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babbushka · 3 years

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Biting Dust - Ch.3

Life ain’t too easy for a woman, ‘specially not a woman on the run like you. With a bounty on your head and gunpowder in your nose, you’ve grown adjusted to a life of solitude away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. That is, until you meet one particular man who’s got a face you’d only ever seen in your dreams – or on wanted posters. And when he offers you a proposition that sounds too good to be true, well. You don’t think your life will ever be the same again…

Outlaw!Kylo Ren x Reader

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5.5k ; Content Warnings: Mentions of scars, mention of injury, mention of blood ; NSFW (Masturbation [Kylo jerking off], leather kink, scent kink/turned on by smells, mild praise kink)

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You wake up with the sun, with the earth. The sky blazes in a pink and purple blanket of clouds, cacti juttin’ up proudly from the ground, a black silhouette against the pale light of mornin’. The birds are your first call, the alarm mother nature herself has set for you, the one which you’ve obeyed every day for as long as you can remember. There’s too many of them, the chirps, all of them in an off-beat harmony that goes on echoin’ over the gorge.

The water is your second alarm, the soft rush of the river as it twists and turns ‘round the bend a thousand feet below. The sound of it alone has you sighin’ with relief, knowin’ you’ve made it to water. Water wasn’t too easy to come by out in the desert, but the chicken scratch on that map had done you good, had led you straight to where you needed to be.

The sound of footsteps approachin’ is your third alarm – and this alarm was one felt deep in your gut. Sittin’ upright real fuckin’ fast and holdin’ the gun steady in the direction of the sound, you blink away the sleep sand from your eyes and level a glare so mean it coulda killed the sonofabitch stranger on the spot.

But then you open your eyes a little further, and you focus on just who the sonofabitch is, and you sigh.

Oh right, you can’t help but think with a groan. Kylo Ren.

He looks well rested, if a little scruffy. Scruffy, you think with a scowl, how the hell does he look so sleep mussed and yet still handsome? That wasn’t right, not one damn bit.

The events of the day prior come slammin’ through you all at one, and you toss the gun down lightly as you fall back onto the bundle of sacks that you’ve called your pillow, stretchin’ your limbs way high up over your head. Kylo is chipper, a mornin’ person it would seem, and he’s standin’ over you blockin’ out the sun from your eyes like a gentleman.

“Mornin’ Angel.” He greets you, offerin’ you a hand. “Sleep tight?”

You regard the hand, regard him.

The fact that you woke up at all is a surprisin’ one – a damn surprisin’ one. You’d’ve thought, well, you were almost certain he woulda left you stranded, if he left you alive at all. But there he was, his hand outstretched, and you take it, allowin’ him to help haul you up onto your feet.

“You didn’t kill me.” You say instead of a proper greeting, and Kylo rolls his eyes.

“Well that would go directly against the proclamation I gave to offer my protection, now wouldn’t it?” He replies sarcastically, puffin’ on that same cigarette he had worked on last night.

You try not to think about how good it looks between his crooked teeth.

“Those were just words.” You shrug, avertin’ your gaze and regardin’ the horses. Agnes and Sam seemed to be chumming up real nicely, the both of them grazing side by side on the few desert plants that managed to grow near the gorge. “I didn’t think you’d actually meant ‘em.”

“If there’s one thing you should know ‘bout me, it’s that I say what I mean and I mean what I say.” Kylo is serious in a way that makes you raise a brow, and he continues, “Too many tragedies get born from mis-communicatin’, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know.” You lie, not feelin’ like divulging anything about yourself to this man, not yet. You don’t know him, don’t trust him, how could you?

Yes he didn’t go killin’ you when he had the chance but what if that meant he was savin’ it up to kill you later? What if --

“Are you hungry?” Kylo interrupts your train of thought before you can spiral down into a paranoid place. It was just strange, so damn strange, the way he regards you so calmly. Even up in the tree he had spoken to you like he’d known you your whole lives.

You were sure you’d never met him, a face like his wasn’t one folks seldom came across, and one even less likely to forget.

Dusting off the beautiful Hopi blanket and folding it neatly, you think the question over. Really, your stomach was still pretty full from the meals you’d enjoyed at the hotel, and you knew that the earlier in the day you started eatin’, the hungrier you’d be later on. It was a tough life, and on your own you’d gone too many days without food at all in your belly, so the thought of givin’ any of it up now didn’t sit too right with you.

“I’ve got some dried fruit and nuts in the knapsack,” You say anyway, because really energy was good and you would need it to deal with him, this man. Kylo nods once and makes to rifle through the knapsack, and you don’t know what comes over you but you offer, “We’ll split it.”

Kylo looks at you with an expression you can’t quite place. He looks caught off-guard by that, by the offer. And maybe he was, food bein’ so scarce out here in the desert the way it was, particularly for a coupl’a outcasts like yourselves. You try not to think about those two dollars you gave up the day before.

You wonder if Kylo’s got any money, what might be in his knapsacks he rides around with.

“I boiled us come coffee.” He blinks, and you blink too – well, you think, there’s one thing he carries on him.

The fire from last night must’a smoldered out while the both of y’all were asleep, because there’s fresh brush smokin’ up into the morning sky when you turn to take in the sight of the tin coffee pot bubblin’ away. As a matter of fact, Kylo moves over there now with the fruit and nuts in his hand, fixes a cup while it’s nice and fresh and so it don’t get scorched. You’ll have to drink from the same cup, you realize, because you don’t have one. The only thing you’ve got are the canteens for water, and you can’t go pourin’ coffee into that.

“How long have you been awake?” You ask, gratefully accepting a big handful of nuts and some dried apricots.

“Before the sun, wanted to get the coffee started, and needed to go lookin’ for some salve, for this here burn.” Kylo tilts his head to the side and exposes the nasty red gash that winds itself ‘round his throat. He grumbles and scowls, “Hurts like a bitch it does.”

You toss back a big swig of the coffee and crunch down on a couple pecans before you pull one of the bags over and begin openin’ up the different pockets and pouches, lookin’ for the jar of ointment you know is there.

“C’mere.” You wave him over when you do find it.

It ain’t a big jar or nothin’ like that, but it’s still good, smells just fine. If anythin’ was gonna soothe that burn it would be this. You had purchased it from a medicine man some months back as a precaution, and though you know you’d have to use the whole thing on him eventually, it beat lettin’ the ointment spoil and wastin’ the money.

Kylo sits close to you, real close. Too close, the way he was yesterday, in your personal space. You’re wary of him, but he sits real still, eyeing the ointment. It’s now that you actually take time to look at what he’s wearin’, as you push his clothes out of the way.

He’s got a long coat somewhere, you remember seein’ it hangin’ around his body up in the tree. He’d been hidin’ a smartly fitted pair of brown corduroy trousers and heeled boots, a white button down with billowing sleeves, and a dark red waistcoat underneath it. There was a gold chain peekin’ out of one of the waistcoat pockets, and you’re pretty sure it’s a watch.

You wonder if he’s got someone’s picture in it.

Somehow, this close to you, he’s enormous. Absolutely the biggest man you’ve ever seen, his hands alone are longer than your face, you can tell just by the way he runs his fingers through his long dark hair.

He sits still, real still, and closes his eyes. Ever so gently, you scoop up a little bit of the salve and hold your breath as it makes contact with his neck. Kylo doesn’t wince, doesn’t do anything as you smear the ointment against his angry skin, and you have to admit, you’re impressed. Even if this were another exaggerated display of toughness, you’re impressed.

You make sure to cover every bit of the rope burn, mostly because you don’t want it to get infected. It’ll likely scar, but Kylo’s got bigger and badder scars to concern himself with, you doubt that this one will bother him much. And if it does, well, too fuckin’ bad, at least he ain’t dead.

“Thank you.” Kylo says softly, his voice deep in the quiet of the morning. He’s so close, too close, as you close the little jar and put it back in your knapsack for when you know you’ll have to reapply it for him. Kylo watches as you do so, bringin’ his cigarette back up to his lips and humming, “You’ve got magic in that bag or somethin’?”

“Not magic, just a lifetime of shit.” You say, and for the first time that you let him see, you smile at him.

Kylo’s still too close, and he doesn’t go movin’ away once the bag is closed and you pluck the cup of coffee from his hands, bring it up to your lips and take a sip of the bitter brown brew.

“I reckon we’re goin’ down to that there river, ain’t we?” Kylo nods in the direction of the bend, and you smack your lips, the coffee coating the roof of your mouth.

“You’d be reckonin’ right. It won’t take long, maybe only an hour on account of havin’ to be real careful the horses don’t slip, and then we can move along the river.” That was the plan anyway.

Yesterday you’d been privy to a nice long soak, and it had done your muscles wonders, but you had a bundle of bloodied clothin’ you needed to get washed and get washed ASAP. You were still in the blue dress, and you knew you’d feel much more comfortable in your ridin’ clothes, except the ridin’ clothes were stained through with dried blood right about this time.

That was going to be a bitch to get out, you think as you sip your coffee, but you try to remain optimistic about it. Really it only mattered if the blue dress stayed nice, that was the only one townsfolk were liable to see.

“Where are we headed, when we follow the river?” Kylo takes the cup of coffee back and pulls a deep swig out of it.

“I’m going to Colorado.” You make a point of emphasizing, and he only frowns with something like concern.

“Central City or Victor?” He chews on his lip, his good eye a little too bright, a little too interested.

“I’ve heard nice things about Victor. I think there might be a good chance of gold there.” You shrug with one shoulder, feigning interest.

Whatever Kylo might be after, whatever he might want, you don’t want him to know that you want this more, more desperately than anything anyone could ever want.

“So it’s gold that you’re after.” He muses, and you snap your head to glare at him.

“It’s freedom I’m after.” You’re real quick to correct him, not wantin’ you to think that you’re just some greedy person wantin’ to get their hands on every last penny they can. You knew people like that – had known – and you never wanted to be anything like them. It’s just that, “Freedom don’t come cheap, and gold’s the best place to start with something like that.”

Kylo looks down into his coffee for a long while, contemplatin’ what you’ve just said. You wish you could see inside his head, wish you could hear what he was thinkin’. Was he the same? Was he itching for a plot of peace and quiet and calm?

Where had he been headed, when you’d found him?

“I can take you there, to Victor. I’ve been before, so I know the way. Shortcuts through the canyons and everything, I swear.” Kylo pinches out the cigarette and sticks it back in his pocket, clears his throat a little. “I’m good for it, you’ll see. Besides, it’s less conspicuous to go travelin’ in pairs than for a woman to go ridin’ into town alone, ‘specially a rough town like Victor.”

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you.” Unless yesterday, you’re not quite so venomous with the way you respond. In fact, you find yourself in a rather teasin’ playful kinda mood now that the caffeine is perkin’ up your system. “I seem to recall between the two of us, I was the one cuttin’ you down.”

Maybe Kylo’s in a playful mood too, because that almost gets a smile out of him.

“Fair enough. But seeing as you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future anyway, might as well take advantage of my good sense of direction.” He points out, and you have to ask:

“What’s in it for you?”

Kylo hesitates on that for a little while. He looks over to the rising sun, now well into the sky. It’s no longer purples and pinks, but the pale blue you’ve grown so used to seein’ hanging over your head. Birds fly high above you, their wings spready wide.

You wish you could fly.

“My gang’s waitin’ for me there. We got separated few weeks back, and that’s always been the meet-up spot. I’m hopin’ that, if they’re alive, they’re there and waitin’. I’d like to at the very least get there to find out.” Kylo says finally.

“Those would be the Knights of Ren.” You muse, still not really believing him. You’ll call him Kylo and you won’t kill him for it, but you’re not convinced, not really.

“That they would.” Still he sticks true to his story, and something changes in his voice with the way he talks about him, “They’re the closest thing to family a guy like me could ever get, and if I’m bein’ honest with you Angel, I’d very much like to get home to them.”

You sigh and get up, brush off the sand from the skirt of your dress and offer him a hand.

He looks at it, looks at you, then back at it, and with a hopeful glimmer in his eye, he takes it.

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The journey down the canyon is done in silence, mostly outta concentration. Neither of you want to distract the horses as they make their way down the perilously narrow pathways carved out of the canyon by millions of years of rivers flowin’ through these parts, so you stay quiet.

It’s nice, the quiet, gives you time to appreciate the beauty of it all. You’re surprised Kylo manages to shut up for two seconds, with how chatty he seems to be. You can’t go blamin’ him too bad though you suppose, if he’s been on the run as long as you have, if he’s been alone as long as you have, a fresh face to talk to was probably the most welcome thing Kylo could’ve asked for.

Eventually, you do get to the bottom of the gorge, and Agnes and Sam both make a beeline to the river’s edge. You and Kylo have to yank on the reigns and get them to slow down, they’re too excited and it would be really shit to have all your bags soaked.

An hour or two after breakfast you find yourselves face to face with Horseshoe Bend, the lush vegetation that grows right along the bank. The water is a rich blue, and the land around it is a deep green, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something this magical, so refreshing after eons of red and orange dirt.

The first plan is to fill the canteens, which you do right away. You fill them all up until there ain’t no air left, and then you fill ‘em up some more. Then, you decide, you have to wash the blood outta your clothes.

Kylo watches you do that right on the bank, doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t ask any questions, and for that you’re grateful. You wouldn’t have the answers to go givin’ him. He leaves you to your own devices as a matter of fact, walks away from where you’re kneeled over the steady stream of water to go tend to Sam.

Something comes over you, and idea, a notion poppin’ into your head.

You begin to strip down to nothin’, not a stitch of clothing on you, and you tiptoe into the river.

It’s a risk, of course.

But it’s also a challenge.

He wants you to trust him. Trustin’ means vulnerability, and you can’t think of nothin’ more vulnerable than this. If he wants you to open yourself up to him, well shit. He’s gonna have to open himself up to you too. So there you are, naked in the river. The water is cold against your skin, the current whooshing between your legs. Every now and again a fish bumps into your shin, and you suck in a small breath of surprise as it passes you to continue its journey down the river.

Your back is to Kylo, givin’ him time to make a decision – join you or not. You haven’t decided yet what you’ll do if he joins you, but you hold your breath and wait.

A few moments and some rustling later, you hear the light splashing of Kylo stepping in too, and your pulse pounds. You’re not quite right next to one another or nothin’, but definitely close enough that he should be able to hear you when you chew your lip, the inside of your cheek, and ask,

“Are you lookin’?”

You don’t know what answer you want him to give.

“No.” Kylo says, says it hesitantly. He doesn’t say it like it’s a complete sentence, like there’s more he wants to tumble out of his mouth, but nothing comes.

“Do you want to?” You whisper, turning to face him.

You smile briefly, because he’s turned away from you too.

Only for a moment though, before he’s glancing over his shoulder and lookin’ at you, really lookin’ at you.

Exposed, is how you feel, in a word. Your shoulders are squared and your chin is raised in defiance, your tits out above the water. It’s almost a dare, seeing how long it’ll take him to glance down, to break the staring contest you’ve found yourselves in.

He breaks first, you find with a small thrill, as you watch him look at you, take in the sight of your body. His is…a marvel. Incredible, really. He’s so wide? Impossibly broad, the kind of shoulders you could sit on with no problem. And he was wide all the way down, stomach not tapering down to trim hips – no, this man was sold through and through.

Solid, and covered in scars. He shows them off proudly, the same way you show yourself. It’s a challenge, a dare, a plea. You don’t know what you’re askin’ for, but it’s a plea nonetheless. Hesitantly, he takes a step towards you. He’s askin’ for permission in this silent way, a hand outstretched. You bite the inside of your cheek and take a step towards him.

This dance continues, one step after the other, the both of y’all coming to meet in the middle.

It’s the water, you reckon. The cooling river washing away your sins, your crimes. It took the blood out of your clothes, will it rinse the very same from your hands?

Suddenly, somehow, he’s too close again.

This time, for some reason, you don’t mind.

You tilt your head the barest bit, and whatever you’re askin’ for, he seems to be answerin’, by resting his forehead against your own. He hunches down and curls himself around you to fit, to make up the distance from bein’ so much taller than you, and he lets out a contemplative sigh.

Silently, you stare into each other’s eyes. This close, you focus on the mangled and marred one he’s got, the scar that goes with it. It starts from his browbone and carries all the way down to his shoulder. How did a man go about gettin’ something like that, you wonder. He’s sure to have a story for it, somethin’ like that, somethin’ as big as that always had a story.

“I like the way your leather smells…when you’ve been ridin’ all day.” He says abruptly, doesn’t break his gaze from yours, lookin’ from your left eye to your right with the only one he’s got left.

You blink rapidly, unsure what to do with that information. Unsure what to do with him.

Unsure what to do with yourself.

“What’s it smell like?” Your ribcage expands when you take a deep breath, a steady breath.

“Like sweat, the earth.” He replies hungrily, his eye darkening with what you know has to be lust, “It smells warm, like it’s still alive. It smells like you.”

“And what do I smell like?” You stare him down, making him sweat even there in the cool of the river. It’s fulfilling, seeing him sweat under your gaze.

“I – I don’t know.” He admits, voice faltering.

“Do you want to find out?” You whisper, eyes wide, terrified.

When was the last time you did this sort of thing with someone? You can’t remember, not as far back as your memory goes – and it goes pretty damn far. You’ve never done this, not with another person, not in broad daylight. And what would you do, if he said no? If he thought you a cheap loose woman now, if he –

“Please.” He whimpers, and oh.

Oh.

He was the kind of man you’d been dreamin’ about, wasn’t he? The kind who needed a firm hand, who wanted to be put in his place. Made sense, it did, if this was really Kylo Ren, surely no one would dare try out of fear of bein’ shot. Well, he’s not got his pistol on him, and your hands are already smoothin’ up his chest, already draggin’ up to his shoulders, around his neck, fingers weavin’ into the hair at the base of his skull.

Giving and encouraging little nudge, Kylo ducks his head down and shoves it into the crook of your throat, already taking in deep gulpfuls of breaths, smelling you. He must like it, must like the way you smell, because in seconds you can feel his cock filling out hard and thick, pressing against your stomach. It’s huge, and that shouldn’t surprise you given the rest of him, but it still does.

Without so much as a second thought, you let one of your hands wrap around it, and Kylo immediately moans.

“Your cock’s hard for it?” You lick your lips, curious, wanting to see where this takes you, where the two of you will go.

