My house is that way,” Stiles piped up, hooking a thumb over his shoulder, when Derek missed the turn that Stiles usually took to get back home after a night of monster hunting in the preserve. He couldn’t think of any reason why Derek would be driving him anywhere else. It didn’t make much sense at all.

“I need to check your side,” Derek announced in response, not taking his eyes off the road for a second, driving in the opposite direction of Stiles’ house. Flicking his eyes over to Stiles, fixating on the shredded fabric of his t-shirt, his skin covered in blood from both himself and the kelpie, Derek elaborated, “It’ll be easier to do it at the loft. And I don’t think your dad would appreciate it if we woke him up in the middle of the night.”

“Afraid he’s gonna shoot you?” Stiles managed to joke, relaxing back into the plush cushion of the passenger seat, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He sighed contentedly when Derek turned up the heat, welcome warmth seeping into his chilled skin.

“Yeah,” Derek unabashedly admitted, making another turn in the direction of the loft, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. With another glance over at Stiles, he added, “I have a feeling he might if I wake him up after working a two day straight shift.”

“You’re not wrong,” Stiles conceded with a crooked grin of his own, well aware of how cranky his dad could get when woken up early. He had made that mistake more times than he liked to think about.

They didn’t talk much for the remainder of the drive back to the loft, Stiles coming close to nodding off as he hummed along to the radio under his breath, cold and tired. Derek startled him out of a light doze with a hand on his shoulder when they arrived at the loft, Stiles nearly smacking Derek in the face when he flailed in surprise.

Still in a bit of a daze, he fumbled his way out of the Jeep and followed Derek into the building, groaning aloud at the arduous sight of all the stairs that they would have to scale just to get to the loft. He already felt like he was about to keel over from exhaustion and he and stairs had never gotten along too well anyhow. He turned to Derek with an exaggerated pout, inquiring, “Would it be weird if I asked you to carry me?”

Derek cocked a brow at him, resting a hand on Stiles’ lower back to lead him towards the elevator, stepping inside and waiting for Stiles to join him. But Stiles just gawked at him incredulously, face blanching as he scanned his eyes over the rickety old box of death.

“What?” Derek prompted, folding his arms over his chest as he looked at Stiles like he was the crazy one for not wanting to climb into the elevator. “You said you didn’t want to take the stairs.”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles conceded, scratching the back of his head as he looked back at the flights of stairs which suddenly looked very appealing in comparison. Turning back to Derek, he waved his hand around wildly, announcing, “But I’d rather take the stairs than that thing!”

“You’ll be fine,” Derek insisted, rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head at Stiles’ insufferability. Dropping his hand, he met Stiles’ eyes, swearing, “I promise, you’ll be fine, Stiles. If anything happens, I’ll be right here. Now, will you please just get in the elevator?”

“Fine,” he reluctantly capitulated, taking a cautious step into the elevator, jumping with a high-pitched yelp when Derek yanked the grate closed behind him, rolling his eyes again. He practically clung to Derek’s arm as the elevator climbed to Derek’s floor, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he mumbled under his breath, “I swear to god, if I die in here I will haunt you for the rest of your life!”

Stiles couldn’t be sure, not seeing it for himself, but he was pretty sure that Derek rolled his eyes again, breathing out a deep sigh at Stiles’ panicked little half-hearted threat.

Once they made it to Derek’s floor, the elevator jolting to a jerky stop, Stiles hopped out of the elevator and rushed over to the heavy steel door of the loft, feeling a bit nauseous. He tugged the door open, letting himself in, not bothering to wait for Derek, making himself right at home by plopping down on the couch.

“Get up,” Derek ordered, following him into the loft, slipping out of his leather jacket which he draped over the back of his favorite recliner after closing the steel door. Stiles looked up at him, offended, crossing his arms over his chest as he frowned. But Derek just strode over and shoved his feet off the couch and snapped, “Go take a shower before you get blood all over the couch. It’s new.”

Stiles pushed himself to his feet with a fair amount of grumbling, kicking off his soaking wet Converse that had been squeaking incessantly since the kelpie had knocked him into the river. Still muttering to himself under his breath, Stiles padded down the hallway to the bathroom, closing the door himself as he quickly and efficiently stripped out of his sopping wet clothes.

He could hear Derek moving around in the main living room while he turned on the hot water, probably gathering things he would need to patch up the bloody scratches on Stiles’ side. Testing the temperature of the spray with his hand before stepping into the stall, sighing at the hot water that sluiced over his cold skin, Stiles silently thanked whatever gods were responsible for perfect water pressure.

He used an obscene amount of Derek’s expensive body wash that smelled like a refreshing blend of cedarwood and jasmine, sure he probably smelt like a rancid swamp, using an ample amount to wash his hair with. Very carefully, he used some unscented soap to scrub away most of the blood on his side, wincing at the gnarly sight of the ragged scratches, the cuts throbbing a bit under his ministrations.

After lingering in the shower for a few extra minutes, soaking up as much warmth as he possibly could, Stiles begrudgingly turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around himself. He nearly jumped out of his own skin when he heard a knock at the bathroom door, clutching the towel to his chest in a half-assed attempt to cover himself.

“Um, yeah?” Stiles called, trying to calm his pounding heartbeat, pressing a hand to his chest over the fabric of the towel. He let out a deep sigh, hoping Derek hadn’t noticed just how frightened he had gotten.

“It’s just me,” Derek responded, his tone even and placating so as not to startle Stiles any more than he already had. After a few brief moments of silence, he murmured, “I brought you some clothes.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles answered, fumbling to wrap the towel around his waist as he crossed the room to the door, opening it just enough to peer out at Derek. He was holding a stack of neatly folded clothes in his arms, a soft looking maroon Henley and a pair of baggy black sweatpants, hands outstretched in offering. Stiles accepted them gratefully, murmuring, “Uh, thanks, dude.”

Derek offered a tight smile, a flash of red high on his cheeks, and pulled the door closed him, leaving Stiles to finish drying off and getting redressed. He was quick to dry himself off, scrubbing the towel over his wet skin until he was dry enough to not track water through the loft, shaking his head to help dry his thick hair.

Feeling a bit of a chill again, he quickly tugged on the warm Henley and sweatpants, glad to see that Derek had enclosed a pair of boxer briefs with the pants. He didn’t bother lingering in the bathroom much longer, draping the damp towel and his wet clothes over the shower rod to dry before leaving the room and heading back out to the living room where Derek was sitting on the couch.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted, absent-mindedly fidgeting with the hem of his borrowed Henley, nodding his chin at Derek as he took a seat beside him on the couch. He glanced at the coffee table where there was both a first aid kit and a box of pizza from his favorite takeout place, the mere sight of the box enough to make his mouth water, his stomach rumbling loudly.

“Hey,” Derek returned. Indicating the pizza box, he said, “I thought you might be hungry so I ordered your favorite.”

“Ooh, meat lover’s with curly fries?” Stiles asked, impatiently lifting the lid of the pizza box, licking his lips at the glorious sight of five different types of meats and four different kinds of cheeses, curly fries liberally sprinkled over top just the way he liked. Grabbing a big heaping slice, greases dripping down his fingers to the inside of his wrist, he enthusiastically announced, “Dude, you’re the best!”

“How’s your side?” Derek questioned, leaning forward to grab himself a slice as Stiles took a few large greedy bites of his own, looking a bit like a chipmunk with his round cheeks as he chewed.

Swallowing heavily, Stiles nodded, voice a little muffled as he reported, “It’s okay. Still hurts a little but it stopped bleeding.”

Derek nodded and took a bite of his own slice, folding his piece of pizza in half so as not to lose any toppings, grabbing a napkin to mop at the corners of his mouth. Pausing for a moment, he gestured towards the first aid kit on the coffee table, claiming, “You should put some antiseptic on it. And a bandage.”

Stiles just nodded and gave a little salute, too preoccupied with stuffing his face to provide a more formal response, a little disappointed that Derek wouldn’t be treating his wounds himself. He was only drawn out of his pizza-fixated haze when Derek clicked on the TV, a Batman movie already queued up on Netflix.

Choking down another mouthful of pizza, Stiles turned to Derek, raising an accusatory brow as he declared, “Y’know, this feels suspiciously like a date.”

“I…” Derek trailed off awkwardly, licking his lips and setting his slice of pizza back down in the box, eyes on his shoes. Scratching his cheek, he reluctantly admitted, “Uh, yeah. That’s kind of what I was going for.”