“Yes.” He replies straight away, and something about that trips your brain up. He likes answering your questions, he likes doing what you say, he likes when you’re pleased with his answers. You can tell by the way his cock gets harder harder harder, and you give it a squeeze.

“For me or the leather?” You whisper, mouth run real dry. You shake your head and speak low in his ear, makin’ goosebumps shudder through his flesh with a groan when you say, “You can take care of it, if you’d like. If’n you need to.”

Releasing his dick, Kylo groans at the loss. His hand replaces yours, and he begins a slow stroke. His face is still tucked into your neck, and he’s still breathing hard, breathing you in. You can’t see much because of the way he’s shoved himself against you, you can’t see past the wall of muscle that is his shoulders and back, but you can feel it.

His hand speedin’ up, twistin’ the muscles in his arm twitching and spasming as he grunts softly, groans. Your ego swells at the thought that all of this is because of you – before your mind catches up and scolds you for the thought. You were probably just a body to him, to Kylo. Just another pair of tits, a naked woman for him to feast his eyes on.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice wobbly with how he’s workin’ at his dick, jerkin’ himself off.

“No.” You shake your head, your mood souring just the tiniest bit. Him wanting to kiss you helps soothe your thoughts, so you keep your tone light, “But you can taste me. Come on cowboy, taste me.”

It was the right thing to do, to say, because the moment your words leave your lips, Kylo’s tongue is pressin’ against your pulse. He moans outright, his hips bucking up into his fist, shoulders curlin’ in on themselves so they can press him closer to you. Your arm curls around his waist, friction against your nipples as he shudders and shakes against you, laves his tongue and licking up the sweat that’s started to collect.

Your pussy throbs, so turned on by him, too turned on – but you won’t let him watch you do that, not today. You’ve won this battle, this test, this challenge for trust, he will win another day. You’ll find some secret time to touch yourself, to slide your fingers between the folds of your cunt and rub at your clit and come around your fingers like you spend so many nights doing; although this time, you’re sure you’ll be doin’ it to the memory of him,

“Angel, oh – ughn, that’s good.” He moans, voice gravelly and deep, the back of his throat clickin’ with want. Your name, your name sounds divine comin’ outta his mouth, and you want to hate how much you love it, how it makes the pit of your stomach flutter.

Ain’t nobody ever said your name that way before, not like this.

“I’ve got you.” You soothe him much like you used to soothe the childr—no, you shake your head, not the time, not the place. Kylo’s whining and crying, you can feel the wetness against your neck as he licks your throat, sucks on it, worries it between his teeth as he tastes you.

He comes before he can give any warning, aside from the way his body tenses up all of a sudden.

“Mmm, ah, ah,” He shudders as he spills over his hand, his fingers blockin’ it so it don’t go arcin’ up onto you. You appreciate that, the consideration, even though you wouldn’t have minded one bit. You’re in the river after all, and the river washes everything away. He winces and sighs and groans out a little, “Fuck.”

“Hm?” You don’t step away from him yet, you don’t go nowhere. You stay close, right there, too close.

“Probably shouldn’t’ve done that in the water we’re supposed to drink.” Kylo grumbles, slightly slurring his words.

Something about that makes you want to laugh, and you only rub his shoulder. He looks up at you with that big brown eye, the other one milky white, the reflection of the universe, everything and nothing inside of it all the same.

“I’ve already filled the canteens, but the current will take it.” You say like it’s no problem, because it ain’t no problem, not really. You don’t know what to do next.

What comes next, in times like these? You don’t have the know-how, not really, you don’t know what to say. So you simply grab a bar of soap that’s been resting on a rock that justs outta the river, and wade deeper into the water, tossin’ over your shoulder, “Next time aim somewhere else.”

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Later, much later, when your clothes have dried and you’ve changed into clean outfits, the both of y’all walk a great long distance against the river’s bank. Sam and Agnes must be thrilled, you think, to be out of the immediate blaze of the sun, the cliffs of the gorge sheltering y’all as you keep close to the river.

Kylo doesn’t say much, but he does walk beside you and not in front of you, and he’s earned a shred more respect from you for that.

“What were you doin’, stealing the sheriff’s horse?” You ask, the question havin’ been on your mind all day.

For the first time, he doesn’t react well to your questions, stops straight in his tracks with a murderous scowl, and for a second, you think he really could be Kylo Ren.

“I didn’t go stealin’ no fuckin’ horse!” He fumes, hands wavin’ all wild like as he talks, as he explains, “Sam had gotten herself all interested in the town and wandered off in the middle of the night. I had to walk eight miles followin’ her fuckin’ prints in the sand only to find her integrated into the town. When I tried to explain that she was mine, they didn’t believe me and strung me up.”

There’s a lot of questions there that you could ask, but the one that blurts out before you have a chance at a real thought it,

“You tracked her prints for eight miles?”

You stop walking too, impressed. You hate to admit that you’re impressed. You were so used to runnin’, so used to avoid bein’ caught that you never really learned how to chase.

“It’s easy when there ain’t no wind.” Kylo doesn’t move, regards you carefully as he explains, “Nothin’ to blow ‘em away.”

“What about when there is wind?” You demand, not sure why you’re suddenly so interested. Maybe you’re jealous, is that what this is? Jealousy? Maybe he’ll teach you, you think, maybe he’ll show you.

You think about your wanted posters, how yours is only 25,000 and his is 100,000. You wonder what else he might be inclined to show you.

“I’m real good at that sort of thing, my uncle taught me. Tracking, trapping, hunting, herding, you know.” Kylo says, “When it comes time for dinner tonight, I’ll show you.”

-------------------------

He hunts a cottontail, for dinner.

You’ve never been able to catch a cottontail, you think, as it roasts slowly on a spicket over the fire that you and Kylo built once you’ve settled in for the night. You’re a long way away from Horseshoe Bend now, but you haven’t left the closeness behind. Further along the river you and Kylo have set up camp for the evening, and this time, you don’t worry too much about him guttin’ you in your sleep.

You still worry about it o’course, but. Not too much.

“Shit.” You sigh as your teeth rip into the meat when he hands you your portion, and Kylo’s chest puffs with pride.

“At the rate we’re goin’, we’ll be headin’ into a small town tomorrow.” He replies quietly, biting into the rabbit he serves himself, “Smaller than the last one, by a lot. I think they got maybe three public buildin’s, the rest all houses and farm. We’ll need a cover story, because there’s gonna be questions.”

“You wanna be my brother or my cousin?” You hum, and Kylo looks at you funny.

“I’m too old to be your brother.” Kylo’s quick to respond and he says that too harshly, a sour subject that you didn’t know. Well how were you supposed to know, you think, trying not to get angry with him for snapping at you.

“How old are you?” You wonder, because really, you know so little about him, you know so little about anyone in the world, you realize.

“Too old to be your brother.” Kylo whispers, and you nod in resignation. There was enough sharing today, you think, enough testing the waters as it were.

“Cousin it is then.” You finish the last few bites of the small rabbit and begin to settle down atop your pillow made from the knapsacks and satchels, fishing out your favorite blanket and tugging it around your arms, “We’ll figure the rest out in the morning, I’m tired.”

It’s quiet, for a while.

Nothing but the sound of the river, and the fire that separates you and Kylo, a wall between you. You listen as he rustles and shifts around on the hard ground, no pillow and no blanket again. He puts his hat over his face as a cover against the light from the flames, you watch discreetly from the corner of your eye.

“It’ll be cold again tonight.” Kylo whispers.

Come sleep next to me.

“Goodnight, Ren.” You reply.

I can’t. Not yet.

Not yet.

#kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/you #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #adam driver character #adam driver fanfiction #adcu #kylo x reader #kylo x you #reader insert #my writing #historical au #wild west au #outlaw!kylo ren #biting dust

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winters-tales · 4 years

Text

Lost

Have I ever told you about the time I was lost, little loves?

No?

This is no place to go wandering, that you already know; the moors are the sea for those of us who can’t sail. Beautiful, but harsh, and if your footing is wrong or the stars wink out well, you’re dead in the water.

It’s no place to go wandering, but when I was a wild young thing, wander I would regardless. My Mam said I’ve been wandering the moors since I first took steps, and I always came back unharmed, so she worried less for me. She worried, but less and less as the years went on and I returned each time.

There was a stunted tree that stood alone on the hill overlooking my Mam’s cottage, and I learned to use this to find my way home. Whatever the weather, when I found that tree I’d know which direction to turn to be home by the fire. I grew to love that tree, and over the years would leave things with it; a woollen thread, dyed blue from the woad Mam decorated our clothes with; some stones I found with copper strips running across them; a pewter chain given by a travelling trader in exchange for some bread and cheese as she passed by. I gifted them all to the tree, thanking it for being my compass.

I went wandering, loves, as I’d been wandering so many times before. I took a simple meal; an apple, dried mutton, some of the bread fresh from that morning, cheese from the ewes we kept, and a skin of watered-down beer. I never come home harmed, but only a fool goes out ill prepared. Besides, when the sun hits the moors, it’s a beautiful place to break your fast.

The sun didn’t hit the moors this day. A dreadful mist fell, a thick fog that rolled from nowhere, as if it were boiling up from the cracks in the ground. I remember thinking to myself No Matter, I’ve not gone far, I’ll just turn back the way I’ve come and soon I’ll see my tree. I turned on my heel, facing exactly the way I’d come, and began to march.

People don’t fear the mists we get enough; mist like these soaks your clothes without you realising you’re wet, and once your clothes are soaked ‘tis only a matter of time before the chill creeps into your bones, and then you’ll never shake it. I walked quickly, wanting to get home before I felt that chill seeping into me, wanting to keep my blood up and slow it from reaching my bones.

I thought I’d only gone three or four-hundred paces from that tree when the fog set in, but after six hundred paces I began to wonder if I’d figured right. No, I thought, I know these moors, and that tree should have greeted me by now. I should have passed it, and been looking down at firelight flickering from my Mam’s cottage on the edge of the hamlet.

But the fog was dense, and there was no sign of any tree or cottage. Not for the next hundred paces, or the next, or the next.

I kept walking, so sure was I that I was going in the right direction. Too stubborn to sit, to draw my cloak around me and wait for the fog to lift; too stubborn to admit that for the first time since I’d started walking the moors, I was lost.

Ah, I was but fourteen summers, and though I’d never have admitted it then, I was deathly afraid. Afraid that if I stopped walking I’d never be able to start again, and would be lost forever. Afraid that I’d just lie down and die where I lay. Afraid, because I didn’t know how long it would take. Because I didn’t know how long Mam would leave it before she started fretting, started looking.

Eventually, I did stop. The shapes of the moors had become strange to me, as if all-unwitting I’d stepped into a fairy ring and out the other side. Maybe I had, because just when the midday sun should have been rising to its peak and chasing the mists away, it started getting dark instead.

Little loves, I’m not ashamed to say I started weeping. Though I’d wandered the moors many a time over my fourteen summers, I’d never been fool enough to wander them at night; the stars are used by many a seafarer to find their way to friendly shores, but the moon has a way of twisting the shapes around you so that left becomes right and home gets far away.

No, I never wandered the moors at night, but now here I was, lost and alone in a fog so thick I could barely see the rock I sat on, with night falling above my head. No candle nor torch in my pack to light my way home, and so I sat in the dark, and waited.

I don’t know what I was waiting for; maybe for Mam to find me? Maybe to raise the rest of the folks at home and come looking for me? All the neighbours spreading out, calling until they fell over me? Oh, it was a fine fancy, but it didn’t happen. I simply sat and shivered, miserable, as the chill took hold in my bones.

I don’t know how long I sat there before I heard it; dark like that turns your sense of time on its head. But out of the gloom I heard a voice, and a grating rumble getting closer. I held my breath, trying to hear clearer, hoping I hadn’t been driven mad somehow and it was all my mind.

The glow of the lantern split the fog like an oar splits still waters, and I was so relieved to not be alone out there I didn’t move, just stared at that light as if I was a moth. Following the light was a gentle voice, singing softly to himself as he went, but I couldn’t make out the words.

The rest of the figure trundled into view, breaking the spell of the light. Simple brown woollens were all he wore, and he pushed a small cart that had been covered over; the lantern was attached at the front, lighting the way for him. His eyes, when he caught sight of me, were kind, and crinkled ever so slightly at the edges with laughter. I’d never seen him before.

“Well met there, lass,” he told me, his accent strange, like it belonged to a man many years older. “Although I’d wager you’re not where you’re supposed to be, out here.”

All I could do was nod; I was obviously ill-prepared for the weather, and felt very foolish standing before him, cold and wet. He didn’t let my silence get to him, carrying right on in an easy fashion.

“Aye, tis a strange thing alright, to find a new face in an old place, and at night no less! Do you have name that you could give there?”

I don’t know what took hold of me then but something my Mam used to say to me must have stuck in my mind, because I didn’t answer with my name.

“You can call me Ainsel, kind sir.” I replied, dipping an awkward bow. His eyebrows shot up but he laughed, straight from the belly, and I felt safe; his laugh was like eating warm honey bread straight from the pot, sweet and comforting.

“Well, that’s a good lesson well remembered, lass; but you’ve nothing to fear from me. I am but a simple trader, making my way from point to point. You,” he paused, having a flair for the dramatic, and extended his hand, “may call me Solas.”

I shook his hand; I may have felt safe in that laugh but he didn’t give me a name, instead responding to my nothing with a nothing of his own. Looking back on it, fair is fair, but I was already ill at ease, and again I wondered if I’d stepped through a ring of mushrooms and out the other side.

“Now, being a trader of things, I’d wager there’s something in my cart that you need; would you like to take a look? Maybe some ribbon to match your eyes, or a bundles of herbs to roast with this year’s mutton?”

He started to pull the waxed woollen cover from his cart, and I stopped him.

“I need to get home, sir. I’m lost and I don’t know how to get there.”

“Well now,” he was thoughtful as he retied the cover. “Getting home, probably; I do know this area well. Where is home at then, little Ainsel?” As I told him my hamlet, he frowned. “That’s a little outside my path – or is this path a little outside yours? For sure you’re well away from where you should be. You need to be getting home.” He thought some more, tapping one finger against his chin, until his face brightened.

“It’s to be a long walk, little Ainsel – do you have any food in that pack of yours?” I nodded, and that smile broke out on his face again. “Well alright then – if you can bear to split your food with me on the walk, I’ll see you back to your Mam and your sheep, how’s that sound? I don’t travel with food myself see, there’s usually something to sup waiting for me.”

I was so relieved I laughed – I’d worried he wouldn’t take me home for being too far, or would take me home but for a price I couldn’t pay, or worse – perhaps he was one of the gentle folk and would only lure me deeper into the mists to be lost forever. But for him to offer to save me for just the cost of some food? Well, if he was one of the fair folk then that food was freely given, and gladly given just for me to be home and in the dry.

“That,” I said, “is acceptable to me, kind Solas; I have an apple, some dried mutton, this morning’s bread, some ewe’s cheese, and beer to wet your whistle. You just tell me when you’re hungry and I’ll gladly share the food I’ve brought.”

He laughed himself then, and picked up the handles to his cart, wheeling it about so the lantern – still lit, mind – swung about alarmingly.

“Well then, little Ainsel, if you’d be so good as to split that bread and add some cheese, our path will lead us this way!” And off he went.

I can’t remember what we spoke of together as we walked through the gloom, little loves, but my spirits were lifted for his presence, and the cold of my sodden clothes didn’t seem to bother me overmuch.

I remember us singing together, but I can’t remember the songs themselves, just a memory of tune heard in a dream.

I offered to push his cart a time or two; when he refused the third time, I knew not to ask again. Besides, it didn’t seem to weary him, his pace only dropping when I lagged from tiredness, and I did my best to not fall far behind too often.

We’d just finished the final bite of apple and mouthful of beer when I saw a familiar twisted shape in the mists ahead; my friend the tree, guiding me back to my door. I pointed it out excitedly, and his grin – the smile that hadn’t left his face the whole walk – grew bigger.

“Ah, so you know where to take your path from here then, lass?”

I nodded, and thanked him, and invited him in for supper – t’was only polite, as he’d saved me and brought me home. He turned them all down graciously.

“Besides,” he’d said, “your cottage is down a steep old hill there, and I don’t fancy my chances of pushing this cart back up. Run along, little Ainsel. And here -” and he dipped a hand into his cart and drew out a pale blue ribbon. “- to match your pretty eyes. Freely given, for your company’s been a delight if truth be known.”

I ran back to my Mam with the ribbon wrapped around my hand, and when I looked back up the hill, the light from his lantern had already gone.

I got the scolding of a life for being gone for three days and worrying my poor Mam, but she wrapped me up and fed me broth and sang to me until I slept that night.

The next morning, I took some fresh-baked bread soaked in cream to the tree on the hill, and left it in a bowl nestled amongst the branches. The ribbon I tied around a branch, right alongside the pewter chain.

I never got lost again.

#fen's originals #fen writes stuff #fen writes stories #writing #creative writing #writeblr

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 10)

“That one!” Atsu shouts. “I want that one!”

“It’s not for sale, Atsu. You’re going to have to win it.” Hajime says.

“But...but I’m no good at tossing games.”

Hajime ruffles his hair, “you’re great at it.”

He shakes his head. “Nu-uh, last year Caihong said that I’d do it better if I turned around and threw it backwards.”

“New year, new skills! Give it a try.” He gives Atsu a pat on the shoulders and a few coins.

“You aren’t going to teach him how to do it?” Azula asks.

“You just throw a bag full of beans into a hole, he just has to practice.”

She watches the boy chuck the bag with all of his might, overshooting the hole by several feet. His next throw is weak to compensate and the bag doesn’t fall too far from where he stands. His third shot is too far to the right and so his fourth throw is significantly left. He stops his foot and carelessly throws the last bag. The straw-stuffed badger-mole still hangs on the hook.

“Dad! You do it!” Before Hajime can answer he changes direction. Azula is none to pleased with this change. He stares at her with that gap toothed grin. “Rikka can do it!”

“I don’t want to play a silly game.” Azula folds her arms over her chest.

Hajime laughs, “you’re at a festival. Festivals are all about silly and rigged games.”

“Just because you can’t win, doesn’t mean that they are rigged.” She holds a pointer up as if to accent her point.

He nudges her, “if it’s not rigged, go win.”

Atsu tugs on her sleeve. “Please Rikka, please! I’ll...I’ll…” He lightly knocks his head with his fist, “Caihong and I’ll make you a pie!”

“A pie? What flavor?”

“Uhhh. Chocolate?”