Stiles stared at him, aghast. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“I’m sorry, it was stupid,” Derek muttered, squeezing his eyes shut while he shook his head, shoulders slumping as he curled in on himself a bit. He opened his mouth, probably to apologize again, but Stiles wasn’t having any of it. He cut off whatever Derek was going to say by pressing their lips together, abandoning his pizza to clumsily scramble into Derek’s lap.

Stiles crashed their lips together without any real finesse, looping his arms around Derek’s neck as he swiped his tongue over Derek’s bottom lip, nipping it a bit. It took a moment for Derek to respond, the hesitation terrifying Stiles until the alpha wound his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulled him in closer.

Reluctantly pulling back from the kiss that he had returned with equal fervor, Derek laid a few kisses to Stiles’ cheek, the curve of his cheek, his cheek. Voice husky and rough as Stiles kissed his stubble-studded throat, he confessed, “So glad Eric stood you up.”

Had it not been for the fact that because Eric had stood him up he was now making out with Derek, Stiles probably would have been offended, but considering the fortuitous turn of events, he couldn’t help but agree. Guiding Derek’s lips back to his own with a firm hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, he concurred, “Me too.”

After a few more heated kisses, Stiles spreading his legs to straddle Derek’s lap more comfortably and Derek’s hands having somehow migrated to under the hem of Stiles’ borrowed shirt, a thought occurred to Stiles. This time, Stiles broke the kiss, preening at the needy whine Derek let out when he did, and joked, “Guess we should send Peter a fruit basket, huh?”

“Please don’t talk about my uncle when we’re making out,” Derek requested, panting a bit against Stiles’ wet lips, a small smirk curling both of their mouths. He swooped back in to scatter a small series of quick kisses to Stiles’ lips, smiling into each and every one.

“So, I guess that’s a no to a threesome, then?” Stiles wondered, pouting in faux disappointment as he rubbed his hand over Derek’s chest, running the pad of his thumb over the row of buttons on the gray Henley that Derek was wearing. Derek responded by throwing his head back and laughing deeply before capturing Stiles’ lips in yet another deep kiss, sure to throw in a bite to his lip and a possessive squeeze of his ass.

Yeah, they were definitely going to send Peter a fruit basket.

#Sterek #Sterek fic #canon divergent #getting together #mentioned original male character #kissing #stiles gets stood up #derek is a softie #peter is a little shit #peter and stiles friendship #because that's my shit #and i finally found an excuse to right it #fic #my fic #Valentine's Day fic #Valentine's Day #frostniskare

105 notes · View notes

pherryt · 7 years

Text

@destielonfire from your ask: I'm always looking for more themed recs - do you read destiel? What about a rec list of fics where one of them's some kind of creature (eg. merman, vampire, ghost, werewolf,.... angels excluded ofc)? Please tag me if you end up doing it!

I wanted to answer this from your ask directly, but it didn’t show me that i could do any formatting! oops! Okay, so you didn’t specify SFW or NSFW but i have both...and I’m thinking you didn’t mean to include anything A/B/O since that could be a whole fic rec in and of itself, though some of the stories actually have them shape change and all...

Also, i know i’ve read (and enjoyed) more than these (if i can find them, maybe i’ll do a second fic rec), but these were just the ones I could find on my bookmark list (and a few that weren’t, somehow, on that list but because i subscribe to the author, they were easy to find)

There were a couple more i wanted to add, but they seem to have just disappeared.

(Also, my apologies, i am finding this hard to format to look nice and neat like everyone elses stuff does...I’m so sorry.)

Halflings by @unforth-ninawaters Rating : explicit

Summary: Ever since his wife Lisa died, Dean Winchester has been willing to do anything for his son Ben. When Ben decided he wanted to adopt a halfling, Dean said yes without hesitation - provided they did so the right way, by giving whichever half-human they decided to bring home the respect and dignity it deserved. Half-octopi Castiel isn't exactly what they were looking for in a pet, but, then, they aren't exactly what Castiel was expecting for owners, either.

Notes: Here there be Tentacle Smut! Technically, listed as not finished and is the only WIP on this list (or i might add other stories) but I keep thinking it’s done...? for some reason?

Funny, He Doesn't Look Orcish! by Unforth Rating: General

summary: Convinced of the necessity of war with the orcs, King John sent Dean to spy on the Orcs of the Kingdom of Purgatory. At first, Dean agrees with John's assessment of the situation, but eventually he comes to see things differently. The hard part - surprisingly - is convincing Sam..

Notes: just too amusing :D

Castiel's Dragon by Unforth Rating: Explicit

Summary: Born without legs, Castiel was destined to be a dragon rider. He'd always dreamed of how it would be, and when the day for his pairing came, he knew he'd met the perfect dragon.

Notes: CHECK THE TAGS FIRST

Unbridled by Angrysouffle Rating: Explicit

Summary: Dean and Sam are trapped in Water Horse Bay, a seemingly idyllic seaside town full of secrets. Castiel the town's local police officer refuses to believe Dean's wild tale of a supernatural horse rescuing kidnapped children. With the Impala broken down, Dean and Sam decide to investigate. Yet every lead they come up with seems to implicate Castiel as a sea monster. Though monster or not, Dean finds himself falling hard for the temperamental Castiel.

Notes: Kelpies! :D

Lost by Casual_distance Rating: Explicit

Summary: Dean’s lost. Like, really lost. He didn’t even know it was possible to be this lost.

Notes: Very short. Dean gets surprised forest sex basically.

What Has Eight Tentacles and Isn't Allowed to Eat Pie by Annie D (scaramouche) Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting.Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus

Notes: Fluffy! Also, Dean isn't inherently a 'creature' but does get turned into one so i hope this counts?

The Spirit of Lawrence High by @violue Rating: Explicit

Summary: Dean Winchester is funny, gorgeous, brave, loyal, and a breath of fresh air in Castiel Shurley's life. Dean Winchester is also a ghost haunting Castiel's school, but nobody's perfect, right?

Notes: I hesitated to read this at first because, i mean, ghosts! how do you have a happy ending with ghosts? (and I like my stories to have happy endings even if I cry when I read through them to get there) but yeah....this was good :D

Forget Me Not by k_K_Tibal Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Dean gets a little more than he bargains for when he accidentally buys a haunted flower shop.

Notes : speaking of ghosts... Bittersweet

Out of the Deep by @riseofthefallenone rating: Explicit

Summary: Stay away from the light-beds. Stay in the deep.It is the first thing hatchlings are taught the moment their fans unfurl and they can swim without their parents to buoy them along. It is the first rule, the first law. It is the beginning of every boogey-monster bedtime story told when they settle against the cliffs to sleep. Castiel should have listened better.

Notes: Mermen! Also, she wrote an alternate POV for this story. Also, also, there's a version where they're both creatures. Also, also, some really inspiring artwork included here.

Qualia by imogenbynigt Rating: Mature

Summary: When Sam & Jess move into a smart home, Dean finds an unlikely match in the AI that keeps it running.

Notes: I want more. *Sniffle*ltleflrt:

Addicted to You by @ltleflrt Rating: Explicit (OMG EXPLICIT)

Summary: Dean is a Warlock. A very very drunk Warlock. Oh, and a horny Warlock.Hey, he knows how to summon a succubus!He should totally do that. Hell yeah! Guaranteed hot sex!Except that spellcasting while drunk is a Very Bad Idea. He's just too drunk to remember that.

Notes: Apparently, this derailed from the authors original intent and became something more. I love it :D

Cursed Or Not also by ltleflrt Rating: Explicit

Summary:While experimenting with magic when he was a kid, Sam accidentally cursed Dean. Now, Dean is forced to wear a spelled amulet constantly, or he'll turn into a random animal. For a little over a decade, he's learned to live with the curse, and has even found it useful in some cases, but he sure would be happier without it.When he meets a witch named Castiel, he's offered a deal. Instead of assuming all witches are bad, Dean can spend a season getting to know him. If at the end of the season, Dean still thinks he's evil Castiel will send him away with his memory wiped of the whole experience. But if he learns that Castiel is not the monster Dean assumes he is, he'll lift Dean's curse.It's an offer Dean can't bring himself to pass up.

Notes: I loved this so much its one of the ones I've downloaded to read as often as I can :D

The Siren and the Sea Monster by ltleflrt Rating: explicit

summary: When Cain moves to Washington State, Dean decides to follow him so that he can keep his job as Cain's apprentice. The small town near the sea is Cain's home town, and he has a small beach house that he rents to Dean for dirt cheap, with only a warning to beware of strange neighbors.

Notes: Octopus Cas :D

Castiel's Most Precious Jewel (or that time Dean married a giant lizard) by Valinde (Valyria) Rating: Explicit

Summary: Dean didn’t care that it was tradition, that it was how things had been done for thousands of years, he didn’t want to get married and he sure as hell didn’t want to marry a fucking dragon.

Notes:

Enchanted Tea Emporium by mazedoodle, violue Rating: Teen and up

Summary: As an experienced witch, Castiel has seen many captivating sights in his life. However, nothing he's seen has ever had him quite as entranced as the sight of the man in the flower shop across the road, unloading items from the back of a truck.

notes - so sweet :D Also, apparantly done for the Reverse Bang which i think is a really cool concept and I'm participating in that THIS year - i can't wait to see if i get something this awesome off *MY* picture :D

Unbound by Through_shadows_falling Rating: Mature

Summary: In a world where Witches and Familiars depend on each other to survive, Dean Winchester remains Unbound, and his magic—and life—is dwindling. Dean has accepted his fate, even if his family hasn't. After all, what can he do about it?But then a man stumbles into his life who just might be Dean's Witch, but for some mysterious reason, refuses to Bond. On top of that, there's trouble brewing on the horizon, and it seems that Dean's caught right in the thick of it.Can Dean convince the stranger that they need each other, before it's too late for the both of them—and their world?

Notes: I just really loved this :D

#fic recs #creatures #destiel #supernatural #destielonfire #first fic rec request #formatting sucks #if you have suggestions #please send?

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quiescentcastiel · 7 years

Text

I just finished a Very Serious Fic for the last SPC round, so I wanted to lighten it up again for Round 2 of @mittensmorgul‘s Great Fic Writer Scavenger Hunt. This round combines the prompts “I Don’t Want To Ruin Our Friendship” and “they think it’s witches but HOOBOY IT’S DEFINITELY NOT WITCHES witches would’ve been a cakewalk compared to THIS…” I’m sure I’ll do something more sensible in the future, but for now it’s all crack, baby.

Note: This story got away from me a bit and is 2.6k long. It’s also slightly less crack and more likely to fit into (the weirder end of) canon. Mild violence.

When Cas had found a case that lead the boys to the beach, Dean was delighted. However, when they realized that the deaths of multiple sailors, drowned in houses turned into aquariums, were caused by a witch, his feelings about the case decreased significantly.

They sank even lower when he found out that the witch wasn’t operating on land.

“So,” said Sam, “the only connection all our vics have is that they all frequented Whirlpool Enterprises, a virtual reality set up where sailors can experience all the fantasy sea creatures that old storybooks told them about.”

“...Ok. Well, let’s go there and see what we can find.”

“Already did it.” Sam paused and Dean raised an eyebrow. “I also looked into the owner of the store, Andrea Sparrow, and found that she has a house on Dutchman Lane, on the outskirts of town. But according to her neighbors, nobody has lived in that house for years.”

“So where is she?”

“As far as I can tell, on a boat.”

“Aw, hell.”

“That’s not all. The boat, which, by the way, is registered to an Captain A. Hab, is large enough that it can’t possible be manned by only one person.”

Dean groaned. “Multiple witches?”

“I’d say about three. And get this,” Sam continued, “I found this boat by looking through the docking records for all the local areas, but I had to go back awhile because it hasn’t been seen by anyone recently, at least not anywhere official.”

“Why?”

“It’s wanted for multiple accounts of piracy.”

“So we’ve got witches running their very own pirate ship. What does that make them?” Dean smirked. “Pitches? Wirates?”

Sam made a bitchface. “A pain in our ass that’s what it makes them. How are we going to get them out in the ocean?”

Cas finally spoke up. “I think I may have something.”

The man who had told Cas about the case was a retired sailor who owned a small but sturdy boat, and owed Cas a favor. He did also, however, know about monsters and such, and defiantly refused to come along with them. Instead, he tossed the keys at Dean and told them to be prepared to buy him a new boat.

“Well that was very un-ship’s-captain-ly,” Dean grumbled as they left his home.

Cas nodded. “Not to mention, he actually knows his way around his own boat, unless either of you have been some experience I don’t know about.”

“Nah, but I’ve watched enough sea movies,” said Dean. He clapped Cas on the back. “It’ll be easy.”

They met Sam at the docks; he had been trying to pinpoint the location of the witch’s ship.

“Alright, I’ve been asking around, and a few people have been telling be about a ship that’s been seen in an alcove a couple miles up shore.

“So?”

“So, there’s also been reports of a purple-ish smoke hanging round the place and even the sound of screaming. Some poor sailor went to check it out but found nothing until he was suddenly drenched in an unidentifiable slime.”

Dean shuddered. “Well, if that don’t sound witchy to me...”

“Yeah. We better get going before they hurt anybody else.”

The boat was small, in fact, it was barely a step up from a speedboat. It was white, but the paint was fading, and the name of the boat, in silver, could barely be seen.

“Melon?” Sam asked.

“No, Sam, Mellon,” Dean corrected. Sam gave him a blank look. ‘From Lord of the Rings? ‘Speak friend and enter.’”

Sam rolled his eyes as they climbed aboard the boat.

Cas squinted at the boat as it shook. “He named his boat ‘friend’?”

“Sure, why not. Hey. Hey, Cas,” Dean nudged the angel, “I’d tell you I love you but I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.” He chuckled to himself.

Cas looked him with an unreadable face, and Dean suddenly felt his stomach twist. Cas replied in cold voice, “I don’t think this is big enough to be called a ship, Dean.”

“Nevermind. Let’s just go.”

Dean got behind the wheel, and Sam cast them off. Before they went off to find the witches, they each took a turn steering the boat. When Cas was behind the wheel, Dean stood close behind him and tried to reach out to help guide his hand. Cas only flicked him away impatiently, saying that he didn’t need him. Dean gritted his teeth and stepped away, instead deciding to ready his weapons. His little joke couldn’t have annoyed him that much, right?

When they finally made it to the alcove, it was getting dark. But despite the lack of light, there was no ship to be seen. There was, however, what appeared to be a young woman sitting on a rock, surrounded by water.

Sam noticed her first. “Dean,” he whispered.

“Ye- Oh. Who do you think she is?”

“I don’t know. Should we-”

“Hello?” the lady called out. “Hello! Can you help me? I was out looking for shells but the tide came in and now I’m stuck.”

Sam and Dean gave each other a significant look. Sam shouted back, “Coming right over.”

“This could be a trap,” whispered Cas.

“If it’s a trap, we’ll just kill her,” Dean snapped at him, not feeling in the mood to put up with the angel right now.

“But we should be cautious,” said Sam, giving each of them a confused look. Dean caught his eye but then dropped it.

Dean let the boat idle up to the lady, drifting slowly, preparing for something to happen. As they got closer, they could see that she had long dark hair and dark eyes, and was wearing a white dress with no shoes. Dean frowned. With witches on the loose, there was no way this wasn’t a trap.

The were about ten feet away from the rock when Dean was proved right. Sam was at the head of the boat, as if ready to give her a hand, but as the woman stood up, she transformed into a great, black horse. The beast’s eyes were blazing white, and its mouth extended all the way up its jaw, exposing bone-crushing teeth. Its hooves faced backwards, and its legs dripped with slimy seaweed.

Dean immediately started up the engine, just as the horse pinned its ears back and leapt from the rock to crash into Sam. But Sam was quick - he’d been expecting this too - and he whipped out a knife that he’d been carrying. As the horse flew straight towards him, he pushed his knife in front of him, skewering the beast.

It fell into the water with a splash and became human once more.

“What was that?” breathed Dean.

“A kelpie,” replied Cas.

Dean snorted. “That sounds more like a bad seafood dish.”

Cas grimaced, but Sam spoke before he could make a retort. “Cas is right. I’ve read about kelpies; they’re a Scottish myth, frequently appearing in the shape of a horse to lure people into the water where they drown them and eat them.”

“That’s pleasant. What does it have to do with our witches?”

“I think, as we got closer to her, I recognized her,” Sam said. “I saw a photo of her with our witch, when I was looking through her stuff.”

“She must be a part of this,” said Cas. “You said there had to be three witches to sail their ship, maybe she was one of them.”