“You’re going to get the chocolate from the garden, aren’t you?”

“A flower pot actually…” He mumbles.

“I don’t eat dirt.”

“I do! It’s not that bad if you get it from the flower pots especially if you find those teeny rolly bugs that get all...rolly when you poke at them like this!” He jabs her in the side with his tiny, pudgy finger.

“I’ll pass.” She grumbles as she watches Hajime fail to land any of the bags into the hole.

“Please win it for me, please, please, please, please phu-leeese…”

“These games are for children. I am not a child.”

“What? Are there better uses for your talents?” Hajime quirks a brow.

“Yes! Yes, exactly. I am glad that you understand…” she glances at him and realizes that he, in fact, does not understand at all. She very nearly pouts.

“Com’on Rikka!” Atsu whines. “Com’on, com’on, com’on!” He pleads until the words blend into one steady stream.

“No.”

“Look at his face, Rikka.” She has. It is gap-toothed, bug-eyed, and pudgy. The same as every child she ever set her eyes upon. “How can you say no to that face?”

“Cooooommmme ooooon, Riiikaaaa.”

“Not a chance.” She folds her arms tighter.

“You’re his only hope, Rikka. He gets his hand-eye coordination from his dad.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “you’re both awful at this.”

“Well why don’t you grace all of us with your fantastic bean toss skills, master.”

Azula gives a haughty sniff. “Fine. But only so the both of you know that it isn’t so hard.”

.oOo.

He hasn’t put it down since she’d won it for him. Day to day the badger-mole has a different name. At first it was ‘Duster’ and then it was ‘Mud Muncher’ and after that it was, ‘Caihong the Second’. She isn’t sure which name has been bestowed upon the toy today but she has a sinking feeling that it has something to do with her name and is doubly glad that she is using a false one.

The boy comes prancing up to her. “I’m going to show Misa and Min, Dáxiyi!”

“Dáxiyi?”

Atsu nods, “your mongoose-lizard.”

“You named my mongoose-lizard?”

“You said that you didn’t!”

Azula rolls her eyes, “and who are Misa and Min?”

“Neighbor’s kids.” Hajime says as the boy rushes outside. “How are things going at Ojihara’s?”

“Well enough.” Azula replies. Nevermind that Caihong’s father has been tirelessly pestering her for details of her past to the point she is considering calling off their dinner date. “Seukhyung asks too many questions.”

“You do realize that going out to dinner is all about questions and getting to know someone, right?”

Azula frowns, her stomach tying itself in knots. “Why would he want to do that?” She wonders if she is being pursued. Surely she has been in this village long enough to have attracted attention. Golden eyes stand starkly out amid shades of green.

“Because he likes you. And his daughter does too. And his old man…”

“In other words, I should tell him that dinner is cancelled and that he will not be interrogating me over lukewarm miso soup and mochi.”

Hajime laughs. “In other words, give him a chance. Just let him do all of the talking if you don’t want to.” He tilts his head. “You do realize what this dinner is, right?”

“Why do you think that I wouldn’t?”

“You did imply, the other day, that you have trouble understanding people.”

“I understand people perfectly. I just don’t know how to connect with them. I know that he…”

“Loves you?”

She nods. “I think.”

“Well then, take him to dinner and see how it goes.”

“I will.”

He nods, “I figured that you would.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“No!” He says too quickly. “I told you that I wanted to help you socialize more. I just didn’t expect you to... catch on so quickly.”

But she truly hasn’t. “And?”

“And what?”

“There’s something you aren’t saying. What else didn’t you expect?”

He rubs his hands over his face.

“Why would you think that there’s something else?”

“Because I understand people perfectly.”

.oOo.

Seukhyung takes her hand and leads her into the eatery, a fine place really. Small but fine, with walls of bamboo sticks and a burbling fountain at the very center. All about the place are hanging ivys and pots that spill colorful leaves and petals. “Here.” He helps her into her seat. “I’ll have the waiter light these,” he gestures to the candles.

Azula quirks a brow.

He laughs, “right, I’m used to dating Earth Kingdom women.”

“Clearly.” Azula cups the lotus shaped candle in her palms and lights it up. She waits for the flame to warm into a shade of orange before putting it back in place.

“So uh…” he clears his throat. “So, what was life like back in the Fire Nation? Is everyone as competitive and passionate as you are?”

She shakes her head. “In the Fire Nation you either have the spark or you don’t. You’re either bold or useless.”

“Sounds harsh.”

She shrugs.

“No wonder you left.” He rubs the back of his head. “I wouldn’t want to deal with that sort of pressure. It’s like, no wonder Fire Nation soldiers are so ruthless and cruel.”

Azula swallows. The waiter finally makes his appearance. “Miso soup add some spice to it.”

“And I’ll have the roast duck and pau buns.” He pauses and turns to her, “you said spicy right? Have you ever tried spicy pickled kelp?”

She shakes her head.

“A real delicacy!” Seukhyun exclaims. “I’ll split one with you, if you’d like.”

“That sounds just fine.” If she doesn’t like it he can eat the whole thing, she supposes.

“Anyways, what was I saying?”

“That firebenders are monsters?”

“N-no! That’s not what I meant. Just the military types and the rich folk.”

Azula gazes into the candle’s flickering flame. “Right…”

“But you’re not like that. I can tell.” He smiles. “I was able to see it when you gave Caihong that turnip.”

She rolls her eyes. She isn’t quite sure if her laugh is resentful or genuinely humored. “You’re still on about that? It was one, little, scrap of a turnip.”

“It’s the small deeds that show a person’s true nature. That’s what my old man told me. That little turnip had Caihong smiling for days, you know. It was the best turnip she ever ate.”

This time she is certain that her little laugh is genuine. “Well of course. It was touched by my hand, afterall.”

He chuckles, “you’re something else.”

“A good something?”

He cups his hand over hers, “I wouldn’t have asked you for a date if I thought that you were a bad something. I’m so glad that my old man took Caihong off of my hands tonight.”

“Why’s that?”

He laughs, “it’s a little less romantic to have her yanking on my sleeve all night, don’t you think?”

She shrugs, Hajime seems to manage just fine.

“I haven’t had a date since I lost Cai’s mother.”

“What happened to her?” She asks.

“Same thing that happened to a lot of wives here. Bunch of Earth Kingdom soldiers came up here and when we refused to let them turn Wu Jing into a military camp...people died, Rikka, a lot of people.” He pauses. “Fire Nation soldiers aren’t the only brutal ones. I haven’t met any soldier who was pleasant for conversation.”

Her stomach sinks. She can’t help but wonder how far she would have gone, had her pre-destined path not been so rudely blocked. She doesn’t have to wonder for long at all, not knowing full and well that she had told her father to charr the entirety of the Earth Kingdom. Knowing that she took pride in her suggestion. She pictures Wu Jing under a wave of fire streaming from her father’s hand. Ojihara, Seukhyung, Caihong, Atsu, Hajime, all of them burning to ash. “Yes, you’re probably right about that.”

She takes the first taste of the spicy pickled kelp. It isn’t spicy at all.

“Well, what do you think?”

“It’s fine.”

Azula was almost certain that she would never know the feeling... She hates it. She resents it. It leaves her stomach queasy, but that night she learns what it is to feel shame, regret.

.oOo.

Her voice is strangely soothing. A bizarre patchwork of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom and he almost ravenously enjoys how pleasantly it plays through his ears. She isn’t talking about anything in particular. Mostly it is small talk with a sprinkle every now and again about how she is surprised to be receiving such a generally positive welcome home.

“You’re their princess.” He says. “Of course they’re happy to have you back.”

“But did I really do them any favors while I was here?”

He nods. “I think that you did, or you did at the time.” He tries to get his thoughts together. “And I think that they agree. The problem isn’t that you didn’t do any favors it’s that those things aren’t considered good deeds anymore. Times change, what seemed like a helping the Fire Nation at the time isn’t so helpful after all.”

She fixes him with the dullest stare he has seen in a while.

“But I think that they know that you meant well, right? You’re not the only Fire National who has been doing some reflection. This whole nation is…”

“Doing some horrifying introspection.” Azula mutters. “Some things can’t be fixed, Sokka. Maybe some cultures are worse than others...”

“Where is this coming from?”

“Thinking too much. I suppose.”

“Firebenders aren’t evil.” He smiles. “You aren’t.”

She quirks a skeptical brow.

“Do evil people carry around stuffed badger-moles?”

Azula’s face flushes as she snatches it back. “Apparently, yes.”

.oOo.

Azula buries her nose in the badger-mole’s fabric. It smells faintly of turnip of dirt and of home. It smells of affection and care. If she inhales deeply enough she swears that she is whisked to that place for some time. Whisked back to a home where the scent of freshly baked bread was a morning starter and vegetable stew closed the night.

She holds her hand to her belly. She feels cold to her core. Things could have been fine. They could have been fulfilling, whole. Instead she finds the hollowness of a spoiled harvest, lush and flourishing on the surface but rotting beneath.

She gives a small jerk when she feels hands on her soldiers. “Hey. Are you still with me.”

Azula nods, “mostly.”

“You were…”

“Thinking.” She replies. “Just thinking.”

He nods and she isn’t sure that he believes her.

“I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say that you were.” He promises. “But ‘not crazy’ doesn’t rule ‘not okay’ out.”

She swallows.

“I think that you can use…” He wiggles his brows and pulls out a mahjong set, “a distraction!”

“Sokka…”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. A game night! Me, you, Zuko, Mai, and TyLee.” He beams. “I happen to be a mahjong master.”

“Is that right?”

“It sure is!”

“I’ll pass.”

“Oh come on, you’ll have fun.”

“It’s a silly game, Sokka.”

“I get it, you have to save your brainpower for something more important.”

Her throat runs dry. “What did you say?”

Sokka tenses, only briefly, but long enough. “I was just saying that you just don’t want to play because I am a mahjong master and you don’t want to lose in front of ever.”

Azula sniffs. “Invite the entire palace staff, I’ll win.”

.oOo.

She was smiling. It had reached her eyes at multiple points during their game--mostly when she was near victory--but he can’t say that she is unbothered. Raava’s tendrils he wishes that she would just tell him what is wrong. What happened to her, who she lost, and how.

And Raava’s light he doesn’t know why or when he started to care so much. He has a suspicion that, knowingly or not, it had been the moment she stumbled back into the palace with a story and a collection of scars.

He supposes that it is a compulsion to understand to know just what could have sparked such a stark change. No, he realizes, it isn’t so stark at all. Everything that made Azula, Azula is still there. He thinks that it is more of an addition; a newfound capacity for empathy and care.

He sighs to himself, his impulse decisions usually lead him to distress and disarray. But when he hears that small laugh, he isn’t quite so sure that, that will be the case this time. He is almost entirely sure when the game is packed away and she mutters, “I suppose that your ideas aren’t so awful after all. Tonight reminded me of...special moments. It almost felt the same.”

He isn’t so sure if that is melancholic or pleasent. “Special moments?”

She nods.

“You ever going to talk about those?”

She strokes the head of the badger-mole as she considers. “I went to a festival once.”

Her voice is so soft. Soothing. The very prospect of finally hearing a story where he can savor every syllable, every annunciation, is enticing. So much so that he finds it startling. He hadn’t expected to be so intensely and suddenly enthralled by the princess. But he supposes that he does have a history of falling intensely and abruptly. Quite frankly, it scares him. Truly, he only meant to reach out a comforting hand, to pursue a friendship and nothing more.

Changed or not, she is still Azula. Azula with all of her history and baggage. Azula with a steeper mountain of secrets.

“Are you listening, because I’m not going to repeat myself?”

“You went to a festival once, with a boy and his father…”

She nods.

But maybe it won’t be so hard to uncover those secrets. Maybe he only had to ask her to share the pleasant memories. It seems to almost comfort her to talk about this boy and his father. The name Hajime comes back to him and he wonders if this story is about that man.

“Can we do this again?” He asks when she is finished.

She furrows her brows. “A story a night! You tell me about a special moment and I’ll tell you about one.”

She considers. “Alright, a story a night. But you don’t get to ask any questions.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

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queerchoicesblog · 4 years

Text

A Life So Changed (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series, Ch. 15)

So, folks, here’s the new chapter of the series. Thank you so much for your support, hope you enjoy it!

Little disclaimer-favor: especially since the tags don’t seem to be working anymore, if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Also, this chapter contains reference to THIS FIC I wrote about James and Zetta inevitable confrontation not showed in the original book.

Word Count: 2000+

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped @storyscapefanficarchive @marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako @everlastingchoices @indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @bornonawdnsday @nazario-sayeed @h-doodles @adele-serda @marlcasters @brightpinkpeppercorn @michelleconnoly @charliejane-blog @ghost-of-yuri @choicesgremlin @lanzhansguqin @orange-elephants @wonder-falcon

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon @nydeiri

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14

____________________________________

What follows that night is a feverish dream. The following months flow in a haze as days blend into each other. New York, my apartment...all is familiar yet ever distant. As if I'm back home and somewhere far away simultaneously. I'm here and I'm not here.

Moving on is tougher than I could have possibly imagined. Sabine and Richard take care of me with tender compassion, doubling their usual efforts: it's heartwarming, truly. It leaves me wondering what I have ever done right in my life to deserve such adoration and, most importantly, affection because it's genuine concerned affection what I see in their eyes when our eyes meet. Sabine immediately added a newfound touch of sweetness to her proverbial efficiency and joins me at the breakfast table more often these days: sometimes it happens that I am not in the mood for talking and we sit together in complete silence. At first it made me nervous but my little Napoleon doesn't seem to mind: she would offer me a smile and gesture to the coffee pot or the plate filled with slices of my favourite bread and my nervousness melts away replaced by a sense of comfort. Richard visits me more than usual and invites me to join him for a walk at Central Park: "you always say how much you love that place, let's go together...it will do you good" he suggests, smiling sheepishly and offering me his arm. Just like Sabine, he doesn't mind that at times I fall quiet and melancholy takes over me. He would gently stroke my hand resting on his arm and keep walking at my side. One day, as I took a seat on a bench, he picked a flower, a gorgeous little daisy, and pinned it to my hat. He smiled at me and gave my hand an encouraging squeeze before taking a seat beside me. He's surprisingly sweet, sweeter than I deserve, and more mature than I thought when we first met. Richard never once mentioned nor complained about James. He would have every reason and right to question me about him after the secret letters my nephew sent him, asking for money. He never did: the day after our arrival, he even asked his friend John to make sure Mr. Eisler and his valet were safe in their New York apartment. Richard is probably waiting for the moment I'm ready to have that conversation. How could I never be ready for it? Yet, I must, I must confront my nephew: what he did is too hurtful and serious not to come with harsh consequences. Before I send a note to James, I share with Richard my decision: as much as I have little desire to see him now, he's still family and I have at least a moral obligation to him, the old oath I made to Theresa, so I will grant him a generous monthly income. I will set a few conditions, which include no more letters or inappropriate requested to Richard and no more interferences with the marriage under the treat of a legal action from my lawyers. I explain my fiancée the hideous scheme my nephew planned, omitting some details, and I assure him that I was in the dark about the letters: I knew nothing about them and I'm deeply ashamed and sorry he went this far. Richard listens to me carefully and gives me a painful smile as he take my hand into his. "I knew, Zetta. I always knew and I didn't suspect you when I received them, not even for a split second" he sighs. "I trust you, my darling". He just worried about me and he is still concerned because as much as it pains him to say that, my nephew seems dangerous and he has no sympathy for him. I assure him we won't see him anytime soon: after what he did, the things between James and I will never be the same. I don't even know if I will ever be able to forgive him. I repeat the same words to Jaime a few days later and having such a conversation with him is one of the toughest thing in my whole life. I'm angry and disappointed as I speak, wounded in the deep yet tortured by the familiar affection refusing to die inside me. When he close the door behind him, full knowing I don't know when we will see each other again, my heart breaks and I fall sobbing on my knees. My little prince is gone. There is a big fuss in town about the Titanic hearings: American and British authorities are investigating the disaster and the White Star Line company is covered with shame. The hearings are held in New York at Waldorf-Astoria Hotel so I try to keep updated. I spoke to a committing magistrate too: he asked questions about that night to see if I could provide valuable information for the official investigation. It turned out I had none or at least very little to offer him, aside from reporting the questionable decision of lowering half-empty lifeboats and the stubborn refusal to go against it of many officers, like the one I yelled at on the deck. I sign my deposition, which adds up to many others he gathered since the inquiry started. I don't need to testimony at court, he said, he has tons of other witnesses reporting the same issue and he will just add my deposition to the documents to be sent to the judge. "You can go, thank you for your time, Miss Serda" he smiles, vigorously shaking my hand. He praises my heroism but I don't know what he's talking about. Apparently, other witnesses claimed that they owe me their life or saw me protesting on the deck. I'm no hero, I think as my mind runs to the young steward who stayed behind, down in the belly of the sinking ship to keep the light on and give us all a chance to survive. I think his name was Charlie. A few weeks after the beginning of the hearings, about the end of May, I receive a letter from Lucille. She hadn't hear from me since our arrival and she's worried about me, she writes. She had sent me letters but I answered none. She profusely apologises for not waiting for me as she promised but "they had no choice, the chaos was mounting": she hopes this won't be the end of our friendship. Hoping so, she renews her invitation: Richard and I will be her most welcome guests if we fancy joining her and Cosmo for dinner at their apartment whenever it suits us. I don't know how to feel about this. Under different circumstances, it would have filled with joy, maybe relief after all we've been through, now...now things are more complicated than that. Unlike me, Lucille and Cosmo were asked to appear at court during the hearings to verify certain details. They had been all over the press ever since the news spread and I wonder if I'm being a bad friend "abandoning" her in a time like this. The press predictably feasted and is still feasting over the disaster: tragic stories, eye catching headlines, shocking revelations, heartwarming and heartbreaking pictures from the pier: ça vien sans dire, the touching embrace between me and Richard - "reunited lovers" as the caption said - made it to the front page. As weeks went by, my brief appearance was replaced by the new scandal involving nothing less than the Duff-Gordons, not only my personal friends but also a couple of incredibly famous socialites. When I first read it, my heart sank while Richard declared himself disgusted by what journalists write these days. Rumor has it that Lucille, sitting with her husband and secretary on Lifeboat No. 1, commented to her Laura something like, "There is your beautiful nightdress gone" in the aftermath of the sinking. When the Titanic disappeared to the bottom of the sea and poor souls were freezing to death in the ocean, begging us on the lifeboats to come back and save them. I still hear their screams in my nightmares. There's more though: reportedly Cosmo had bribed the lifeboat's crew not to return to save swimmers out of fear the vessel would capsize; he handed checks to them on board of the Carpathia. But Lifeboat No. 1 was designed to carry 40 passengers. Only 12 people were on board when it was lowered unlike the one I was on, filled beyond its capacity. How could an half-empty boat capsize? They could have saved so many lives that night! The thought made my stomach turn to the point that I feel almost nothing when I see the pictures of them during the inquiry: Cosmo looking grim and tensed in his seat and Lucile dressed in black, a mourning dress with a veiled hats, entering the court. I know better than to trust rumours blindly...but I know them. I've known her for ages and, as much as it hurts to say, I can't completely rule out the possibility that for once the press was right. Maybe I'm wrong but I can't vouch for them this time. And doubt is an uncomfortable thing... The final report by the inquiry is more generous than me and clear their names, even if - I'm sure - the general public will be less forgiving. Anyway, Richard is quite fond of the couple, we will surely go visit them... I do not pretend to be fine after what happened on my birthday's night -the sinking, James' betrayal, but I can conceal. I know how to conceal, if need be, in public, in front of people who cannot understand. I'm an actress, a great actress after all. But I feel numb, a ghost of my usual self. During the day I try to keep myself busy. My renaissance requires hard work and commitment as well as a good plan. Sabine and Richard are excellent helpers: I need new projects to work on to make my comeback and an efficient daily schedule to prevent me from drowning in my sorrow. I may conceal it but I dread the time when I have nowhere to run and my mind races back to that memory that fills me with excruciating sadness and guilt. My sweet revolutionary. At night I drink sherry and write letters to Adele. They're passionate, melancholic, tearful. I throw them away in the morning: my words flow on the paper but they ring hollow in the daylight. I don't know what I am supposed to write her. What should I tell her? What could possibly excuse my silence as times go by? I wish I could speak freely what's inside my mind but it's unbelievably difficult. More than she deserves, probably. For some time I tried to convince myself that our little romance on the Titanic was mere attraction, a secret affair favoured by the circumstances: two women growing close, Adele's protectiveness, my heart susceptible to women's beauty and charm just like hers. We found each other and it happened. That's all. But her memory lingers, it never fades away. Never. She always finds a way back to me. At night or during the day, by accident. She's everywhere even if this isn't a place she belongs to. She's in the announcement of a referendum for women's suffrage in Michigan: I read the news and think how excited she must be about it. Maybe she knows it already but I feel a silly urgency to send her the page of the newspaper: your dream may come true after all, see, my love? She's in a gorgeous dress I see hanging on a mannequin in a boutique and I know would fit her perfectly. I have to refrain myself not to buy it and send it to her with a sweet note because I don't care if she needs it, I just want her to have it. She needs beautiful things in her life too. She's in a witty joke I hear in a fancy cafe: I laugh and turn towards Sabine to say "Oh Adele would love this humour" but words die in my throat. When I turn, my cheer has turned into a grimace. Adele isn't here. I don't even know her address here. The thought pains me. I could ask Sabine to find it, I could visit her...but I find myself wondering if it would be the better judgement. I'd give up half my fortune or even more to know about her, even just a quick update. Is she fine? Is she still hurting? Did she and her sister settle down safely? Does she have nightmares at night? She looked so defeated and forlorn on the Carpathia, it pains me to remember seeing the light in her eyes flicker. But maybe this way it will be easier for her to move on. To forget me, if that's what we must get to, no matter how much it hurts. Sometimes I drink myself to a stupor to break the spiral of such thoughts and I'm quite ashamed of myself when Sabine finds me like that in the morning. I mutter nonsense excuses I don't owe her - but I feel like do, she's not a maid, she's my friend - as I hold onto her since I can barely stand on my feet at times and I burst into tears whenever she says: "You have nothing to apologise for, Madam" I do, though. I should - no I must apologise to Adele and Hileni too for disappearing and abandoning them on that pier. I must tell Adele how things really are, how I miss her, it's unbearable... So it's no surprise then that when Richard announces me his idea to postpone the grifter story project I've been working on in favour of a new one, "an homage to the Titanic tragedy", my mind comes find her once again. The project is a wise mix of ambitious opportunism - the sinking is still the talk of the town and people will love it - and genuine concerns. He says I'll not only play the main heroine but also pick the subject, he will just help assessing the script but he wants me to be the one calling the shots on the story to tell. I believe he feels it might be somehow therapeutic for me, aside from the alluring detail of having the star Zetta Serda co-writing an announced success. I consider it for a while, but in the end I write down the Carrem sisters story. I'm fully aware that the picture will hardly be able to bring back to life what it truly happened, the grandeur and the terror. I'm experienced enough to know that the audience can take only that much of the tragedy: they wanna cry and say that they felt as if they were there but they would scream and leave the room if I showed them the truth. A giant ship collapsing in front of you, officers shooting to maintain orders, stewards stubbornly denying desperate passengers their only chance to jump on a lifeboat and to survive, the screams of those who floated in the chilly waters and the dreading silence that followed their unmerciful death. They will never take that much. On the contrary, they will likely enjoy the story of two sisters separated and reunited, prevailing over the impending tragedy threatening to kill them both. It's an heartwarming story with an happy ending and the right amount of pathos and hope. It's also the story of my love that I'm writing down on paper and hand to the posterity. When I present it to Richard, he loves it. He himself couldn't have found a better story, he says, barely containing his excitement. I explain quietly that it's a true story, I just changed the names in respect of the real protagonists of this story. I can only hope Adele won't hate me for this when she sees it. Hate me even more than she's probably doing right now, I frown. I can only hope she will understand.

#titanic storyscape #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele #zetta x adele series

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themuseandantarctica · 3 years

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lyrics from modest mouse’s album good news for people who love bad news BOLD all that apply to your muse (repost, don’t reblog.)

THE WORLD AT LARGE. ice age heat wave, can’t complain / if the world’s at large, why should i remain? / walked away to another plan / gonna find a new place, maybe one i can stand / i move on to another day / to a whole new town with a whole new way / went to the porch to have a thought / got to the door, and again, i couldn’t stop / you don’t know where and you don’t know when / but you’ve still got your words / and you’ve got your friends / walk along to another day / work a little harder, work another way / well, uh-huh, baby, i ain’t got no plan / gonna float on maybe, would you understand? / the days get shorter and the nights get cold / i like the autumn but this place is getting old / i pack my belongings and i head to the coast / it might not be a lot, but i feel like i’m making the most / the nights get longer and the days smell green / i guess it’s not surprising but it’s spring and i should leave / i like songs about drifters, books about the same, they both make me feel a little less insane / walked on off to another spot / i still haven’t gotten anywhere that i want / did i want love? / did i need to know? / why does it always feel like i’m caught in an undertow? / the moths beat themselves to death against the lights, adding their breeze to the summer nights / outside, water, like air, was gray / i didn’t know what i had that day / walked a little farther to another plan / you said that you did, but you didn’t understand / i know that starting over’s not what life’s about / but my thoughts were so loud i couldn’t hear my mouth

FLOAT ON. i backed my car into a cop car the other day / well, he just drove off, sometimes life’s okay / i ran my mouth off a bit too much, oh, what did i say? / well, you just laughed it off, it was all okay / we’ll all float on anyway / a fake jamaican took every last dime with that scam / it was worth it just to learn some sleight of hand / bad news comes, don’t you worry even when it lands / good news will work its way to all them plans / we both got fired on exactly the same day / well, we’ll float on, good news is on the way / bring it on, here we are, win or lose / even if things get heavy, we’ll all float on

OCEAN BREATHES SALTY. your body may be gone / i’m gonna carry you in my head, in my heart, in my soul / and maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll both live again / well, i don’t know, don’t think so / well, that is that and this is this / you tell me what you want and i’ll tell you what you get / you get away from me / collect my belongings and i left the jail / well, thanks for the time, i needed to think a spell / the ocean breathes salty / won’t you carry it in your head, in your heart, in your soul? / well, maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll both grow old / well, i don’t know, i hope so / will you tell me what you saw? / i’ll tell you what you missed / when the ocean met the sky / you missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye / when the earth folded in on itself and said “good luck” / for your sake, i hope heaven and hell are really there, but i wouldn’t hold my breath / you wasted life, why wouldn’t you waste death? / the more we move ahead, the more we’re stuck on rewind / well, i don’t mind, how the hell could i mind?

BURY ME WITH IT. we were shooting at a mountain of dirt / well, nothing was broken, nothing was hurt / but i probably really should have been at work / but if my free time’s gone, would you promise me this? / please bury me with it / well, as sure as planets come, i know that they end / and if i’m here when that happens, you promise me this, my friend / i don’t need none of that mad max bullshit / well, the suit got tight and it split at the seams / but i kept it out of habit and i kept it real clean / it’s getting faded and it’s running out of thread / we moved to the left and we moved to the right / and sure as hell we stayed out almost every single night / if the party’s over, if the fun has to end / good news for people who love bad news / we’ve lost the plot and we just can’t choose / we are hummingbirds who are just not willing to move / we were aiming for the moon, we were shooting at the stars / but the kids were just shooting at the busses and the cars / so don’t drink the water, don’t you breathe the air / and if it’s gotten to that point, then i have to declare / well, fads they come and fads they go / and god, i love that rock ‘n’ roll / well, the point was fast but it was too blunt to miss / life handed us a paycheck / we said, “we worked harder than this!”

DANCE HALL. i’m gonna dance all, dance hall every day / well, i’m giving myself another one / i have too much to say / i’m gonna angle for telepathy ‘cause i don’t know the words to say / well, i’m gonna act up but not in your fucking play / i’ll let you win the argument if things still go my way / well, i haven’t had enough and i said “i’ve had my fill” / the past doesn’t exist and i’m told it never will / i guess i’m stuck here like a plant on a windowsill / i gonna give myself a shot, i could get myself a pill / i’m gonna go and try to buy a little more time to kill / i need a can opener ‘cause i got some beans to spill / i’m gonna tell you what you want to hear anyways / well, somehow or another, i fell for every scam / but i was dancing on the tin roof, cat be damned / committing crimes, running down the alley / i’m the captain and you are in the galley

BUKOWSKI. every night gets a little more bukowski / and yeah, i know he’s a pretty good read / but god, who’d wanna be such an asshole? / we sat on the edge of the river / the crowd screamed, “sacrifice the liver!” / if god takes life, he’s an indian giver / so tell me why, you’ll tell me never / who would wanna be such a control freak? / see what you wanna see / you should see it all / take what you want from me / you deserve it all / nine times out of ten, our hearts just get dissolved / i want a better place / or just a better way to fall / but one time out of ten, everything goes perfect for us all / if god controls the land and disease / and keeps a watchful eye on me / if he’s really so damn mighty / my problem is i can’t see who would wanna be such a control freak / evil home stereo, what good songs do you know? / evil me, oh yeah, i know, what good curves can you throw? / all that icing and all that cake / i can’t make it to your wedding / but i’m sure i’ll be at your wake / you were talking in circles that day / when you get to the point, make sure that i am still awake, okay?

THIS DEVIL'S WORKDAY. all those people that you know floating in the river are logs / i could buy myself a reason / i could sell myself a job / i could hang myself on treason / all the folks i know are gone / so i ate the wedding cake 'til the whole damn thing was gone / and i'm gonna drown the ocean / now ain't none of that so wrong? / all those people that you know floating in the river are gone / gonna take this sack of puppies, gonna set it out to freeze / gonna climb around on all fours 'til all the blood falls out my knees / let's take this potted plant to the woods and set it free / i'm gonna tell the owners just how nice that was of me / oh, i am my own damn god

THE VIEW. your gun went off / you shot off your mouth and look where it got you / my mouth runs off too / shouts from both sides / we've got the land / but they've got the view / well, now, here's the clue / life, it rents us / and yeah, i hope it put plenty on you / i hope mine did too / as life gets longer, awful feels softer / it feels pretty soft to me / and if it takes shit to make bliss / i feel pretty blissfully / we are fixed right where we stand / for every invention, how much time did we save? / we're not much farther than we were in the cave / if life's not beautiful without the pain / i'd rather never ever even see beauty again / for every good deed done, there is a crime committed / for every step ahead, we could have just been seated

SATIN IN A COFFIN. you were laying on the carpet / like you're satin in a coffin / you said, "do you believe what you're saying?" / yeah, right now, but not that often / are you dead or are you sleeping? / god, i sure hope you are dead / you disappeared so often / like you dissolved into coffee / are you here right now? / or are there probably fossils under your meat? / now the blow's been softened since the air we breathe's our coffin / now the blow's been softened since the ocean is our coffin / often times you know our laughter is your coffin ever after / you know the blow's been softened since the world is our coffin / now the blow's been softened since we are our own damn coffins / everybody's talking about their short lists / everybody's talking about death

BLAME IT ON THE TETONS. god, i need a scapegoat now / no, my dog won't bite you / though it had the right to / you oughta give her credit / 'cause she knows i would've let it happen / blame it on the weekends / god, i need a cola now / we mumble loudly / wear our shame so proudly / wore our blank expressions / trying to look interesting / blame it all on me / god, i need a cold one now / all them eager actors gladly take the credit / for lines created by people tucked away from sight / just a window from the room we're bound to / if you find a way out, would you just let me know how? / blame it on the web / but the spider’s your problem now / language is the liquid that we’re all dissolved in / great for solving problems / after it creates a problem / everyone’s a building burning / with no one to put the fire out / standing at the window looking out / waiting for time to burn us down / everyone’s an ocean drowning / with no one really to show how / they might get a little better air / if they turned themselves into a cloud

BLACK CADILLACS. and it’s true we named our children after towns that we’d never been to / and it’s true that the clouds just hung around like black cadillacs outside a funeral / we were done with all the fucking around / you were so true to yourself / you were true to no one else / i should put you in the ground / i’ve got the time, i’ve got the hours, i’ve got the days, i’ve got the weeks / i’ve got the words but i can’t speak / i was done with all the circling ‘round / i didn’t die and i ain’t complaining / i ain’t blaming you / i didn’t know that the words you said to me meant more to me than they ever could you / i didn’t lie but i ain’t saying i told the whole truth / i didn’t know that this game we were playing even had a set of rules / we were laughing at the stars while our feet clung tight to the ground / so pleased with ourselves for using so many verbs and nouns / but we are still just dumber than the dirt on the ground / wings on flames, kings with no names / this place just ain’t got right air right now / you were so all over town / but still so crayola brown / you should run ‘round yourself right now

ONE CHANCE. we have one chance to get everything right / and if we’re lucky, we might / my friends, my habits, my family, they mean so much to me / i just don’t think that it’s right / i’ve seen so many ships sail in / just go head back out again and go off sinking / i’m just a box in a cage / didn’t mean to laugh, didn’t know i had / didn’t know the better part of what you said / ‘cause in your head, you are not home / didn’t get the joke, didn’t mean to poke another / just to save myself from something or another / walk home

THE GOOD TIMES ARE KILLING ME. who needs the good times? / the good times are killing me / got dirt, got air, got water / and i know you can carry on / shrugged off shortsighted false excitement / what can i say? / have one, have twenty-one “one mores” / it does not relent / kick butt, buzz cut dickheads who don’t like what i said / jaws clenched tight / we talked all night / but what the hell did we say? / fed up with all that LSD / need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines / late nights with warm, warm whiskey / enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug / shit-kicker city slickers who all want me dead / get sucked in and stuck in late nights / with more folks that i don’t know

#bolding post #this is a fucking self-indulgent monstrosity #i don't expect anyone else to actually... do this #i just needed it in my life for reasons #probably gonna do the other albums at some point :^)

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writtenbybigoceans · 5 years

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The Witching Hour

I found this in my drafts from forever ago, completely forgot i had written it. I’ve never posted anything like this before but let me know if you like it and want more x

“Shit, shit, shit,” you hiss under your breath as your friend’s voicemail plays for the fifth time. How could you have been so silly as to give your keys to her at the beginning of the night? There was no chance of you getting into your apartment now, your roommates wouldn’t wake up to their phones and one of them had taken the spare key in the plant pot when they lost theirs. You were effectively stranded at this house party that you didn’t want to attend in the first place.

You only knew a few people here from university, none of the hosts, and it wasn’t a part of town that you frequented all that often since your parents had instilled a deep fear of the occult in you. Parties out here had a reputation for ending in someone getting hexed or a fistfight over territory.

Before you can sink too deep into your panic and despair at being stranded at one such party, the door to the empty bedroom you’d locked yourself in bursts open. You jump half a foot in the air and whirl around to face the startled eyes of the intruder.

The guy must be at least a foot taller than you and he’s built like a tank, muscle bulging under his button-up shirt. He has his face down as he enters but his eyes snap up to you not a second after he steps over the threshold. There’s a long, tense silence as you both stare at each other.

“Hi.” His voice is low and his brows pull down in confusion as his dark eyes run over you. “Who are you and what are you doing in my room?”

“I’m sorry. I just needed somewhere quiet to try and make a phone call. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You hurry to pick your bag and jacket up and take a step towards the door, shooting a sheepish smile at the man as you pass him.

“Wait,” he calls as you hurry down the empty hall. You glance back over your shoulder at him standing in the doorway. “You only answered one of my questions.”

“Sorry?”

“Who are you?” He crosses his arms across his chest and runs his eyes over you suspiciously again. His shoulders are wounder tighter than a screw.

“Y/n? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“Yeah, it’s not really my crowd. I came with my friend.”

“’Not really your crowd’? Who is then?”

“Nobody really. Does it matter?” you ask, glancing around uncomfortably. You can’t understand why he’s asking so many questions just because he doesn’t know you, especially at a party like this where so many people are drinking themselves sick under such a tiny roof.

“Yeah, it does when I’ve got a witch I’ve never seen before poking around my room.”

“A witch? You think I’m a witch?” you nearly giggle from shock. In less than a second, he covers the few feet between you, stopping just inches away. Every movement radiates pure, raw power. You stumble half a step back and hit the wall, trapped between it and the wall of muscle and aggression in front of you. A muscle in his clenched jaw ticks as his eyes meet yours.

“I can smell it on you,” he growls, and sure enough you see his nose wrinkle as if some unpleasant scent had assaulted it.