Dean cut in, “But after seeing that, I’m not even sure if they are witches. Unless that kelpie thing was one of their familiars?”

“I don’t know,” answered Sam. “Maybe they’re some sort of shapeshifter.”

“Either way,” said Cas, “they have to have some witchcraft or they wouldn’t be able to fill those sailors’ houses with the ocean.”

“Monster witches. Pirate monster witches.” Dean huffed. “As if regular witches weren’t bad enough.”

“And there’s still two more out there.”

“Then we’d better go kill those sons of witches.”

Dean turned the boat around, and they headed back out into the open ocean.

“Where to next?” he asked.

“Can you see that?” asked Cas as he looked straight out at the horizon.

Dean squinted, but all he could see was waves. “No, Cas, I don’t have Super Vision. Why don’t you just tell us?”

“There’s something headed towards us,” he snapped, scowling.

Fuming at Cas’ misplaced anger, Dean gunned the Mellon towards whatever the angel had seen. “Round Two, bring it on.”

As they got closer, a small creature jumped up from the water and landed on the boat by Sam. Before it could get anywhere, Sam had pinned it to the wood with his knife. The creature struggle and screamed, then died.

“A new monster,” he said. The creature was about the size and shape of an infant, with gills, blue-green skin and tentacles, rather than arms or legs.

“Urgh, what is that?” Dean asked.

Sam proded the creature a bit. “They kinda look like... grindylows. Y’know from Harry Potter?”

“I don’t think so,” said Cas as he came over to investigate.

Dean was about to ask why not, but another came shooting up from the surface of the ocean. He drew his gun and shot it mid-air, but as it dropped back into the water, the wave finally reached the boat.

“There’s hundreds of these little water demons!” Sam screeched as the boat rocked with the force of being attacked from either side. There were creatures flying though the air and crawling up the sides of the boat, their faces twisted with sharp, demonic smiles. Their screams were piercing.

“I don’t know why Cas thinks otherwise, but I’m pretty sure these are grindylows!” shouted Sam, smashing the water demons with a wire-wrapped baseball bat he found in the back of the Impala.

Cas replied from the back of the boat, slashing the creatures with his angel blade, “It’s just that I thought they were supposed to be fresh water?”

“IS THAT REALLY WHAT YOU’RE CONCERNED ABOUT, CAS?” yelled Dean, struggling with a grindylow that was attacking his face.

With a cry, he grabbed the creatures tentacles, tearing half of them off with a splash of grey-ish blood. Grindylows were completely covering the Mellon by now, and none of it could be seen under them.

Sam yelled, “THERE’S TOO MUCH WATER COMING IN! THEY’RE BITING THROUGH THE BOAT!”

“WE CAN’T FIGHT THIS MANY OFF!” Dean cried out.

“IF WE DON’T,” Cas roared, in between breaths, “IF THE BOAT SINKS, THEY’LL EAT US ALIVE!”

“NO WAY! I AIN’T NO GODDAMN BAUDELAIRE!” Dean bawled, slashing the grindylows with his machete.

Over the screaching of the water demons he heard Cas yell out, “SHUT YOUR EYES!”

He did as Cas asked, but the inside of his eyelids still turned white. When the light faded and Dean opened his eyes, the grindylows were gone. All he could see was pale body floating face down some distance away from their boat.

Dean took a deep breath. He could see Sam wiping his brow and Cas with his hands on his knees.

“Sam looked over at the dead body. “I guess this proves my theory about shapeshifting witches.”

Dean heard, but he was only half paying attention. He was rushing over to Cas to check on him.

“Hey, buddy, you ok?”

Cas grunted, “I’m fine.”

“Thanks for that, y’know. You’re ok, right?”

“I said I’m fine,” Cas growled.

Dean took a step back, his heart sinking. “Look, Cas, you know that line about friendship was a joke, right? A pun.”

Cas stood up, but looked away. “Yeah, I know.”

“Then why are you so mad at me?”

“It just...” Cas’ jaw clenched. He looked down at his shoes, then finally up at Dean. “It hit too close to home I guess.”

“Oh, Cas, no.” Dean struggled for words, realizing what Cas meant. “Tell me you don’t mean what I think you mean. I’m not worth-”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Cas growled.

From the front of the boat, Sam interrupted them. “Uh, hey, guys?”

Dean didn’t want to end his conversation with Cas just now, but they were still on a boat in the ocean. He dug his fingernails into his palms. “What?”

“I think I see the witches ship... Except, it looks like it’s being crushed by a... a...”

“What?”

“A giant squid.”

“WHAT?”

“A kraken.”

“It must be Captain Andrea!” said Cas.

“I hope so. If this isn’t the final boss battle, I can’t imagine what’d come next.”

Dean went up to stand by Sam, and sure enough, there was a ship in the distance getting itself crushed by a whole lotta tentacles.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Nothing,” said Dean, far more confidently than he felt.

“Nothing? Against that?”

“Nope. We wait.”

They watched as the witch’s ship crumbled to pieces and slowly sank into the ocean. The kraken had disappeared, and everything seemed far too still. The little boat floated on.

“When I say jump,” Dean whispered to the two of them, “get out of the boat.”

“In to the water?” Sam asked. Dean nodded. “But what about being eaten alive?”

“I’ll handle it,” was all he said.

“Dean-”

But at that moment, the boat was lifted straight up into the air, pushed by a giant monster that roared underneath them.

Dean looked over the edge of the boat, and once he could see the kraken’s head, screamed, “JUMP!”

He didn’t see if Sam or Cas did as he asked, he just pulled out a spare angel blade and leapt off the boat. He landed on what was probably the beast’s snout with a wet thump and began to slide over its head towards its eyes. He could hear the snapping of wood as the kraken turned the boat into kindling, but Dean was only half aware. As he got to one of the kraken’s eyes, he jammed the angel blade into it and straight into its brain.

The monster howled with anguish and dropped back into the ocean, where, once it had been swallowed by the water, popped back into Andrea Sparrow, dead.

Cas had managed to pull himself onto one of the larger splinters of what was left of the Mellon. Only the stars shone a faint light, illuminating the white paint on the scattered shards of their boat. On one of the pieces, he saw a hunched over shape.

“Dean?” he called out. “Sam?”

The shape groaned and shifted, and in a shuddering voice said, “Cas?”

“Sam! Where’s Dean?”

“I don’t know.”

Cas looked out at the ocean, his eyes searching frantically for any sign of the man. “Dean?” he yelled.

Suddenly, there was a burbling behind him. He whipped around and saw Dean, tiredly treading water and trying to get on the wood. “Dean!” The breath rushed out of him in a relieved gasp.

Dean grumbled. “Move over, Rose; there’s plenty of room for two.”

“Dean!” called out Sam. “Are you ok?”

“Fine. Just a little wet.”

Cas pulled him the rest of the way onto the board. “You’re implying that the boat we were just on was as big as the Titanic,” he chided. But as Dean looked up at him nervously, Cas leaned forward and pulled him into a tight hug.

As Dean relaxed into Cas’ arms, he murmured, “I love you.”

Cas tensed, and his voice trembled. “What?”

Dean drew away, but he let his drift up to cup Cas’ face. He brushed his thumb along his cheekbone. “It’s true. But I could never admit not knowing how you felt.” He smiled then gestured around at the water. “Besides, this friendship’s too ruined for what I say to make any difference.”

Cas’s lip quirked. “It’s a boat.”

Dean laughed. “It’s a wreck.” He sighed humorously, looking at Cas who was dripping wet and bathed in moonlight. There was nothing left for him to do but pull the angel close and kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

“Are you guys really gonna do this right now?” Sam yelled from somewhere in the deep, vast ocean.

#AND I INCLUDE THE GIANT SQUID I PROMISED #I WROTE AN ENTIRE STORY ABOUT THE OCEAN JUST SO I COULD MAKE THAT STUPID JOKE #YOU'RE WELCOME XD #but same difference really #destiel fanfic #destielfanficnet #my writing #ok it wasn't quite a giant squid #round two #spn #supernatural fanfic #surprise! this blog isn't run by a robot #the great fic writer scavenger hunt #well #otp: i do everything you ask

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stream-of-distracted-thought · 7 years

Text

Shades of the Black Rose: The Historian’s Quest

“Whoa, girl.” Kylar protested as he pulled on the reins of his mare. The chestnut horse whinnied and stamped her feet in unease in response. Kylar sighed and called to his companion,

“Hold up, sir. Lysa is acting up again.”