“Smell it on me, what the hell does that mean?” you gape, flattening yourself even more against the wall. “What are you?”

“Surely you knew who the hosts of this are?” you shake your head mutely. This seems to amuse him, and an incredulous little chuckle falls from his grinning lips. “Your ‘friend’ that brought you here didn’t think to tell you werewolves would be hosting?”

“Werewolves?” You squeak, a growing sense of horror clawing at your chest. Why on earth had your friend brought you here? You knew there would be magic folk here, it was the West-side, but you didn’t think at any point in the night you would be abandoned and under interrogation. And now you’re barricaded against a wall, with no one else around except the glowering werewolf towering over you.

“I think you can guess why I want to know why some witch is poking around my things,” he continues.

“I’m not a witch!” you snap before you can stop yourself. “Maybe someone else is down there and they just brushed up against me-“

“No,” he interrupts. “It’s you.”

“But I can’t be. Someone would have told me.” But it suddenly dawns on you. No, they wouldn’t have. You’d been kept so far away from anyone and everything even slightly magic your whole life. Your parents had lectured you a million and one times on how dangerous magic and magical people were. They wouldn’t even drive through this area for fear of who lived here.

But then, you think, how can I be a witch if my parents aren’t? Your brain frantically grapples at your memories of high school biology classes. Hadn’t Professor Robertson mentioned that only witches produced witchlings?

“What? Your parents never told you?” He scoffs, eyes hard as stone as they bore into yours. You’re paralysed, barely able to draw in a breath as your brain darts between every possible explanation, each one more earth-shattering than the last.

“You really had no idea?” You shake your head. The aggression seems to drain from him like water in a sieve, and he takes a slight step back from you.

“This is a mistake, there’s no way it’s true,” you mutter under your breath.

“Maybe you should stay here tonight,” the guy, the werewolf, suggests.

“No, I should go home. I need to get out of here.” You say firmly, a sudden need to get out of this place overwhelming you. You step quickly around him and stride towards the staircase, hoping the moment you crawl into your bed is the moment you wake up from this weird dream. The guy grabs your hand before you can get very far though, putting a rapid stop to your quick escape. You stare down at where his massive hand engulfs yours, shocked at the warmth of his skin against yours. He drops your hand just as quickly as he grabbed it, and when he speaks, it’s with a slowness that sounded like he was choosing his words carefully.

“I really don’t feel right about letting you go home after finding something out like that. Stay here tonight, I’ll drive you home tomorrow.”

He still has that frown contorting his face but it’s softer now as if he’s concerned. He’s so much taller than you that you have to crane your neck up to meet his dark brown eyes. Every trace of the aggression and hostility in them just moments ago had vanished, now replaced with worry and only a tiny bit of caution.

“I don’t even know your name,” you murmur stupidly, too stunned to think of anything else to say. Something like a smile flickers across his lips for a split second.

“Shawn,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand. Hesitantly, you take it, and with numb feet and a leaden weight in your stomach, you follow him back into his room.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn peter raul mendes #writing #fic #AU #shawn mendes AU #werewolf #alpha shawn

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salamanderskin · 5 years

Text

Winter Returning Part 7-8 (end)

This is the final part. Many thanks to those who have been reading along. I know fewer people read f/f and I don’t write it often, but this piece is very close to my heart.

Part 1-2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5-6

Historical lesbian romance, fever, caretaking etc.

“Poor love.” She said, very softly. I don't think she meant me to hear it but I did. Some sweetness in it was exactly what I needed to send me into sleep at last.

Thea

We came into a kind of rhythm after that day, for the two that followed were much the same. I was often busy out of the cottage and though Kay professed restlessness and was forever on her feet, tending her weapons, the fire, the garden, she did not stray far. I came home to find her in the woodland to back of the garden, felling enough wood to last the rest of the winter. I could see that the swing of the axe pained her and she could not stop coughing and sneezing in the cold air, but it was no good asking her not to.

I watched her from a distance. Her breath trickled from her lips in plumes and she paused to cough chokingly into her fist at regular intervals, but it didn't stop her moving.

We seemed to be stuck in this brittle, lovely pattern. It couldn't last forever, the scouts would come and find her sooner or later and she would leave me as she had before. But for now, all I could do was enjoy it, enjoy her. And I did.

The shivering cold drew her closer to me and I was grateful for it. We spent the nights under the same blanket. As she got stronger we reverted to our old positions in the bed, me with my head cradled on her breast, her chin on the top of the head.

The third day was different. Kay was much better, her wounds healing. The gash on her head had made a russet crust that still split and cracked when she moved too fast, but she didn’t need the dressing on it any more. The swelling on that side of her face was down, leaving only faint purple warpaint just above her left eye. She let me fasten her hair back from it and looked almost back to her practical self. She moved tenderly around the cut on her stomach. The fever came and went, worse at night, then seemed to pass, though the cold was very much in evidence and she was fairly miserable with it. She didn't say anything but it was in the pained twist of her mouth after a set of sneezes tore through her throat, in the hollow husk of her voice.

“You needn’t-“ she said, each time I rubbed her back through a fit of coughs, or passed her a cup of water in the night. But I think she smiled, and when her head felt heavy she let me run my fingers through her hair.

I felt better about leaving her then. That day I went out and left Kay sleeping. She lay on her back with her mouth charmingly open, one hand cast above her head as if in a gesture of despair. In sleep her features were softer. She was almost smiling. As I climbed over her to leave the bed I couldn't resist a swift press of my lips to her cheek. She smiled more.

It was still bitterly cold. I dressed as quickly as I could and threw my thickest shawl over my shoulders before setting out into the morning, munching on a piece of bread. My boots echoed like hoof beats on the frozen earth as a went down the lane and toward the town.

My business in town kept me for longer than I expected. I saw four patients, stopped by the market and the hardware shop that sold my bottles, cloths for straining and copper pots for boiling up. The woman in there, Mara, blinked at me over her ledger of figures.

“It’s been a few days. Have you been well?”

“Quite, thank you.” I said guiltily. “Just avoiding the bitter weather. I had much to do at the cottage despite the season.”

“Oh aye.” Mara said neutrally. “But there’s folk looking for you. Two scouts came by not an hour ago.”

“For me?”

“They didn't have any wounded, they said. Wanted to ask you a question. Asking the way to the cottage. Go out in the square and you’ll catch them, I expect.”

So it was time. My interval alone with Kay Winter was at an end and her people had come for her. I straightened my back and left the shop at a brisk walk, chin up to face the world.

I missed them in the square and hurried back along the lanes out of town without a hope of catching them up. The prints in the soft ground under the trees told me that they were on horseback, so I hadn't a chance.

It was early afternoon by the time I returned to the cottage. The sun was still above the trees and it shed lemon yellow radiance that made even the bare garden magical. It was incredibly still. Not even the foraging robins were speaking in the bushes. The only intrusion of sound was the huff and stamp of two horses hitched to the big elm tree at the edge of the woods. I passed them on my way to the door, reached out absently to pat the nearest on it’s flank. They were tough dun and black beasts with bright, handsome eyes and the insignia of the King’s Scouts on their tack.

The door to my house was ajar- Letting in a draught in this weather- and the unfamiliar rumble of a masculine voice came from within.

“Hello? Who’s there?” I called. “Kay?”

The front room was empty. Our visitors and Kay herself were through the back, in our bedroom. My bedroom. I felt invaded. Bristling, I strode forward.

What was Kay doing in the bedroom? Had she taken a turn for the worse? I found it hard to imagine, I'd thought the worst was over and besides Kay would fall on her own sword before she held an audience with her superiors in her nightdress. But sure enough the door to the bedroom was ajar and I could hear Kay coughing. Two tall figures hovered on the threshold.

“Excuse me, Sir, Madam.” I addressed the two scouts and they turned to me.

It was the Captain and a scout I didn't recognise who had her dark hair braided up on her head. At least they had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“Very sorry to intrude, Miss Loughran.” The Captain bowed to me. “We had information suggesting Leiutenant Winter was out this way and we were in the area so….” He spread his weapon-coarsened hands.

“… so you thought it was appropriate to burst into my house while I was out.”

He cleared his throat and tilted his head to indicate the bedroom. I peered past his shoulder to see Kay lieing in the bed. Well, it could only have been Kay but the covers were pulled so far up over her head that very little of her could be seen. Her hair was damp with sweat, mussed over the pillow and matted with blood in a streak across her forehead. Her eyes were almost closed but for a split second they opened and caught mine. No way was that woman sleeping. She was watching and listening as hard as she could.

I was about to speak to her but she shook her head minutely. Then the movement came again, a shudder through her shoulders as she drew a ragged breath and sneezed- “htzSscH!”- weakly against the pillow. She didn't even open her eyes but groaned afterward, her breath a whisper.

What on earth had happened in the hours I was gone?

Kay sneezed again and the female scout drew back a few steps in distaste. The sound turned into a nasty, drawn out cough that rattled in her chest.

The Captain cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed.

“Truly sorry, Thea.” He said again, less formal and more genuine. “If I'd known she was in such a bad way I'd not have intruded. Had we best come back another day?”

“I expect you had.” I replied absently, distracted by the state of the woman in my bed. “Wait in the front and I'll see to her a moment.”

The minute they had retreated I fairly ran to her bedside and knelt, peeling back the covers to look at her face.

Kay raised her head enough to see that the others were gone and placed one finger to lips. Not a word. Well, then. What was she playing at?

I cupped a hand over her forehead. It was damp and warm, but only under-the-blankets warm. The wound on her head had been knocked open and she’d swiped the blood and fluid back into her hair. It looked far worse than it was.

The cough that came a moment later was real enough though. She was working up a nice chest infection and I didn't like the sound of the wheeze between each breath. Kay struggled to one elbow to get more air and I passed her a cup of water. She sipped gingerly and lay back down.

“I’ll just go and tell the captain that you're too unwell to give information or rejoin the force at present, then.” I said very quietly.

A cough, a minute nod.

Back in the healer’s room the female scout was pacing in front of the window as though expecting the ash trees to leap out and attack. The Captain has lowered himself into one of the wooden chairs and gestured for me to take the other.

“Is she… will she recover?” He asked.

I bit my tongue. “I expect so. What she needs is time, and not to pass it on to the rest of the force.”

The scout at the window nodded emphatically and the captain rose to his feet.

“As you were then, Thea. We’ll be on our way. When should we come back?”

“I wouldn't hold your breath. She’s wounded too, more than you saw. If you want her back in fighting condition I'd wait for her to come to you. She knows where to find you.”

“She does that.” He growled, buckling his crossbow back over his shoulder as he made for the door. He paused to clap me on the shoulder. “See her well for us.”

“I will.” I promised.

I stood at the window and watched until the horses were out of sight. Only then did I draw the curtains against the bitter weather and made my way back to the bedroom to give Kay Winter a piece of my mind for nearly scaring me to death.

.......................

Kay

“You scared me to death!” Was the first thing Thea said when she came into the room.

“Have they gone then?”

When she nodded I flung the covers off and sat upright. It was stifling under there and I was wearing some of Thea's old clothes, for when I head the Captain coming I hadn't had time to change. Between the two I was slick with sweat and it made the congestion and pounding in my head feel ten times worse.

Thea came to sit on the side of the bed.

“I didn't know you were an actress. Or such an actress as that.”

“Neither did I. But it was worth a chance.” I said.

Thea laughed then, really laughed. “It seems they think you have some sort of plague. You're as cunning as a winter fox.”

I had to snuffle uncomfortably to answer, finally admitting. “I feel rough enough. I'm not exaggerating so much as all th- th--aah – htzSscH!”

A conveniently timed sneeze knocked me forward into my lap. When I looked up, Thea was holding a handkerchief out for me with a complicated expression on her face.

“But Kay-” she paused. “Why? Why exaggerate? Why lie?”

There was the question. It wasn't until she asked it that I knew the answer myself, and then it was obvious. There was more than simple need that had lead me to this house in the woods

“Because...” a deep, steadying breath. “I just want to stay here with you. If you'll have me.”

There. I'd said it. My heart was hammering now and I closed my eyes as though I could remove myself from the situation.

“Why did you wait so long?”

I shrugged. “I thought if I was injured you wouldn't turn me away. I didn't mean to get ill, to be a burden-”

“Of course you didn't mean to. Nobody would wish that on themselves.”

To be in your arms? I thought, they just might.

Thea still hadn't quite answered the question but the reassurance in her eyes was quite enough for me.

Most of her hair had worked loose in what must have been a headlong hurry through the woods. She pulled the tie from the end and bundled it in her hands, rebraiding it into a fat plait like a horses' tail. I loved the darkness of it against her skin. As the strands of hair were bound together so her thoughts collected themselves, visibly, and when she looked at me properly again it was the practical, sensible Thea I was used to.

“You're soaked with sweat. You ought to have a bath.”

It did sound good. Now she said it I was aware of the slick, itchiness on my skin. I ducked relexively into “Not if it's too much trouble...?”

“Stop it, Winter, it's no trouble. I'll go and draw the water.” Thea said, and off she went, leaving me marvelling at this woman and at myself.

…

When the bath water was warm, Thea called me into her front room, the healer's room where the tub sat in front of the fire. Evening had fallen but the lamps were lit and golden light spilled across the floorboards. It was warmer in there and Thea had taken her overdress off. She was left in a light undershirt and a skirt, sleeves pushed up to her forearms to be out of the water. When she saw me approach she pulled a kettle from the fire and added it to the bathtub where the water steamed.

She'd seen more of me than most people but I still felt a twinge of shyness and wondered if she was going to turn her back while I bathed or whether she intended to wash me like a babe. Thea's face was flush, eyes shining. The humidity had lifted curls of hair from her forehead.

She was definitely watching me, perhaps for the cue to leave. She didn't have to leave.

I started at the buttons on my shirt when Thea rose suddenly, crossed the room to look at me and almost shouted;

“--You were promoted and you just left-- You never came back!”

Thea never raises her voice.

She clapped a hand over her mouth but the words had already surprised me, too; like a slap, like ripping a bandage from smarting flesh.

“Did you want me to?”

I had to be sure. I hadn't been sure then and that had been the problem.

Thea had gained back her usual control now. She took a step back from me but kept those dark eyes on me all the while.

“Are you mad?” She said. “Yes. Of course I did.”

I felt a little light-headed. It must have been the warmth in the room.

“I didn't know...” I said stupidly. She stared at me defiantly until I continued. “... For the first six months I couldn't write, and then I didn't know what to say. I thought you wouldn't want me away most of the year. You could have someone with you all the time. Someone more like you.”

“I don't want anybody else.”

She sighed and turned away, hands twitching for a job to do. I reached out and held them, held her to me.

“Are you angry, Thea?” I asked.

She didn't have to think about it.

“...not with you.”

Then she kissed me.

The sweetness of it nearly knocked the air from my lungs, at once foreign and familiar- I remembered this, but it had been such a long time. Her eyes closed but I kept mine open so I could watch her. It was long, slow and tentative as our lips and tongues began the process of relearning each other. It was only after our lips had drawn apart and we were gazing drunkenly at each other that it occurred to me- “I'll get you ill...”

Thea gave a giddy laugh, murmured, “It's days too late to worry about that. But your bath will get cold. Take your things off.”

So I did, and there was no more shame to be had. I dropped them in a puddle on the floor and stepped into the warm water before the chill of the air could rake my skin. It was good and hot.

Bright fire burned across the site of my wound and I paused my breathing to grit my teeth until it passed, and pass it did as relaxation stole over me.

The steam from the bath loosened the congestion in my head and I sniffed warily, knuckling under my nose in irritation.

“That must feel better.”

I lay in that bath for a long time, breathing slowly, casting shy looks at the woman beside me.

“It's getting cold.” Thea said at last. “You should get out.”

“Can I go to bed now?” I asked. Out of the water I was shivering and my teeth started to chatter.

“Of course.” Thea smiled. She found my nightdress as I towelled myself down and came to me with a candle in her other hand, like a vision of everything I ever wanted; warm, kind, beautiful.

“I feel like I could sleep for a thousand years...”

“You can rest as much as you want, Kay.” She said. “After all, it's nearly winter and the weather may be too bad to worry about rejoining the scouts until spring.”

We both looked out of the window at the same time and blessed the darkening night that, this time, would keep us together.

FIN

Huge thanks to anyone who has made it to the end of this.

#sneezefic #salamanderskin's fic #original sickfic #original f/f #historical sickfic #historical lesbians #hurt/comfort #whump #female whump #lady whump #sickfic fever #fever #injuries #historical f/f #f/f romance #care taking #f/fromance

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gems-in-the-city · 5 years

Photo

“Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls and Gems of all cuts and creeds, it’s showtime!”

“Please put your hands together for the musical stylings of ‘Tanzanite And The Runners!’”

Gem: Tanzanite Pronouns: He/Him Weapon: Long double edged sword Occupation: Radio DJ/Session Musician/Leader of the band ‘Tanzanite And The Runners’ Band Position: Leader, Lead Vocalist, Songwriter, Various instruments (Acoustic Guitar, Saxophone, Pianist mostly) Personality: Calm, Cool, Charming and Charismatic, Sees the good in most folks

Skillset: Sword Proficiency, Photokinesis, Musicality Unique Abilities: Instant shapeshifting, Interdimensional Storage, Superior Adaptation

Icon Faceclaim: Ky Kiske (Guilty Gear)

Originally an agent of Blue Diamond, Tanzanite acted as a spy, worming his way into rebel camps only to turn on any Gem siding with Rose Quartz by slicing into them with his trusted blade, and shattering Gems to ensure her followers shrunk in size.

He was doing his Diamond well, and Rose’s army could have completely fallen, had he not felt the weight of his actions.

On the way to his next target, Tanzanite was struck with grief. He had been doing his job well, but at what cost? What was even the point of the Diamond’s galaxy-wide strangle hold on planets?

After literally falling into a hole on one rainy night, he vowed that he’d never fight for the Diamond Authority again, instead offering his hand to very the cause that he had been eliminating.

However, he vowed to never raise his sword, even for the Crystal Gems. Instead, he’d lend his support via a new vice in his life: Music, essentially becoming a bard.

Not to long after his change of metaphoric heart, he’d meet with more Crystal Gems that would welcome him into their corps. Gems that he would stay with for the rest of his life like a family.