Kylar calmed the mare down with a few words and some neck patting. The summer heat was making them both unhappy. Sweat made his black hair stick to his forehead and it trickled from time to time into his violet eyes. Even beneath the shelter of a thick canopy of trees, he had to squint behind his glasses. He was thin, for a young man. He spent so much time in his studies that he neglected his fitness. He barely knew how to swing a sword and wasn’t strong enough to pull back a bowstring. Still, his face as well-shaped and handsome. He wore a light, brown tunic fit for travel along with long pants and muddied boots. A messenger bag was slung over his shoulder with all his writing ink, quills and parchment inside. They had all been new when he had left his home in the port town of Sea Rose, but his journey here had left them all worn and used.

Kylar was current Sea Rose’s historian and he had journeyed past the most eastern border of his home country of Alumina looking for answers. He had journeyed into the country of the Dark Ones, known in their language as the Diwa’ka. They appeared as monsters of all sorts, but five hundred years ago peace had been secured between them and humans.

One of his ancestors had lived during that time, and had written many journals that recorded the town’s history. But there was a problem with the journals. Some appeared to be missing, or problems written about never seemed to be resolved. Or resolutions of problems were written about with no prior mention. There were huge gaps of time where nothing was written at all. And the most curious of all was a mysterious sister who was almost barely mentioned. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Except a sister was mentioned, long after she was supposed to be dead. And she was supposed to have lived in the Darklit City, the home of most of the Dark Ones according to that entry. The trail of clues had led him here, and now he was going to meet his final lead.

Lysa started to act up again. He was convinced it was because of his companion’s horse.

His companion was none other than the current Regent Viceroy of the Darklit City. His name was Ishmar Re’Kajalar. He was a Kaja, a Dark One species known for having black hair, red eyes, pointed ears and a tendency to live to around four-hundred years. They could also move water or, in rare cases, ice to their will. This one was broad in body and face, though his black hair had a little bit of a wave to it. His eyes were blood red, striking and un-nerving in even the brightest summer sun. He was dressed in a tunic which had a hint of silk shimmer to it. It was vivid red to match his eyes and the rest of his attire was black.

The creature Ishmar rode was known as an Adego. It was a species of horse which was as swift as the wind. They were usually known for having glowing eyes and leg stripes. This one was nearly black with vivid green eyes and stripes. The noises it made were not completely horse-like and its scent must have been frightening to a normal equine. He supposed he was lucky that Ishmar wasn’t riding a monstrous Kelpie instead as his species was known to do. The meat eating horse of nightmares would not have gotten along at all with Lysa.

Ishmar watched from down the path as Kylar fought with his mare. He said after a few moments in his deep voice, “We are close to home. Can’t you keep that thing under control?”

Kylar bit back sharp reply. He couldn’t afford to offend the Viceroy. He replied, “She’s tired and the heat isn’t helping. I’m trying my best.”

Ishmar simply nodded in reply. Despite being the second most politically powerful figure to the Diwa’ka, the man was rather stoic, and quiet. And patient, at least. Kylar got Lysa to settle again and they continued through the forest.

The woods around Kylar were known as the Forest of Shadows. It was a massive woodland that stretched from the eastern border of Alumina, from the Winterfrost Mountains to the Gulf of Jade and further east than anyone knew. The Dark Ones had lived there for centuries, though mostly below ground in an enormous cave with a ceiling covered in crystals. The memory of seeing the natural wonder took him back to his meeting with the Dark One’s King. No one knew his name, so he was known simply as the Darklit King.

Kylar stood in the Throne Room of the Darklit King. It was enormous and open, built into a huge stalagmite near the center of the city. The polished gray walls were covered with tapestries that depicted old mythology and history. Chandeliers and crystal filled lanterns lit up all around the room, brightening it with pale blue-purple light. Behind the throne were huge, glassless windows that were open to the cave, overlooking the city. From here you could see the enormous purple crystals that covered the ceiling of the cave. It was a beautiful view.

Around Kylar huddled and idled many Diwa’ka, all part of the King’s court. They muttered to each other as he approached the platform in which the Darklit King sat. Some were very monstrous while others could almost pass as human if not for their unnatural eyes, ears or faces.

There were two steps that led up to a dais, and on that was a chair in which Ishmar sat. He looked down at Kylar with a curious expression. A set of three steps led from the dais to an elevated throne. Kylar knew the Darklit King was there, but he could not see the ruler. He was hidden completely behind several veils of orange and red.

Kylar bowed. The King’s creaky voice rang out from behind the veils. “Hello, young Alumian. What brings you to my court?”

“I apologize for the intrusion, my lord.” Kylar said. “But I seek answers. Answers I feel only you can know. You are the last who lived during the great war.”

Silence met his words for a few moments. Then the King asked, “What are these questions?”

Kylar got straight to the point. “My ancestor had a sister. I found evidence she came to live here. I’m searching for a trace of her, to know of her fate.”

The King asked, “And what is the name of this person?”

“Kikia Calarus.”

Silence met his words again. He saw the faintest shadow of the king shift behind the veil as if the ruler were scratching his chin or resting his head on his hand. He then said,

“I don’t recognize the name. It sounds…familiar but I can’t place why.”

Kylar felt defeated. He asked, “Is there another resource you can point me to? Other than your library? I’ve already searched there.”

“I’m afraid not.” The King replied. “However…”

“What is it, my lord?” Kylar asked excitedly.

“I am not the last of those who lived during the war. There is another.” The King said.

“Another? Who?” Kylar asked with surprise. He couldn’t think of anyone but the King who would still live. The King answered,

“Kanala Re’Kajalar.”

Kylar’s stomach dropped a little with both surprise and anxiety. The name alone rang true through the lands as one of the most famous. Renowned. Feared. The King asked,

“Ishmar, what do you think? Think she will see him?”

“She could use some company.” Ishmar grumbled. “I believe that she will. But do you think she has the answers he is searching for? I don’t want to exhaust her over nothing.”

“Her mind is still sharp. I bet she has the answers.” The King replied. Kylar picked up a hint of teasing in his voice, but without being able to see the King’s face he didn’t know what the monarch was feeling. Ishmar said after a moment,

“I will take him to my farm then at the beginning of next cycle. You can get by without me for a couple of days, right?”

The King chuckled and said, “Of course. Goodness you are starting to sound like her.”

And so here he was.

“We have arrived.”

Kylar was jolted from his memory by Ishmar’s voice as the Viceroy pulled his Adego to a stop just outside the line of trees. Kylar prodded Lysa to catch up and once he was out of the tree line, he saw the plot of land for what it was.

It was large, with enough space for several houses and for fields and barns and livestock. The clearing’s furthest line was so far away it was almost like a dark cloud on the horizon. The houses were clustered together to form what could be considered a small town. A few trees were scattered here and there among them and people were around going about their day. The houses themselves were simple and wooden, most with two stories. The plantation felt homely and welcoming. A gem in a sea of green.

Ishmar was prodding his horse towards the village and called over his shoulder, “Come. You are wasting time.”

“Right. Sorry.” Kylar said as he prodded Lysa into motion. The two rode onto the land, passing tenants working the fields. They were mostly human, having been descended from former slaves who had settled here. They were mostly men. As the two came into the tiny town, Kylar saw women tending to laundry and housework around the buildings. Children squealed as they played nearby. A couple darted past Lysa, who jolted and stamped her feet with frustration. But though the tiny town was much smaller than Sea Rose, Kylar was reminded of home.

Ishmar led him towards the largest house in the village. The building had two stories and was made of wood and stone. What made it stand out from the others was its architecture. It was foreign, though Kylar recognized it as Kaja made. The windows had a distinct rounded shape, with motifs carved out of wood above them. It was taller than the houses around it. It had an elaborate porch that wrapped around the front of the home and the pillars that held up the roof were thin and carved with many detailed patterns. They were painted with blues, reds and whites giving them a mosaicked look. The roof had dark colored shingles that overlapped each other like dragon scales. The building was a beautiful work of art, and he could barely draw his eyes away as Ishmar led him to the nearby stable.

There he dismounted and gave his horse to the stable hand. He was a young boy who bowed to Ishmar and then greeted him in Diwa’lu with informality. Kylar was not completely fluent in the language, but he knew enough to understand.

“Hello sir! We didn’t expect to see you home so soon.”

“I’ve brought a guest for grandmother. Take his horse and make sure it’s well treated.” Ishmar said with a nod. The stable hand saluted and then took Lysa and led her into the stable. The Ishmar motioned for Kylar to follow him. The Viceroy took him to the family house. Kylar climbed the stairs and hesitated at the top. Ishmar opened the door with no trouble and disappeared inside. Kylar took the moment to gather his thoughts.

He was about to meet one of the most influential people in history. Kanala Re’Kajalar had single-handedly brought peace between the three warring countries; the Kingdom of Alumina, the Darklit City and the Imperial Empire to the north. She had reigned over the Diwa’ka as their first Regent Vicereine for three-hundred years. She had fostered prosperity in the once poor and worn down Darklit City. Her reputation alone sent him into a nervous tremor. He didn’t feel adequate enough to even think of being in her presence.

But he took a deep breath and then followed Ishmar inside.

The interior of the home was as beautiful as the outside, with gleaming mahogany wood. It gave off a warm and comforting air. The walls were decorated with all kinds of tapestries and paintings. Lanterns, made of foggy glass and with decorative red painted patterns on them hung on the walls. They were filled with clear crystals that gave off a bright light to see by. Kylar had seen many of these in the Darklit City. They used them as sources of light instead of candle flame, as the smoke had nowhere to go in the Darklit City but to settle at the roof. Flame was forbidden. And here, it was safer to use in a wooden house. Just to the right of the door was a set of stairs leading up to the second floor. Then, a hallway that led into the house. Three rooms sprouted off of this hallway and Kylar realized the house looked much larger on the outside than inside. This home was small, as if it were the same as those around it. Humble and simple. It was unexpected for such a renowned and rich family. He had to admit he was a little disappointed.

Ishmar walked to the doorway of the first room on the left and went in. He glanced over his shoulder as he did, indicating for Kylar to follow him. The historian hurried to catch up.

He rounded the corner and was surprised to see how spacious the living room was. It had a hearth, and many shelves around its walls. They were stuffed with books. A few chairs were scattered around the room, as if in wait for more people to use, but gathering dust as if they had not seen company for a very long time. A couple of small tables were nearby as well in much the same state.

But what caught Kylar’s immediate attention was the ornate wheelchair sitting in front of the low fire. In it, from what he could see, was a woman with long, wavy snow white hair. She was slouched in the chair with her head bowed. She didn’t move and Kylar gathered she was asleep. And he also guessed this was the former Regent Vicereine. He gulped despite himself. She was harmless when asleep, right? He almost didn’t want to wake her.

Ishmar walked to her side and must have taken note that she was asleep too. He gently shook her shoulder and called in Diwa’lu,

“Grandmother?”

Kanala jolted awake with a sharp gasp and then snarled at Ishmar as she took a few steady breaths, “Great Heavens! Ishmar, what are you doing here?! You scared the hell out of me! You know better than that! You know my old training causes me to”-

Ishmar threw his hands up defensively and said, “You didn’t hear the door open and you have a guest. I would think it would be rude to sleep while they were here?”

Kanala calmed a bit and asked, her voice cracking a little, “A guest?”

“An Alumian historian.” Ishmar said and then inclined his head towards Kylar who was still at the door to the living room. Kanala turned her wheelchair slightly and then twisted around to get a good look at him. Their eyes locked and Kylar felt like he couldn’t look away.

Kanala was thin in her old age. It showed in her face. Her skin was pale and lined with wrinkles born from care, station and responsibility. She had the typical red eyes and pointed ears of a Kaja. She wore a lavender, shimmering silk dress and her eyes were lined with black and had a hint of purple eye shadow. A patchwork blanket was draped over her lap and legs. But what caught his attention and made Kylar unable to look away was her right eye. It had a scar that started just above the eyelid and went down to her cheekbone. The eye itself was a milky white, clearly blind.

It caught Kylar by surprise. He hadn’t expected someone of her station to have a wound like that. It also gave her a frightening appearance which was complimented by her stern expression and gaze. A frown slowly deepened on her face. She then asked in Alumian,

“What is it?”

Kylar stumbled to reply. “I-I-uh-I”-

She let out a small, irritated sigh and said, “Get a good look at my eye. This is what happens when you are in the middle of conflict. You have to sacrifice things. I wouldn’t expect you do know that though, soft idiot.”

Kylar was taken aback and already regretting ever coming here. He’d just offended one of the most important people ever. He felt like a fool. Ishmar however, came to his rescue.

“Grandmother, have you forgotten that you are the one who fought so hard for this extended peace that let him live this way? In a world that is kinder to him and that will never force him to go through what you did?” Kanala paused, and her anger deflated a little. Ishamar finished, “You are always so temperamental.”

Kanala grumbled as she turned back towards the fire, “I grow weary of people staring.”

Ishmar replied softly, “It’s a sight. It’s hard not to stare.”

Kylar blurted, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Kanala acknowledged him with a slight turn of her head, but she didn’t meet his eyes. Ishmar said, “He’s come to ask you some questions. Apparently the King thinks you have them.”

Kanala scoffed and said with a chuckle, “Bash the old codger. Sending guests to bother me in my old age.”

Kylar got the impression that Kanala had been very close to the King if she would say something ill of him. As if he were an old thorn in her side. She then motioned Kylar in and said,

“Come on then. Stop lingering at the door. I won’t bite. Well, most of the time I don’t. Depends on how stupid you are.”

Kylar didn’t know what to make of that. She sounded serious, but teasing at the same time. He quietly entered the room. Ishmar went and grabbed one of the chairs from around the room and placed it next to the fire, tilted so that it was facing it and Kanala. Kylar sat in it ungainly, trying to compose himself and trying not to offend further.

As he set his bag on the ground he noticed that Kanala was struggling to get her chair turned to face him. That was when he noticed how dilapidated and weak her left arm appeared to be. She was having trouble grasping the ring on the wheel of her chair to help it turn. Ishmar noticed to and with a respectful bow he offered, “May I?”

Kanala hesitated, but relented with a small nod. She put the weak limb back on the armrest, and Kylar saw how it hung oddly as if it had no strength in it at all. He supposed it was yet another injury. He did his best not to stare this time as Ishmar turned the wheelchair to face the Alumian.

But still, she must have caught him. This time though, she was much kinder. She lifted the limb and waggled it at him and said, “Do yourself a favor and watch your head in a fight. You might end up like me then.”

Kylar nodded a little in return. He didn’t know if she was joking or serious. She was the hardest person to read that he had ever met. He said, “I’m sorry. Is it just your arm?”

“Leg too.” She replied with a shrug, leaning back in her chair. “I’m stuck in this thing for a reason.”

“I see.” He said. Kanala then seemed to be searching for something. She asked,

“Where did my glasses get too?”

Ishmar found them on the table next to her, on top of an open book. He picked them up and handed them to her. She put them on and then looked Kylar up and down again. Ishmar then said, “I’ll have Lucil make tea for you both.”

Kylar suddenly realized the Viceroy wasn’t going to stay. He almost asked him to do so. But the stoic man was already leaving. Kylar watched him go but his attention was drawn back to Kanala as she said,

“Welcome to my home. I apologize for not greeting you before. I’m guessing that you already know me but introductions are introductions. I am Kanala Kajalar, daughter of Ishmar and Desdemonia Kajalar. Former Regent Vicereine of the Diwa’cita and former matriarch of the Re’Kajalars.”

Already questions bubbled up in Kylar and he asked, trying to make small talk so he could gage just who Kanala was and how to speak with her. So far she wasn’t what he had expected. He asked, “Ishmar…so your grandson is named after your father.”

“He is.”

“And…you don’t view yourself as a Re’Kajalar?” He asked.

“I never took the name officially. It was others that placed the Re’ there. I am, and always will be just a Kajalar.” She replied steadily. Kylar realized there was note of resentment in her old, creaking voice. She clearly didn’t like the prefix.

In Diwa’lu, a Re’ was placed before a title for someone of royalty. Re’lorda in Diwa’lu meant King or more directly, royal lord. The Re’ had been added to the Kajalars of Kanala’s line after the great war due to her significant actions.

There were so many questions that Kylar suddenly wanted to ask. He had Kanala here now. He could ask her anything about the war. But she gave him an expectant expression and he startled. He still hadn’t introduced himself.

“Oh. Right. My name is Kylar Calarus.” He said. “Current town historian of Sea Rose.”

Kanala asked suddenly, “Which line?”

Kylar was surprised by the seriousness in her voice. He replied, “The main line. Descendent of Hyrio.”