---

Gem: Chrysoprase Pronouns: She/Her Weapon: Bow and Arrow Occupation: Archery Instructor, Band Member Band Position: Horn Instruments, Pianist, Strings Personality: Level headed, determined, a little smarmy

Skillset: Bow Proficiency, Photokinesis, Energy Projection, Musicality, Gem-tech Interfacing Unique Abilities: Psychokinesis, Terrain Manipulation

Icon Faceclaim: Elisabeth Blanctorche (KOF)

Gem: (Green) Pearl Pronouns: She/Her Weapon: Giant Fan Occupation: Librarian, Band Member Band Position: Various, uses Self-Duplication clones to fill in gaps for various instruments, manager Personality: Astute, Poised, Hardworking, Patient, has a tendency to be sarcastic at times

Skillset: Same abilities as an average Pearl, Musicality Unique Abilities: Most of an average Pearl (Holographic Projection, Self-Duplication, etc.), Wind Manipulation

Icon Faceclaim: Pearl (S*U)

Gem: Bismuth Pronouns: He/Him Weapon: N/A, read below Occupation: Radio DJ/Session Musician, Band Member Band Position: Pianist, Drums Personality: Smart, precise, well read, stern but fair

Skillset: Same abilities as an average Bismuth (Shapeshifting Weapons, Thermal Resistance, etc.), Musicality Unique Abilities: Same abilities as an average Bismuth (Skilled Craftsmanship, Superhuman Strength)

Icon Faceclaim: Bismuth (S*U)

A rouge space captain, her Pearl and a blacksmith. I’m sure there’s a joke here, but I’ve got nothing!

Anyhow, this ragtag group cut split from the Empire after being forced to patrol planets that the Empire had already swept through.

Feeling her talents were being put to waste, Chrysoprase decided that she’d align with the rebels, just to get back at the Empire for more or less making her and her entire fleet of warriors janitors.

Although she faced some push back from her Pearl and fleet Bismuth, they eventually saw things from her point of view. Plus her turning to the Crystal Gems proved to be fruitful as the number of Gems under Rose Quartz rose tremendously, no thanks to that Spy assassin.

Ironically enough on a trip to Earth, Tanzanite just so happened to run into the green rogue and crew. The crew heard of Tanzanite’s plight and welcomed him to the Crystal Gems with open arms.

Even as the years went by and Gems came and went, these four would always stick together through thick and thin.

However, three more Gems would prove to stick around in the coming years.

---

Gem: Fire Agate Pronouns: He/Him Weapon: Dual Tonfa Occupation: Construction, Band Member Band Position: Backing Vocals, Electric Guitar/Bass Personality: LOUD, BRASH, CRUDE, ANGRY, A REAL ASSHOLE AND PROUD OF IT!!

Skillset: Tonfa Proficiency, Musicality, Pinpoint Accuracy, Hand To Hand Combat Proficiency Unique Abilities: Superhuman Strength, Pyrokinesis, Thermal/Heat Resistance, Sound Manipulation

Icon Faceclaim: Yashiro Nanakase (KOF)

A captain sent to exile after over stepping his authority, Fire was left to blaze alone on a planet full of monsters far on the other edge of the galaxy.

For years his resentment towards the Diamond Authority grew as did his monster kill-count. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to shatter the Gem of each Diamond so he could burn their shards into ashes in the palm of his fiery hands.

He was found by Tanzanite and crew by pure chance, noticing a huge pillar of flame erupting from a planetoid far off in the galaxy. Upon arriving to the planet’s surface, Fire heard of their affiliation towards the Crystal Gems and wanted in immediately.

“I’ll join any cause you want, just as long as I get to smash those dumb rocks~!!!”

While most of the team were weary to his extreme levels of violence, Tanzanite found him to be a valuable member to the team, appreciating his literal fiery spirit.

---

Gem: Lapis Lazuli Pronouns: He/Him Weapon: Water Pot (Generates water for him to control) Occupation: Various odd jobs, Band Member Band Position: Backing Vocals, Acoustic Guitar, banjo Personality: Quite, easy-going, relaxed, go with the flow kind of Gem

Skillset: Same as an average Lapis Lazuli (Enhanced Durability, Strength) Unique Abilities: Same as an average Lapis Lazuli (Hydrokinesis, Water Generation, etc.)

Icon Faceclaim: Syo Kirishima/Kyo Kusanagi (KOF)

Counting acting Fire’s blazing personality is the lazy river rider mentality of Lapis Lazuli.

An easy-going Gem swept up in the tides of war, Lapis was to be exiled to the same planet as Fire Agate, but managed to hi-jack an escape pod with his water skills.

Landing in the mountains of South Korea, he lived a quiet life of living off the land in a little lean-to he built all himself. It wasn’t an exciting life, but it was a good life for him.

Of course he eventually grew bored of it and wanted some more action in his life. Luckily Tanzanite and his crew found him and, well, you can guess what happened next.

---

Gem: (Black) Spinel Pronouns: She/Her Weapon: N/A Occupation: No real job, but they tend to work with Fire Agate every now and then Band Position: Tambourine, Bongos, Piano Personality: Happy-Go-Lucky, always ready to play, but can get shy around new people

Skillset: Same as an average Spinel Unique Abilities: Same as an average Spinel

Icon Faceclaim: Spinel (S*U)

And rounding out this whacky family of space rocks is this little black and white ragamuffin!

A mental casualty thanks to the war, Spinel was the last of his rebel group, left alone and afraid to leave a cave they hid in while their rebel camp was attacked by the Diamond Authority.

Can you guess what happened next? You guessed it! Tanzanite and crew found Spinel and welcomed them into their group.

They were hesitant at first, but with Tender Loving Care, the team were able to put the spring back into Spinel’s squeaky steps! Although they’re still shy around new folks, but then again who isn’t?

---

For years the team would be on the run, moving from place to place, lending their hands whenever possible.

And then the day came: The Diamond Authority ceased their galaxy wide conquest. The time for peace was at hand.

Three years later, Tanzanite and crew have settled down in Empire City, getting by however they can, from working odd jobs to performing in their band ‘Tanzanite And The Runners’.

It’s not always easy, but together, they’ll make it through.

“And that’s our story~ I know, you didn’t come here to hear us wax lyrical about our lives...Nah, you came for the music~”

“So enough dawdling, let’s get this show on the road! 1, 2, 3!”

#Gemsona #Gemsonas #Tanzanite #Chrysoprase #Green Pearl #Bismuth #Fire Agate #Lapis Lazuli #Black Spinel #For Mobile Friends #Muses

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dainesanddaffodils · 6 years

Text

Let’s Dance, pt 2 - Widomauk

Because what’s a Harvest Close festival without DANCING!

read on a03

The streets of Zadash look like they’ve caught fire.

Lines of colorful paper are strung between buildings, wreathes of autumn foliage adorn ever lamp post, streamers of reds and golds hang from windows and street vendor stalls and when the evening’s setting sun hits it all just right, the entire city looks as though it is ablaze.

Perhaps that is why Caleb feels distracted throughout the day. The breeze rustles the festive papers around them, light catching their movement and turning them into dancing firelight for a fraction of a second, before they settle again. He sighs and tries for the umpteenth time to direct his attention elsewhere.

He is usually rather fond of autumn, of the warm days transitioning to crisp evenings. He is usually equally fond of the festivals that surround the season, and had hoped that perhaps this day might be one he could actually enjoy with his motley little group.

But things so rarely worked out the way Caleb hoped.

“-What about you, Caleb?”

He started, turning towards the address and meeting Jester’s expectant gaze, closer than she was the last time he had paid attention to their order.

He is, as he so often is, towards the back of the group as they wander some of the less populous backstreets. They’ve spent much of the day on the main thoroughfare, perusing street vendors and watching performances on various stages that have been set up over the last few days. Enjoyable as it has been, even the more sociable of the Nein (Mollymauk) seem content to step off the bustling streets to eat some of the food they have purchased and actually be able to hear each other talk.

Not that Caleb has been hearing anyone. “What?” He asks Jester.

She looks neither surprised nor offended to find that Caleb has not been listening to anything the party has been saying for minutes now. The Mighty Nein have begun to pick up his habits, have begun to know him. He isn’t sure how he feels about that yet.

“We’re talking about other Harvest Close festivals. I guess Beau and I are the only ones who have ever been to one before now. What about you?”

Caleb takes a second to file that information away. It doesn’t surprise him that Yasha, Nott or Molly have not seen one before, but he expected it of Fjord. “I have not had a Harvest Close festival, exactly,” he says. “The Zemni Fields has a festival for the fall but it has a different name, and it is not quite so large.”

It is not remotely as large. Caleb remembers thinking of his home festivals in comparison to Molly’s troupe, considering them to be larger and more put-together events, but in hindsight they are a candle to Zadash’s bonfire.

Summoned either by his thoughts, or more likely by the mention of the Zemni Fields, Mollymauk hangs back from speaking with Yasha and Nott (sitting on her shoulders) so he can fall into step with the two of them. “What do they call it?”

“Just ‘Autumn Festival’,” Caleb says with a shrug.

“In Common or in Zemnian?”

He doesn’t know why it matters, but Mollymauk has always been one to latch on to the details he does not expect to be latched on to. “Zemnian. It is ah- Oktoberfest.”

“Oooh!” Jester says, eyes going wide, “That sounds much cooler than Harvest Close!”

“Much cooler,” Yasha agrees from in front of them, with about as much enthusiasm as she says anything. Caleb bites this inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

“Agreed,” Molly says and he’s looking at Caleb in a way that makes him think his smile was not as hidden as he had hoped, but does not call attention to it. “Sounds more majestic somehow. Oktoberfest.”

“It means the same thing,” Caleb points out dryly. “And your accent is horrendous.”

Mollymauk puts a hand on his chest with an theatrical gasp. “Caleb, you wound me! Most people call it ‘disarmingly sexy’.”

Oh Caleb is sure they do. “Most people have not heard you try to speak Zemnian.”

Molly pouts, and it is both more amusing and more adorable than Caleb wants it to be. “Well, I suppose you’ll just have to teach me until it improves,” he says, and Caleb’s slowly blooming smile dies before it reaches his lips.

It has been nearly a week since their job for the Gentleman and the party that was held in the Evening Nip after they had returned. It has been nearly a week since, at Mollymauk’s playful prodding, Caleb had taught him a Zemnian festival dance, the kind of dance they’d have at Oktoberfests back home. It has been nearly a week since Molly’s offhand compliment about Caleb’s skill at teaching had flustered him more than even their close proximity and he still couldn’t quite explain why.

Molly catches his expression and his dramatic frown turns more genuine and damn, Caleb is used to being hard to read. Before the tiefling can speak, however, Nott calls over. “Caleb! Caleb, I have something for you! Come here!”

Unsure what his friend could have found for him while sitting on Yasha’s shoulders, Caleb does as he is told, keeping his eyes away from Molly as he passes. “What is it?”

Nott grins, and it is Caleb’s favorite grin – the kind that nearly splits her face in two, showing all her teeth. It is a grin Nott only uses not only when she is happy, but when she is comfortable enough to not be self-conscious of her appearance. Proudly she extends a woven flower crown in his direction. Caleb realizes, at her vantage point, Nott could and did grab a number of flowers off of street lamp garlands and hanging pots.

“That is very nice.” They’re not very neatly woven, and look like a too-strong breeze would force them apart again, but it is the thought that counts. “They might blend in with my hair, I think. Perhaps Jester would like them.”

“It wouldn’t fit around my horns!” Jester says from behind him.

Well, he can say he tried - and he doesn’t really mind Nott’s new habit of putting flowers on him every chance she gets. Certainly he does not feel too dignified for such things; he has long since stopped having dignity. “Alright then,” he says and inclines his head towards Nott. Yasha stops walking in order to keep her steady as Nott very regally places the flowers atop his head.

He hears a slow clap and knows it’s Mollymauk even before the tiefling speaks. “Such grace! You’ve been crowned king of Oktoberfest!”

Caleb shoots him a look. “I regret telling you that; you make it sound ridiculous.”

“That’s what I’m best at.”

From the front of their grouping Beau - who until this point Caleb had not believed was paying them any attention - calls back, “Ain’t that the fucking truth!”

Molly flips her off but he’s still smiling, seeming to know full well that she isn’t looking.

“You look very nice,” Jester says, walking next to him along one side. “It looks like your hair is on fire.”

Caleb stiffens, managing to barely suppress the sudden urge to take the crown off immediately. “I- that is not-”

“Nah, that’s not right,” Molly says, smoothly taking his place on Caleb’s other side. When Caleb turns to him, his expression is as cheerful and mischievous as ever. “He looks like he’s sprouting flowers.”

Jester considers this. “He does, doesn’t he? Caleb, you are turning into a tree, like Fjord is turning into water.”

“We are doing neither of those things. Hopefully,” he adds, just to be safe (the world sure loves to jinx them), but he feels the tension in his body uncoil. If Mollymauk has noticed the effect of his distraction he does not show it, and Caleb isn’t sure if he is relieved or disappointed.

Instead he nearly collides with Yasha’s back, as the woman stopped just before colliding with Fjord’s back. Caleb cranes his neck to look past the two taller figures, and sees that their peaceful little alleyway has reached its end - meeting up with what looks to be a confluence of many streets, forming an open (and by the sounds of it, bustling) square.

“Weren’t we just here?” Fjord asks no one in particular.

Molly doesn’t move forward, but leans around to get a better look at the square, speaking absently. “’All roads lead to Zadash’?”

“All roads lead away from Zadash,” Beau deadpans. “People just take them the wrong way.”

“You’re a poet,” Molly says, sarcastically. Without looking back, Beau flips him off. Caleb struggles not to laugh.

He is only just sure that he has schooled his expression into something neutral when Molly makes a soft ‘oh’ sound.

“Well would you look at what we found, Caleb,” he says, his eyes still trained on the open square before them. His voice is pitched low, meant for his ears alone. “Dancing.”

Before Caleb can think to respond - or frankly, think at all after that statement - Jester perks up. “Dancing?” She jumps up and down trying to look over shoulders, before finally pushing forward so she stands between Fjord and Beau at the front. “What kind of dancing? Is it Molly kind of dancing?”

Molly laughs, shaking his head. Caleb exhales a bit gustily as he watches Mollymauk leave his side to stand by his fellow tiefling and dancing partner. This is good, he tells himself. Molly will dance with Jester, just like before.

But because things simply cannot go the way he plans, he hears Molly’s voice a moment later. “Well, I certainly don’t know this one. Hey Caleb!” He calls back cheerfully. “Come here and tell us if this is another Zemnian dance!”

If it is, Caleb is not going to say so. But he obediently comes forward, pointedly ignoring the way both Jester and Beau are looking between him and Molly.

Finally at the front of the group, Caleb can actually see what everyone is talking about: there is a flagpole in the center of this square, impermanent-looking and likely set up for the festival, and at it’s base a small band is playing a simple tune. In a circle around them are many, many citizens of Zadash. All ages, various races, all common folk dressed in as fine of festival clothes as they could likely put together.

The music is not Zemnian, and the dance certainly not Zemnian. “I do not know it, either,” he says, a little glad that it is the truth.

Still, he stays where he is and watches the dance as it continues. The music has a slow, steady beat. The pairings of people - and they are coupled together - take small, simple steps. Two to the right, two to the left. Then one to the right and one to the left. Moving to face one another, they take three steps, spinning away form each other and then clapping before spinning back in. They switch places and repeat the spin and clap, before returning to their first position and the whole thing begins again.

“Doesn’t look hard to learn,” Mollymauk observes. Caleb starts, surprised that the tiefling’s thoughts so closely mirrored his own. He has been focused a while, he realizes, and much of their party has separated to watch the dance more comfortably. Caleb sees Nott has somehow found more flowers and is weaving them into Yasha’s braids.

He feels Molly’s eyes on him, and when he looks back a hand is extended cordially. “Shall we? I’ll lead, if you’d like.”

He can feel heat rise to his face, and his heart pounds a little too hard in his chest. “Ah- I am sure- wouldn’t Jester rather-”

Molly grins, wicked and amused. “You really do space out, don’t you? Her dance card’s full.” He jerks a thumb out toward the dancers again, just as Jester pulls Fjord with her into the circle - couples gladly opening space for them. Fjord’s face is a dark muted red and Caleb thinks he looks close to afraid.

A corner of his mouth turns up, in spite of himself. “And if we go to join them we will not be able to watch.”

Mollymauk laughs. “You know me, darling; much more of a participant than a spectator.”

He wants to make a biting remark about how well the group can possibly know him, but the ‘darling’ causes his brain to freeze long enough for the remark to die before it can form.

And, well, Mollymauk is right. Caleb does know that about him; that he enjoys the spotlight and that he, too, has no sense of dignity whatever, and that he seems to enjoy learning new things as much as he does (although their taste in new things varies wildly, the excitement in learning is there and is recognizable). And as much as he has been struggling to avoid it, Caleb knows that Molly knows him too. He knows that Caleb could protest this much more stubbornly if he really wanted to avoid this, and the fact that he hasn’t can only mean one thing.

At least the they are not the only party members dancing, and he will not be the center of everyone’s attention.

With as much ease as he is capable of, Caleb puts his hand in Molly’s.

Like with Fjord and Jester, the circle of dancers opens up when they join them. This dance isn’t led in the same way the dance Caleb taught Mollymauk had been, which is probably for the best since neither of them really know who should take the lead. In the end they settle on Molly being in what served as that part.

The music has picked up speed by the time they join, apparently with the musicians having decided that the dancers understood what they were doing by their third or fourth go around. Thankfully, both of them are quick studies, and the up in speed doesn’t throw them. Caleb can hear Molly quietly speaking the steps aloud, likely for his own benefit as much as for Caleb’s.

They go through it twice, simply enough that Caleb doesn’t need all of his focus of the steps and finds it wandering to things like the way the fading sunlight catches on Mollymauk’s jewelry, the way his coat flairs out when he spins, the lopsided smile on his face when they step together and then apart again.

So he is caught completely by surprise when the music speeds up again.

He stumbles a little through a step left and hears Mollymauk laugh softly. “Do you think this is how it is supposed to go, or are they doing it to fuck with us?”

“Could be both,” Caleb says.

When it loops to the beginning again, the musicians speed up once more.

“Oh dear,” Molly says, still with easy good humor. “I think you’re right.”

The tune begins to steadily increase with speed, and as the dancers stumble through keeping in time laughter begins to fill the square. With what little attention Caleb can spare on their surroundings, he begins to see couples stepping out of the circle breathless as much with exertion as with laughter, leaning on each other for support.

“What-” Calev says, short of breath himself, “do you suppose - one gets - if they’re the last - ones left?”

Molly is grinning, his face a little flushed and laughter wrinkling the corners of his red eyes. “Want to - find out?”

"I am not sure - how much more of this - I can handle,” he admits with a rueful smile of his own. They spin away from each other, clap, and when they spin back together Caleb’s vision takes a moment to catch up with him and he stumbles, leaning heavily enough onto Molly that the tiefling stumbles a bit himself.

“Aye, I think we’re done,” he says, keeping a hand on Caleb’s arm and stepping them outside the circle - which is all well and good because they speed up, again. “I feel like if we looked into it there are probably stories of people being trampled in this dance.”

Caleb laughs at the concept of there being sordid histories behind types of dances. It sounds very much like something Molly would know.

“Looks like Jester and Fjord are still going strong,” Molly observes.

“If it is a competition, Jester will settle for nothing other than winning,” Caleb says. “Poor Fjord.”

Molly shakes his head. “Poor Fjord, indeed. It’s a good thing he didn’t drink as much as some of us did earlier. Though now I’m wondering about some of these other fine couples.” He links his arm more comfortably with Caleb’s. “Come on, let’s watch this from a safer distance.”

They take no more than two steps before Molly stops them again “Ah! One second!” He stoops down to retrieve something off the dusty stone street, straightening with Nott’s flower crown in his hands, which clearly had been flung from his head at some point in all the spinning (it is, by some miracle, still holding together). “Nott would hate me if you lost this.”

He settles the crown back on Caleb’s head with more care than is perhaps necessary, and his hands linger on the sides of his face ever so slightly longer than need be, and Caleb’s heart is pounding a little faster than the can be solely blamed on the exertion from dancing.

“There,” Mollymauk says, suddenly dropping his hands and dusting them on his coat. He doesn’t take Caleb’s arm again. “There you are. King of Oktoberfest again.”

Caleb groans, internally more grateful for a reason to be irritated than he is actually irritated. “If you keep this up I will have to teach you Zemnian just so you will stop offending my ears.”

“That’s the goal, darling,” Molly says sweetly. His long legs take him a few steps ahead of Caleb and Caleb lets him go.

It means he doesn’t see it when Caleb brings a hand to absently touch his cheek where Molly’s hands brushed so lightly a moment ago, feeling the heat in his face and knowing he must be blushing quite red indeed. He slows a bit more, watching Molly as he walks away as the setting sunlight catches on his coat's embroidery until it looks liked the embers of a dying fire.

Oh, he thinks. Oh dear.

#caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #critical role #Widomauk #Widoleaf #cr #critical role fan fiction #they danced the Korobushka #at least the Ren Faire version of the Korobushka

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andilim4789 · 3 years

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moonbrianna96 · 4 years

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everyonesomething · 6 years

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Session 21b

Grim: "I like that, you're good folks."

Malkas: "My girl said she was goin' and what was I gonna do without her, you know?"

Grim: "You are just hook line 'n sinker for her, huh"

Malkas grins a little lopsided. His jaw is sore. "Yep."

In this session, Grim and Mal bond and the group blows off steam.

The set-up: The day after the cyclops encounter, at a nondescript truck stop.

The Game: After dinner, Mal and Grim are loitering outside in the parking lot. Mal sees a halfling struggling to change a tire and goes to help him, getting paid with a bag of Luhix—a popular recreational drug—for his troubles.

Looking to unwind, he and Grim go to a nearby bar to chat and swap stories.

Malkas: "Don't kidnappings, decapitations, all that happen literally everywhere? There was a beach in Waterdeep too and a kid from down my block got eaten by a real big mother Displacer beast."

Grim: "Sure. Ain't everywhere that floats its economy off it, though."

Malkas: "Except Waterdeep probably does. Didn't you ever hear about that crime boss beholder?"

"Ruled the city for three hundred years and didn't even have thumbs."

Grim: "Shit, don't talk to me about the Waterdeep families. There's damn few jobs I wont touch, Malkas, but even I got more sense than working that city."

Malkas: "It was a very interesting place to grow up in."

Malkas finishes his beer in one slug.

Malkas: "When I was a kid, I remember, before the houses around us got so built up, there were these two big guys, a dwarf and a half-orc maybe, digging a big hole in an open field."

"And I was, maybe seven? And I wander over there..."

Grim lights up a cigarette while she listens

Malkas: "Tell me they're playing a real fun game of Hole-Digging."

"And give me, like, a shovel."

Grim snorts softly

Malkas: "And they just... let me dig for a while. And then when it was starting to get dark, they take back the shovel, give me a handful of candy and a pack of smokes and send me on my way. And "Don't tell anybody."

Grim: "Real trusting kid."

They drink some more, talk some more, add a little spice to their evening with the Luhix, and decide to do some bar-hopping to burn off a little steam. They've both been feeling too tightly-wound between the monster fights and being cooped up in a car that a change of pace would do them some good.

Malkas: "Alright, usually when I was high, I'd go find somebody who would call me Horns or Imp and get into a fistfight."

Grim grins, wide and crooked

Grim: "You're speakin' my language, Malkas."

Malkas: "I don't know if we're gonna find anyone racist around here."

Grim: "In a shitstain truck stop asshole've the midwest, are you kiddin' me? Practically grow 'em for export, towns like these."

"Hell, all we gotta do is get off've the roadway here, head on out where the money from nonhumans don't spend."

Malkas: "Arright, well I'll be buzzing for another hour, so let's boogie."

Grim elbows him and heads off along one of the smaller roads

Grim: "You're a whole lot more fun than you act, I'll tell you."

Malkas: "Whaaat? How do I act?"

Grim: "Oh shit like you ain't playin' up the butter don't melt in your mouth, never done a crime good kid for Edith day in an' out."

Mal confesses to Grim that he's always been under pressure to be the good kid, his two older brothers were a handful for his parents. He did his best, but he wasn't perfect, and it's still something that puts a strain on him—worse now that he's head over heels for Edith and doesn't want to ruin their relationship.

At another bar, Grim asks Mal how things are going with Edith and apologizes for accidentally causing tension between them. It's water under the bridge for him, he's a lot more concerned now about going to her parents' place.

Malkas: "We, we're .I-it's gonna, uh... Her parents are kind of awful and I hate 'em a lot."

"And I sure as [infernal] don't wanna GO and stay at their house but but but"

"She wants me there with her."

"So I'm going."

Malkas reaches over his head to scratch his left ear with his right hand.

Grim: "Sure they sound like fuckin' grade-A fuckin' assholes, but what the hell d'you say to that, kid's clearly got a blind spot size've a boulder over them."

Malkas: "Yeah yeah yeah I know but its her parents so.... What'm'I gonna do? I made you guys come see my dumb family."

Grim leans back in her seat, rocking one leg restlessly while they talk

Grim shrugs and toys with her empty glass, spinning it around and around in one hand

Grim: "Shit, I don't know what the hell kind've advice you think you're gonna get from me, I don't know jack about none've this."

Malkas drums his fingers on the table. Incessantly. "Oh no, I don't want advice, there's no angle here, I just mean we're doing great aside from the impending parents disapproval, you know?"

Malkas: "Because their grandkids might come out looking like demons. Devils."

"It's just a thing! That's happening. I need another hit do you want another hit?"

Grim: "Fuck 'em, who needs 'em? Ain't like Runekill's got trouble standin' on her own two feet. Hell d'you need with a lotta near strangers getting up your ass about whatever the hell- fuck yeah let's do it"

Malkas: "Yes good."

Honestly confronting your fears and concerns with a close friend can be helpful!

They decide the bar isn't doing it for them and head back out into the night to find a more physical activity. Since rockwall climbing hasn't been invented yet, they just climb the side of a building to loiter on a rooftop.

Malkas balances on the thin wall around the roof.

Grim dumps her pack and hat on the top of the roof once she gets up there and turns to survey the town while she lights up

Grim: "Y'ever think about how fuckin' easy it would be to just take a bunch've people out?"

"Fucked up."

Malkas: "Hahaah this place sucks."

"What, like, shoot people from a rooftop?"

Grim: "Sure, or whatever. Blow 'em up. Lure in a monster, drive into some big ass building. Don't take fuckin' nothin' to mess up a whole lotta people good. Kinda crazy it don't happen all the time, y'know?"

Grim huffs out smoke

Grim: "Set a fire."

Malkas: "Maybe it does out in the wilderness."

Grim: "Yeah, but there ain't so many people all together in one place."

Malkas: "Mn."

Grim sights down her rifle and scans the darkened streets for a few moments, then snorts and sets it aside

Grim: "Fucked up shit, man."

Malkas rocks on his heels, his tail swinging around to set his balance on the wall.

Grim sits on the edge of the building and draws her knees up, leaning over precariously

Grim: "How long 'til we all bite it out here, you reckon?"

Malkas: "We're not gonna die out here."

Grim: "The hell we ain't, we all got a timer. Someone's kickin' it sooner or later."

Malkas: "I I just - I just think tha-that weeee're... Gonna be fine. We got somebody to heal us. And Syd, Syd's obviously got a through line to Bahamut."

"And I don't see us ALL dyin' until we're up against something too big."

"Like Tam."

Grim nods

Grim keeps nodding

Malkas paces up and down the thin wall.

Grim: "Man, I want somethin' to fuck me up good though, y'know that feeling? Like I want to get laid out, it ain't enough 'til somethin' takes me the fuck down."

Malkas: "Or maybe tomorrow, a red dragon's gonna fly down outta nowhere and toss the car into the ocean."

Grim: "S'a convertible, red dragon'd just eat us."

Malkas: "Alright alright okay okay okay okay GRIM."

"Grim."

Malkas turns and faces her, "Grom."

Grim: "I know about red dragons, man, I know some shit - about dragons."

Malkas: "The only thing I know how to do anything. Is by pretending that whatever dumb shit I'm doing is not ever gonna kill me."

"It's the only way I could keep breaking into old dungeons filled with spike traps and swinging axes and the only way I keep fucking with mummies."

"So... Yeah, we're all gonna die horribly! Probably. But, you know. Pretend we're not. And then we won't maybe."

Malkas hops off the wall.

Malkas: "What about dragons?"

Grim: "Dragons'll eat a car, ain't the point. Ain't the- point is that's your shit, Mal, that's all you an' prob'ly Edith and hell, most normal folks, but that ain't my shit. That ain't how I get goin', alright."

"Somethin's got a mark on me an' somethin's gonna take me out someday, an' I ain't goin' without a fight; So I gotta go hard, I gotta want it, that's how the fuck I keep on goin', I gotta find that shit that's gonna wreck me for good."

"If I ain't lookin' for it, I ain't doin' all I can do, an' that ain't me."

"Fuck man, I wanna see my death comin' an' look it right in the eye an' get at least a good shot off first."

Deep, philosophical conversation about the nature of life and humanity with a close friend can be helpful!

After a lull in conversation, Grim talks Mal into having a spar with her on the rooftop. It starts clean and friendly, even though they both nearly fall over the side at different times. They devolve into taking pot-shots at each other before Mal pulls out his trump card.

Helia (GM): The rooftop goes black.

Grim freezes

Malkas punches Grim and then the darkness evaporates.

Grim stumbles and grabs for her rifle instinctively

Malkas snickers.

Grim casts around wildly and levels it at Mal before she realises what's up and curls her lip

Grim: "Fuckin' asshole, magic's cheatin'."

Malkas: "It's not really magic, it's just the gifts that my ancestors gave me."

Grim: "Magic gifts. Asshole."

Malkas holds up his hands, "Alright, alright."

Grim sets her rifle down and spits blood again, then wipes her chin

Grim: "Goddamn magical creature shit, ain't no less magic just 'cause it's in your blood."

Malkas: "Alright, I'm sorry. You want a free swing?"

Grim: "Nah, I'm good. Ain't out to kill your paper tissue ass."

They call the match at that and split a post-workout drink before deciding to go back to the diner. Grim verifies with Mal that they're friends in time for them to both slip and fall off the building on descent.

When they get back to town, they join the rest of the gang—Edith more than a little alarmed at their roughened state.

Edith Runekill springs to her feet and rushes over to Grim and Mal, looking horrified.

Edith Runekill: "Oh no!! What happened to you two? Are you okay????"

Pepper steadies the table as Edith rams into it, it's already mostly supported by soggy napkins shoved under the legs.

Malkas: "Heyyy Edi-bell! What? We're good, we're great. Great great great. Keen even."

Pepper squints at Mal.

Malkas: "How's it goin', Pep."

Edith Runekill cocks her head to the side. "You... don't really look it. Did you two get in a fight?"

Grim raises her tray of pie out of Edith's general radius

Grim: "Goddamn Runekill, back up off my ass there will you?"

Pepper: "Oh, it's going. You're awful bright eyed and bushy tailed for looking like you got run over by a truck."

Malkas: "No, nonono, just... General roughhousing. No big deal!"

Edith Runekill: "Should we get Capridi? Or... or Millicent?"

Grim: "Yeah, nah, nah, we ain't been into much, weren't much but a li'l scrappin'."

Edith Runekill dabs at Mal's face with a clean napkin.

Edith Runekill: "You two... are speaking kinda oddly. Did. Um. Did you drink a lot?"

Sweet, sweet Edith.

Grim and Mal reassure her that they just had a sparring lesson, no serious damage done. She accepts his explanation, but sends a message Pepper asking her if she thinks they're acting weird. Pepper's not getting in the middle of this one and just tells Edith to let them ride out the evening and worry about it in the morning. Edith is on board with this suggestion, until Mal and Grim let slip that they both fell off a building.

Edith isn't going to just worry about this in the morning and questions if the roof of a building was the best place for a sparring lesson. Edith points out that someone could have been injured or killed for no reason—everyone is already risking their lives on the journey, there's no need to go looking for more trouble. Grim gets defensive at the lecture, it's not news to her that any one of them might die on the trip.

Grim: "Shit, Runekill, we ain't all the same person out here, I ain't about that shit and I ain't interested in playin' at it. Yeah man, prob'ly gonna die, prob'ly a couple of us before this thing's through, turns out it's one hell of a lot easier stickin' the whole lifestyle out when you want that."

Edith Runekill: "I don't want some historian to sit down in the year 2100 and read about how Szass Tam conquered the world because the people trying to stop 'im got drunk and fell off a roof."

Grim: "And guess what, that ain't gonna happen, cause here's some news: we ain't goddamn dead."

Malkas sits up a little straighter.

Edith Runekill: "And I'm terribly glad of that!! But it's just... [infernal] fuck, [common] the odds're stacked against us enough without just taking... completely unnecessary risks..."

"I made peace with the fact that I'm probably gonna die out here but that doesn't mean I wanna and I won't try not to."

Grim: "Who the fuck are you to tell me what's necessary, Runekill?"

Malkas: "Hey, okay, come on."

Pepper: "C'mon, man," she throws her spoon on the table.

Grim glowers over at Edith, lips pursed around her cigarette

Malkas: "Edi, let's get some fresh air, okay?"

Edith Runekill: "I mean. I'm just having kind of a hard time seeing how knocking one another off a dang roof is 'necessary'. I know I'm just a naive country girl but I'm having a bit of trouble figuring that one out..."

Malkas looks pleadingly at Edith.

Malkas looks a little less deranged with his pupils less dilated,

Grim: "Girl, I spend day in day out dead on the inside an' livin' on the out. You fuckin' tell me I ain't entitled to feel like a real person once in a while, like a livin' thing. You don't see it cause you ain't gotta, you got your warm feelings about doin' right an' keepin' lore, an' your li'l devil boy on your arm. You ain't ever had to take a punch to keep goin' another day. Don't you come at me like your world's my world, it ain't."

Pepper taps the table like "annnnd there it is".

Sydney Gaydos is sliding in at the worst time! "Oh! There you all are!"

Malkas slams his hand down on the table.

Helia (GM): Everyone falls asleep.

Edith Runekill , who has had a traumatic, near-death experience every day for the entire adventure, doesn't need to hear THAT from Grim.

Sydney Gaydos does in fact have the worst timing.

Edith Runekill falls face-first on Pepper's fries.

Malkas is shaking a little, looking beyond furious.

Pepper doesn't sleep but doesn't really react.

Grim is Out like a light

Mal gently wakes Edith and leads her outside, nudging Sydney and the waitress awake as he passes. Sydney joins Pepper and the sleeping Grim at the table as Mal and Edith sit on a bench outside. He tells Edith he got upset and cast Sleep on the diner by accident, angry over how Grim was talking to her. He also tells her what he and Grim were up to with the Luhix and apologizes for worrying her and taking on extra risks.

Malkas: "Anyway, uh... Grim gets a little more aggressive apparently."

Edith Runekill: "Just... just say you'll be careful, okay? I... I'm afraid enough of losing you without it just being some stupid mishap."

Malkas: "I will. Sorry. We were just feeling a little pent up, I guess."

"But yeah. I'll, uh, be more careful."

Edith Runekill: "I mean. We all do in stressful situations. And frankly we all get kinda blasted. Just... maybe not on a roof...?"

Malkas: "I suggested tree."

Malkas: "Also, we were very, very high."

Edith Runekill: "On... cannabis?"

Malkas: "... Remember when you found me in that deli at 7am?"

Edith Runekill: "When you drank all those espressos? At least I was pretty sure that's what happened."

"When I was trying to reconstruct the chain of events that led you there."

Malkas: "... No, uh, I helped a guy change his tire and he gave Grim and me some Luhix."

"And usually, for me alone, leads to tree climbing, bagels, maybe one streetfight against some asshole calling me "devil boy."

Malkas shoots a look at the diner.

Malkas: "Turns out, Grim's ... uh, she's a pretty bad influence on me?"

Edith Runekill: "...Luhix? Really?"

"Um."

Malkas: "It's not that rare in Waterdeep."

Edith Runekill: "No kiddin.'"

"Uh... yeah. Maybe Grim is kinda a bad influence on you...?"

Malkas: "Mom used to rub it on Lem's gums when he was teething."

Edith Runekill: "Well, in medicinal quantities, I assume...?"

Mal gets one last thing off his chest with Edith: he asks her if she's just dating him to make her parents upset. She denies this, of course. She loves Mal with all her heart. Aw, these two.

Inside the diner, Pepper fills Sydney in on what she missed. Neither one of them are too impressed with how the evening ended up, but they're content to let it go for now, there's more important issues at hand.