Kanala got an unreadable glint to her eyes. As if she were lost in a memory. She was silent for so long, Kylar thought maybe she had fallen asleep with her eyes open. He cleared his throat and she jolted up a little. She quickly asked,

“How long was I gone?”

“Uh…you didn’t…leave?” He responded.

Kanala shook her head and said, “No. I…I had a moment, I think.”

“What?” Kylar asked in confusion. Kanala explained,

“It’s the head injury again. I zone out sometimes. Well that’s what it looks like to others. I feel like I’m reliving some memory.”

“That sounds like a flashback.” Kylar said.

“It is, in a way. But it’s still different. It’s very hard to describe. It’s a seizure without the convulsing.” She said with a small shake of her head. She then asked, “I apologize. I wasn’t gone for too long then?”

“Only a few moments.” Kylar replied. Kanala said,

“If it happens again, don’t mind it. Just try to get my attention.”

“Of-of course, my lady.”

Kanala gave him a weird look and said, “My lady? I’m not a ruler anymore.”

“What shall I call you then?”

“Lady Kajalar, if you must.” She replied with a sigh. “I suppose formalities are formalities.”

Kylar felt a smile play across his lips. He replied, “I take it you don’t like them?”

Kanala shrugged. “Not much. I was never one to put much weight into them.”

“I apologize then, but I don’t think I would be comfortable calling you by your first name as if we were friends.” He said.

Kanala only nodded a little in reply. She suddenly looked tired as she said, “I haven’t had anyone call me by my name in a very long time. You come to miss it.”

He wasn’t sure she was looking for a reply to that statement. It seemed to him that she was giving him advice in some weird way. Kylar cleared his throat again with nervousness and asked, “I…uh, do you mind if I ask your exact age?”

A smile came to Kanala’s face as she replied, “Four hundred and ninety-six.”

Kylar couldn’t imagine living that long. He simply said, “That’s a long time.”

“Yes, longer than most Kaja.” Kanala replied.

The sound of footsteps from the hall interrupted them. A young woman with honey brown hair walked into the room carrying a tray. She had green eyes and fair skin with freckles around her eyes. Kylar guessed this was Lucil. She set the tray on a nearby table and said,

“My lady, tea is ready. Would you like your normal cup?”

Kanala nodded. Kylar asked with a smirk and a hope he could joke with Kanala as she seemed to with him, “Why does she get to call you my lady?”

Kanala returned his smirk and said, “She’s a servant in my house. It’s”-

“Formality, right?” Kylar said, trying to put on a mask of false confidence. He’d done this many times before. Pretending to be someone he wasn’t was not uncommon for him. He found that adjusting his personality to specific people helped them to warm up to him and then give him more information. She gave him a grin in return.

Lucil poured tea into a cup and added a few cubes of sugar. Then she set the cup on a tiny plate and brought it to the table next to Kanala. The old woman wasted no time picking it up and blowing on it. Lucil then asked him,

“How do you like your tea?”

“Plain, if you please.”

She nodded, poured him a cup and brought it to him. He took the tiny plate the cup was on. She then brought one of the tables to his side. She said, “You can put it down here.”

He nodded and then she asked Kanala,

“Should I fetch anything else, my lady?”

“Not now. Thank you Lucil.”

Lucil bowed and then left the room with the tray. Kanala slowly sipped at her tea. Kylar wiped dust off of the table that had been brought to him and said jokingly,

“You don’t see much company do you?”

“I’ve no friends who still live and I nor my grandsons keep company with other Kaja.” She replied. Kylar was a little surprised. He asked,

“Why not?”

“Because the Kaja are still learning and still changing. There are too many that still cling to the old ways. Too many that despise me.”

“Despise you? Surely not after all you did?” Kylar asked.

“Sometimes, you can never do enough.” Kanala said. She gazed into her tea cup looking tired again as if she had walked a long journey with no end.

Kylar felt his confident persona slip away. He could feel her sadness and it affected his mood. He tried to bring back the cheer that had been in her only moments before by saying, “Is it just the Kaja? I got the impression from the history books that you were well liked by the Diwa’ka.”

“By most, I suppose. But a few of the species still don’t like me.” Kanala replied. Kylar pointed out,

“I guess that makes more sense, seeing as they have been building a statue of you outside the palace.”

Kanala suddenly looked shocked. She exclaimed, “What?!”

Kylar said, “Yea, it’s nearly finished. The King commissioned it. You didn’t know about it?”

Kanala suddenly let out a stream of swear words, which took Kylar even more by surprise. He never expected her to be so crass. She finished, “That annoying decrepit rat! He knows I’m too old and too weak to make the journey back to the Crystal Cave! He knew I wouldn’t ever see it. I told him to never, ever, ever make any sort of shrine or embellishment for me! What I did was for the betterment of everyone, not for fame or glory!”

She stopped, panting. It seemed the expel of anger left her breathless. Kylar said after a few moments, “I mean, putting aside your whole life for the betterment of others is kind of note-worthy, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps note-worthy. Not worth the work and toil for a pointless idol.” Kanala snapped. “I don’t deserve to be remembered like that.”

Kylar didn’t know what to make of that statement. Did she mean that she didn’t want to be remembered? Or that she disliked the way she was being idolized? Surely she knew that after everything she did and her ascension and founding of the Viceroy position she would go down in the history books at least? The way she talked, it seemed like the fame that came with her station was unwanted. He asked,

“Surely you knew this would happen?”

She was silent for a long time. So long he thought she had slipped into another flashback. But then she said, “Yes, I knew. But I never wanted it. I just wanted a quiet, happy and uneventful life. I want that peace in my old age and in my death. I’m just…I’m just a living person. I’m not an idol, not a god, no one who deserves to be looked up to after all I’ve done.”

“But you’ve done a many great things! You brought peace”- Kylar started to protest.

“I’ve done twice as many evil things as I have done good.” She said, cutting him off. “I have snuffed out more lives than half of the people in your beloved Sea Rose. I have seen and I have been evil.”

She fell silent again, her bright red eye glittering with pain. Kylar felt like he had made her melancholy worse. He wasn’t sure how to pull her out of it. But she took a deep breath and shook her head. She met his eyes again and asked,

“So, the King sent you here to question me. What is it that you want to know?”

Kylar hesitated, but then said, “I mentioned I was the town historian. I do a lot of research on my home town.”

Kanala didn’t respond as he paused, only stared. He quickly continued, “I spent a lot of time reading the journals and letters of my ancestors. One in particular has fascinated me for a long time.”

“And who was this ancestor?” She asked as she sipped her tea again.

“Amarillia Calarus.”

Kanala met his eyes but her expression was neutral. He asked, “Did you know her?”

The old woman nodded after a few moments. “Yes, I knew her.”

“She kept many journals over her life time, but their patterns are odd, as if some of the journals are missing or lost. Parts of her story as told by them feel incomplete.”

Kanala said after a moment, “That fits her, if my memory has not failed me. Someone told me once her brain was full of fluff.”

Kylar was taken aback. He said slowly, “Not true. Not if her journals are anything to go by.”

Kanala shrugged. “I did not know her well.”

Kylar went on, “Well, it’s these holes that I am trying to fill.”

“I see.” Kanala said. “I’m afraid you’ve come to another dead end. I didn’t know Amarillia all that well. I knew her because of her actions and little else.”

Kylar said, “Well, what I came to ask about isn’t about her. It’s about her sister.”

Kanala’s expression seemed to harden. Was he imagining that? He continued, “Kikia Calarus. Amarillia’s journals indicate that she lived in the Darklit City at that time. Did you know of her?”

Kanala shook her head and said, “No. I was under the impression that she had died early in her lifetime.”

“But you knew of her?”

“I knew of her.” Kanala replied, begrudgingly. Her eyes dropped back to her tea. “I don’t know what became of her if she lived. The city is large and there are thousands who live there.”

Kylar once again felt defeated. He had come so far only to run into a brick wall. But then, suddenly something struck him as odd. He quickly asked,

“Wait. How did you know she died early? That makes it sound like you knew of her even before she came here?”

Kanala was silent for a few long moments. Then she answered, “She was a spy for us. For the King. She died on her return journey here.”

“That doesn’t match the journals.” Kylar pointed out.

“Perhaps Amarillia was going senile in her old age?” Kanala countered. Kylar thought, She’s hiding something. I can feel it. He then asked,

“Yea, I suppose you are right. She was supposed to have been killed. At least, that’s what the journals say and the scant records that have survived. Do you know what happens to those who betrayed their country at the time?”

“I do not.” Kanala replied. He thought he saw a brief flash of relief in her expression. He explained,

“Their existence was erased from the history books. So information on her is hard to find. But since you seem to know at least a little about her, do you know why she would have been accepted here before the laws against slavery were enforced?”

“She looked like a Dark One.” Kanala explained. “Unusual circumstances led to that.”

There it is! If she didn’t know Kikia very well, how would she know what the reason for her appearance would be? Kylar thought. He asked,

“What sort of circumstances?”

He thought he was going to get more information but suddenly, Kanala realized she’d said too much. She asked sharply,

“Why do you want to know about her so much? Why is she important to you?”

“She’s part of Sea Rose history and she’s my ancestor. That’s why she’s important.” He replied calmly though his heart started to beat at a fast rate. He then said, “You know more than you are telling me. What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” Kanala said with insistence. “I didn’t know her.”

“But you knew why she looked the way she did? That doesn’t make sense!” He protested. “Lady Kajalar. Please, tell me the truth.”

“I’ve nothing more to say.” Kanala said.

“Please.” He insisted. She repeated,

“I’ve nothing left to say about her.”

So she’d clammed up. Kylar felt frustration mix with his anxiety. His grip on the teacup tightened. He was done here. His journey was wasted because his last lead would not speak the truth. It made his anger bitter. He put his teacup down on the table. Then he said, barely hiding his irritancy, “Thank you for your time, Lady Kajalar. I’ll be going now.”

He got up abruptly and stormed from the house. He didn’t look back to see what Kanala’s reaction was. At this point, he didn’t care if he offended her. He went straight for the stable. He didn’t want to stay here any longer. Not with his failure hanging over his head. Not with this feeling of betrayal.

He reached his horse and surprised the stable hand. He had been brushing his horse. The boy startled when he came to the stall and asked,

“S-sir?”

“I’ll be leaving now. Would you mind getting my horse ready?” He asked. The boy nodded and retrieved the saddle. After a few silent moments the boy asked,

“Is everything alright sir?”

Kylar didn’t want to spill out his frustrations, but he did anyway, hoping it would make him feel better. “I’ve met a dead end. Lady Kajalar won’t tell me what I seek.”

The boy was silent for a bit but then said, “I’ve only spoken with the Lady once. I only ever see her from far off when she comes out onto the porch for her afternoon tea. Mother says she carries a lot of weight on her shoulders, though. That she’s often sad. She’s lived an abnormally long life for a Kaja. Maybe that’s why.”

Kylar then asked, coming up with a new idea, a new way to get the information, “What about Kanala’s children? Could I speak to them?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. All her children are dead. The last, Lord Ishamel died long before I was born.” The stable hand answered. Kylar kept back a growl of frustration. He asked,

“What about Ishmar?”

“Depends on the question. What is it sir?”

“It’s about a woman named Kikia Calarus. She lived during the great war.”

The stable hand frowned and said, “I’ve never heard the name before, sir. I don’t know if Ishmar knows anything about it either. He and the Lady are not very close. Ishmar lived in the Diwa’cita much of his young life, only coming up here to visit the Lady and his cousins.”

“I thought he owned this land?” Kylar commented. The boy explained,

“Part of it, yes. The land belongs to all Re’Kajalars. But not all live here. The Lady had three children, two which lived here. The first son’s family is the one that looks after the land. The daughter’s family are the ambassadors who attend the courts of the Alumians and Imperial Empire. The late Lady Haria lived in the main home when she was not attending the courts of the other countries. And the second son, Ishmar’s family, are the ones who continued in holding the title of Viceroy. They live in the King’s Palace.”

“I see.” Kylar replied, not really interested anymore. His hope had been dashed for good. He asked, “Where is the first son’s family?”

“Out in the fields. Lord Kesh prefers to actually be out there with the tenants. You probably didn’t see him coming in. He’s in the outer fields today.”

“And his wife?”

“Away visiting her family with their children in the Darklit City.”

“The way Kanala talked, she acted as if she had no one to talk to. Surely Lord Kesh’s wife lives in the house?” Kylar mused. The boy replied as he started to tighten the saddle on Lysa’s back,

“They talk, I hear. But Lady Bhyreac doesn’t get along well with the Lady Kajalar. It’s something to do with the Lady being wild and uncouth. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Wild? She seemed calm to me.”

“That’s because you didn’t know her in her youth.”

The deep voice of Ishmar startled Kylar almost out of his skin and he whipped around to see the Viceroy approach the stall. His red eyes were emotionless as always, even as he scolded,

“Still trying to dig up information even in defeat, are we?”

Kylar said, “I’m sorry. It’s in my nature.”

Ishmar shook his head and turned to the stable hand and ordered, “Take that saddle off. He’s not leaving yet.”

Kylar retorted, “What?! You can’t keep me here. My business is done.”

“My grandmother calls you back.”

Kylar was stunned for a few moments. Then he asked, “W-what? She was done-we were done talking.”

Ishmar shrugged and said, “I did say she’s temperamental. She changed her mind. Come.”

Kylar was tempted to still say no, but his want of information shoved the feeling aside. He followed Ishmar back to the home and back to the hearth. There, he saw Kanala with her eyes closed, leaning to one side of her wheelchair. She had taken her glasses off and was rubbing the bridge of her nose as if she had a migraine.

Ishmar indicated for him to sit with a small tilt of his head towards the chair. Kylar did reluctantly. Ishmar then took his leave again. Kylar waited for what seemed like forever. Then Kanala took a deep shuddering breath and placed the glasses on her nose again. She then said, meeting his eyes without hesitation.

“I must apologize. I was rude to you, as my guest. That is not acceptable. My mother would have strung me from the beams of the roof if she were still alive.”

Kylar had a hard time imagining anyone doing anything of the sort to Kanala. She closed her eyes again, as if she were trying to lift a huge weight off of her shoulders and was failing. She then asked, “You wanted to know about Kikia Calarus?”

“More than anything right now.” Kylar said.

Kanala nodded slowly and said, “I did know her. I knew her very well, in fact. Though she did die when she was young.”

Kylar wanted to point out the evidence against that in Amarillia’s journals again, but didn’t want to push Kanala too far. So he waited in silence. Kanala continued without prompt, “At least in spirit. At…I…I did everything I could to make her existence disappear.”

Her eyes dropped to the floor. She paused as if the words coming across her tongue were stuck there. As if they were coming from deep within her after being buried for years. She closed her eyes again, breathing slowly. Kylar said,

“Why?”

Kanala was silent for a long time. She said, “There’s a reason that some of Amarillia’s journals appear to be missing.”

She turned to look at one of the nearby book shelves, one with a long row of black bound books. Familiar, black bound books. She explained, “Because I have them. I thought I had gotten all of them with mention of…of her in them. Of…”

She stopped and rubbed the bridge of her nose again. She mumbled, “But I failed. Again.”

Kylar was left feeling as confused as before. Watching the old woman wrestle with herself was hard. His gaze drifted from her to the books. Amarillia’s missing journals. He asked gently,

“Why do you have them? What is hidden within? Is it what Kikia did?”

Kanala didn’t reply. Kylar finally realized that questioning her like this wasn’t easing her tension. He had to let her release the information on her own. She finally said after another extended pause, “It’s a very long story.”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Kylar replied. “I have all the time in the world.”

“And I’ve barely got any left.” She said in a near whisper. “Someone…should know. I cannot hide forever.”

Kanala looked up at his expectant face after she said that. She slowly began,

“It began in Alumina, almost 500 years ago…”

_______________________________

Hello everyone! I present here a little teaser for the book series that I am writing called Shades of the Black Rose. I wanted to put out a super early teaser for future readers to find and perhaps to get some interest in the project from people outside my friends circle.

While this teaser is a bit clique, I wanted to touch base on a few of the characters here, who we do not see in the normal series and one who we only see while she is young. (I’m talking about Kanala of course!) I wrote it out for my own sake, but decided to share it. It will most likely never appear in the main series and is a side story that I wanted to tell. So for those of you who are reading this far into the future after this has been published, I hope you enjoyed the first public look at the series.

If you are interested in the story, or want to help out a new author, please share this around and feel free to ask questions. Just make sure my credentials are attached still. It would help me out a lot!

~ L. Chelsea Webb

#stream of distracted thought #starteller794 #Shades of the Black Rose #SOBR #teaser #book teaser

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