Grim tenses with a sharp intake of breath, as if startled, and then freezes for a second, totally disoriented by waking up slumped on the table

Pepper: "[Elvish] for the love of--" she recoils as Grim comes back.

Sydney Gaydos: "... hello Grim!"

Grim looks up in the direction of Syd's voice, half buried under her own hair and looking a little like a cornered animal for a moment

Grim: "Th'fuck?"

Pepper: "You were asleep forrrr," she consults the clock over the lunch counter. "I dunno, a few minutes?"

Grim glances around warily and then runs her fingers across her mouth, wiping away a little of the blood from her split lip

Grim: "What the fuck just happened?"

Pepper slides a glass of water over in Grim's direction.

Grim eyeballs the water and then Pepper with fairly open hostility

Sydney Gaydos: "Now now let's all be civil here..."

Pepper: "You were asleep," she repeats herself as if it's the first time she said it. "In a magic kind of way. After you lost your head at Edith."

Grim sits up and rakes her hair out of her face, gaze twitching from Pepper to Syd and back

Grim: "Who th'hell's been castin' goddamn magic on me?"

Pepper: "Well first off, you should know it was an accident. Probably even hit some poor asshole just trying to use the toilet."

Sydney Gaydos slowly begins to tense up. "Right, an accident."

Grim growls, gaze fixed on Pepper now

Grim: "Who"

"Cast"

"Goddamn"

"Magic"

"on me"

Malkas throws a pebble at the window.

Malkas: "Well. Remember me as I was."

Grim flinches and looks up, then spots Mal and scowls

Grim confronts Mal who apologizes up-front for the Sleep spell and then gestures for her to follow him outside for a private conversation. He tells her the evening was fun, but Grim crossed a line talking to Edith the way she did. Grim considers his words, and they both make up.

Malkas: "I get the idea we have to ... hold it together a lot."

"Probably have been the only ones holding it together for longer than most people should have been at our ages."

Grim exhales smoke slowly, watching Mal, and gives a nod and a half shrug

Malkas: "And so... letting loose, as we did tonight, while fun..."

"Man we agree on some terrible ideas."

"I'm sure there's some deep reason for that, but I'm not really interested in that."

Grim: "You don't gotta justify it, Mal."

Malkas: "And I am sorry about the spell. You went off at Edith and that Devil Boy crack... I dunno, I was about to go over the table at you."

"Came out a little differently."

Grim has to think about that

Grim: "Don't even recall what I said there. More temper than anything, I guess."

Malkas: "Oh, you know, it was your basic "YOU DON'T KNOW ME" thing."

"Yeah. Temper. Me too."

Grim scratches the side of her head, thinking

Grim: ".....y'said y'were lookin' for someone to fight. Who'd call you devil boy."

"......I'm a hell of a shit stirrer when i want to be."

Malkas snorts a laugh, "Oh... I DID, didn't I?"

Grim: "Been spoilin' for a fight all night. Still am, kinda."

Malkas stands up and refolds his sleeves.

Malkas: "Okay. Take two?"

Grim: "For real?"

Malkas nods. "Yeah. Let's get this out of our systems. Because I'm still a little pissed about the Devil Boy thing."

Grim studies him for a moment, then nods

Friendship restored.

Back inside the diner, Edith beats herself up over what happened—the stress of trying to hold herself and the group together boiled over for her tonight, too. Pepper and Syd reassure her that it wasn't her fault and Mal and Grim will work the situation out between them. She's still unsure as the two re-enter the diner even bloodier than before, but accepts that they've made up in their own way.

Grim apologizes to Edith for what she said. With some of the stress and tension resolved, the group settles back in the diner booth for a late-night post-fight meal.

Edith Runekill looks from Grim, to Mal, to Grim, to Mal again.

Malkas takes a sip of water.

Grim leans over and spits blood into an empty cup

Edith Runekill in a very small voice: "oh auril i have a type"

Pepper: "[Elvish] Plaguewrought girls are weird," mostly to herself.

Edith Runekill: [Elvish] "We kinda are."

Pepper: "ANYway." She points to Grim. "This place makes a pretty amazing plate of hashbrowns, if you're not going to bed for awhile. I was probably gonna get a plate, myself."

Malkas: "Sounds good. Blow my mind, diner."

Grim looks up at Pepper and studies her kind of warily for a second. Then nods slowly, perplexed.

Grim: "Sure."

Pepper goes up to the counter to order because the servers sure-as-shit are avoiding the table at this point.

Grim goes back to cleaning the worst of the blood off her face. And knuckles.

Pepper wanders back. "It shouldn't take too long, but I think I gotta pick the plates up from the counter when they're done."

Grim gives Pepper another odd look but says nothing

Edith Runekill: "I guess... we look like a pretty rowdy bunch, huh?"

Pepper piles up some of the empty plates from the table to make room.

Pepper: "Oh yeah, you're a killer-diller."

Edith Runekill: "A real rough and tumble crowd."

Grim: "Reckon we are a pretty rowdy bunch."

Edith Runekill: "Often with literal tumbling."

Grim looks down and dips her napkin in some water to clean off her hands

Malkas: "I'm gonna ... wash up."

Grim is starting to feel kind of like absolute garbage in both the physical and moral sense

Malkas smooches Edith on the cheek, leaving a slightly blood kiss mark.

Edith Runekill smiles, not noticing that she has blood on her face, gross

Sydney Gaydos: "... Ah Edith, you have a little... let Gaydos get it." She tugs a piece of her jacket sleeve onto a finger to gently wipe the blood off of her cheek.

Edith Runekill: "Oh! Thanks, Sydney. Didn't... didn't see that."

Pepper glances over at the counter when she hears a bell dinging. She takes a stack of the dirty dishes with her and comes back with plates of food. "Told'ja it wouldn't take long, they really wanna get rid of us."

Malkas returns, cleaner but bruised.

Grim moves down the booth to make room for them, only leaving a light smudge of blood in her wake

Pepper slides a plate to Mal and sits down to eat.

Malkas searches for a fork.

Grim slides him the one she tried to stab his tail with earlier

Pepper surveys the table. It's a crime scene. "Everyone's got enough cash on 'em to leave a good tip after this mess right?"

Malkas: "Yeah."

Grim grunts

Edith Runekill: "Yeah. Don't worry about it."

Grim remembers the property damage they committed earlier and feels kind of shitty about it

Grim adds it to the laundry list at this point

Sydney Gaydos is 100% just going to leave some of those gemstones they got from the cyclops killing.

Pepper dumps what's left of her food onto Grim's plate because she's really been eating non-stop for hours, she's hit her limit.

Grim pauses when this happens and gives Pepper another of those odd looks

Grim: "....thanks."

Pepper grins. "Welcome."

Grim glances along the table at the others briefly, as if looking for some sign that they might be in on whatever this is

Grim looks back at Pepper, then slowly goes back to her food

I think these kids'll be alright.

#previously on #summary #neverwinter 1933

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survivor-iceland · 4 years

Text

Ep. 2 - “I will not be a little tea pot this time” - Ellie

dylan r

OKAY! New game! I’m excited to start! I’m just kinda trying my best to socialize, I’m horrible at talking to other people, my plan early is usually to just win tribals and form small connections with people

Although I flopped SO HARD during that challenge it’s unbelievable I literally tried that for hours & I couldn’t do it like literally

Not much else, I’m just kinda vibing.

Jack

So Ellie totally spilled that she's gonna send stuff to our tribe so i'm telling my tribe that. I think raffy is gonna do the same. Also im thinking everyone on one so that we mess with them.

Jack

My audio is going crazy and cutting out and im like AM I BEING SPOKEN TO????!?!?

Jack

I'm chatting with maynor and stephen and thats going good. but also Raffy is cool but imma try to put some false ideas about the cookie game on him

Raffy

There was one hinky vote for me which tells me that people think I am push-y and a leader on this tribe which is not ok. I mean I want to win challenges, but I don't want to be seen as aggressive. However, I guess I cannot help it. I need to get into an alliance soon. Otherwise, I'll find myself not within a majority. I guess my social game isn't strong enough so I need to rely on my strategic game.

Keith John

Well, its been about three days since the game began, It's going okay for me. We won Immunity so game talk has been on the low. The time difference really screwed me over, I wasn't part of the latest immunity challenge discussion. Even though I wouldn't have contributed much in that convo, Having no input or talk during such moments puts me on the back foot (socially). The saving grace is that I was able to connect to four others through one on one convos. That has helped me built a sort of majority alliance, But as a thumb rule of survivor, unless we don't through a vote together. U cant trust anyone. Hopefully, it sticks and I am able to get through the first few votes. I don't know why but I keep getting a feeling that maybe John and Cormac are telling me what I wanna hear and make me feel comfortable. I hope that isn't true and the alliance is genuine. Cause I feel I really get along with them and can really work with them for a long time. I think both of them are awesome. The only other person I trust is Zoe, we just connected quick. Sierra though in my alliance I haven't yet had a strong one on one conversation with her. let's see what's in store in the coming days

Jack

Were planning to fuck with the other tribe by sending a spy to seed some accidental plan spillage. John’s a smart cookie. MaynorJay. I am slightly sad you split me and Timmy up. The cast reveal and seeing Timmy in that tribe i was like :0. But you did make it one world so i could still talk game with him 😊. Plus i missed being hosted by you. ❤️

John

this plan i concocted could either be really good or really bad. all we gotta do is throw the other side off their scent. but can we do it and make it believable? i guess we will find out tonight.

Ellie

Cookies is chaotic: more detail coming later

Jack

I took a risk for the idol hunt that might cost me my vote at the next tribal. I'm both regretting this decision and thinking it'll probably maybe be worth it...?

John

ok my plan dissolved like an alka seltzer. that’s fun. we love that. i just hope we win at this point. if we lose, that’s going to make things quite interesting.

Ellie

K so lack of communication has officially reached another level, this would be easier if people spoke???? Even Joseph did and he had finals!!!!! Some people have time to try to get on my good side and strategize but not to fucking talk about the challenge???? Some of yall👀👀

Sierra

Sitting out of this challenge was agonizing! I couldn’t be a part of any of the strategy talk for the challenge itself... so I had little to no clue what to expect as I watched. I really don’t want to go to Tribal Council, either. I’m hoping that we can pull out a win and I won’t have to stir the pot and potentially show my cards alliance-wise this early in the game.

Dylan C

I haven't been talking to people enough today and should probably do some of that. Well, I certainly will if we go to tribal but I'm hoping we don't

Jack

Cromac and I chatted for a bit and agreed on a sort of alliance, so that's a thing. Other than that I have fingers crossed for us winning this challenge!

Sierra

So we lost immunity, and I’m PISSED. We fully expected Keith to get 60 cookies from our tribe alone, but he only ended up with 55. That means that somebody on our tribe did not play into the tribe’s strategy. Now my butt could be on the line and I didn’t even have a chance to play in the immunity challenge! I feel relatively safe with my alliance, but anything could happen between now and tribal. Here’s hoping my five stick together!

Timmy

We won!! There was strategy used on the tribe but also people just tried to take control of what everyone else was doing. Like if they try to do that for the challenge they’ll try to do that for votes and that’s not how I’m trying to roll. It kind of sucks that the people I want to work with are on the other tribe. I want to message jack bc they seem chill based on the call last night after tribal. Also there is no way I’ll get an idol bc these slide puzzles are ridiculous.

Sierra

Right now it looks like the votes will be heading towards Stephen. I really like him and think he could be a good ally... but the numbers are against him right now, and that makes it difficult to save him. I don’t want to sink my game attempting to save his... so it looks like Stephen will be the first one voted off of our tribe. I’ll really miss having another literature lover on the tribe, and I’ll miss having some intercontinental diversity, but I’d rather save my own neck right now.

Maynor

So I am now in an alliance with Cormac, Zoe, Sierra, and John. And it is called Maynor’s lovers for some reason. But it now got changed to Maynor’s Angels. 👀 jay came to my host chat and was like ___ is shook. And i died as well. So far the target seems like it might be Stephen that was brought up by John. But we still have until tomorrow so who knows. As long as im safe that is all that matters.

John

hi. i’m john, i’m 20 years old, and i’m absolutely worried stephen has an idol. he just...doesn’t connect. and it puts me on edge. so i want the vote to be somewhat split. we need to put the majority of them on stephen, but have one or two of us worms put down someone else’s name just in case stephen pulls out an idol. no matter what, us 4 (me, cormac, sierra, and zoe) need to get through this vote so we have the majority.

Jack

WOW. Okay so Cormac and I a pretty tight rn. Plan is to vote either Maynor or Stephen. Cormac is closer with Zoe, who i haven'y heard from much. Sierra and I have had some banter with Sierra and opened up private channels with them. Imma check that they're good with Stephen or Maynor, and which they'd prefer.

Jack

Sierra seems to want to keep Maynor around more than Stephen while I'm feeling the other way. I'm down with either so hopefully things work out.

Dylan C

https://cnet2.cbsistatic.com/img/tcQaSg5LL_0-HBuWFPxpguK71TM=/1092x0/2019/06/06/b11ccfac-685e-4cb2-a239-b09af07b1baf/toriflynn2.jpg

Jack

IDOLS EXSIST. And hopefully Stephen and maynor dont have any

Jack

I MADE A DUMB CRAZY PLAN. Like I said to the others it basically, we make a chat with Stephen, tell him heyyyyy lets vote Maynor, then go and actually vote Stephen. I feel a little bit evil but also i totally get the reason blindsides are so popular. I FEEL LIKE A SPY!

Dylan C

I love you, Jay

Jack

The trap has been set, hopefully Stephen falls for the it and nothing goes to shit. And also that Cormac's not pulling a con on me. I doubt he is but pArAnOiA.

Jack

STEPHEN RESPONDED AND HE SEEMS DOWN WITH VOTING MAYNOR AND BELIEVES CORMAC AND ME AND I CHATTED WITH JOHN AND HES DOWN WITH VOTING STEPHEN BUT O MY GOD IM SO NERVOUS. sorry bout the caps lock, I feel like it was needed to covey my FEELiNGS

Jack

All the gears are locked in. Everyone's voting Stephen; Stephen seems to be on board with voting Maynor; Maynor will hopefully stick with going for Stephen; and Keith will maybe hopefully I hope go with what me and Cormac are going for.

That started off so confident and turned into "Hm maybe I'm not sure I hope"

John

ok so here’s the tea sisters. our original target was stephen. he’s more reserved, kinda quiet, but he’s going after less active players (ironic, right), and apparently he is targeting keith. so if an idol is played, it might be him. so the worms are talking to jack and trying to get him to come on board for our plan. jack goes into complete paranoia mode between all of us, and we’re concerned he’s a flight risk. so the vote is shifting to jack. being erratic is more dangerous in this game than silence is.

John

lmao if this blindside on jack completely backfires and i go to EOE, i’d actually scream over how much work is going into it. this is so messy and complex for literally day 4 of this game that it perplexes me. it’s either gonna be 4/3/1 or 5/2/1, i’m not sure yet. but strap in folks, we’re experiencing turbulence. the plane may be going down.

Jack

Other than Keith everyone's locked in to vote for Stephen, even Maynor. Me and Stephen chatted and he complimented me saying that i don't seem like a new player cause I'm so comfortable in chat and I'm here like "hahahah yeah so weird not like in acting all calm and collected at you so you don't know I'm voting for you." I do feel a bit bad voting out Stephen now that I've got a better vibe on him, and I've been leaving little hints of "sorry for voting you out" and "hope you come back from the edge" at him, but doing them as me saying "Oh I feel so bad for voting out Maynor" so that I don't blow my cover but yeah. Here's all my guilt dude ^

Joseph Collins

We got an immunity win which was nice. Apparently Malarkey (Melrakki) played with some type of strategy. And Ulfur went coocoo for coco puffs and won. So I’m happy about that. Putting a plan in motion to get some threats out soon. Need a really good numbers advantage first.

Zoe

GOD okay wow this is so much. We lost the immunity challenge, which is funny because I said that I was pretty confident we were going to win. I'm not concerned about being sent home, I'm almost positive Cormac would tell me if he knew, and I have good relationships with people in my tribe. And very good news: Well, after literally teaching myself how to do a slide puzzle, wrestling with the god-host herself over reference images and website dysfunctionality, I finally reached the end of the idol hunt and located a very beautiful advantage, which is to call a blind vote and then see what people vote even though nobody else can. I read it a few times and then facetimed with Cormac to tell him the good news, and we agreed we would keep it until swap or merge and use it to see where peoples' loyalties lie. We discussed all of our options, our relationships with different people, and who we want to keep close until later. I have a good relationship with Timmy and Maynor, and I think Dylan C as well, so that will come in handy when we swap and after the merge. We also solidified an alliance with us and Keith. FUCKING MEANWHILE, over in tribe Machievelli, the "oh, worm?" alliance has gone absolutely nuts strategizing over this vote. Jack has made everyone very paranoid by asking every person in the tribe who they were voting for. He had never messaged me individually before, and then just popped up and said he wanted to make sure I was voting for Stephen, which is who "oh, worm?" was originally going to vote for. I think it was Cormac who brought it up because Jack keeps info-dumping all of his thoughts onto him, but we all agreed to vote for Jack. Cormac and I discussed how to tell each person, one of those resulting in a final three deal with Keith, entitled "Zoe and the boys" as well as a yet to be titled final four alliance with me, Cormac, John, and Keith, yet to be named, that neither John nor Keith know about. Ultimately we said that we'd check back in in the morning and determine if anything had blown up overnight with Jack, since he seems to be very paranoid.

Jack

MWAHAHAAHHA Stephen believes out plan to vote maynoris genuine but it is a TRICK. Hope he doesn't hate me tho, seems like a nice guy. Those read receipts are just real sus being off man. but he tots believes me, Cormac, and Sierra.

Zoe

It's been more of a quiet morning, though we are all tense about what is going to happen at tribal. We don't think there is anything crazy happening with Jack, and ultimately we aren't telling Stephen about the plan in case he ends up telling a person he isn't supposed to. It should turn out to be a 6-1-1 vote, hopefully none of those going to me. I want to play a low key game here: I want to be making the decisions with Cormac, making tight alliances with other players, and then having them go out and do the dirty work. John seems like a good guy and a good player, and I also feel like he thinks he's the leader of our little group. It's definitely in our best interest to stay tight with him, but we have to be wary of him making alliances on the other side as well.

Maynor

I’m so fucken nervous and I swear if im voted out second. Ugh. Jack can go home. Like i did nothing to you and you just decide to come for me for no reason? Like wow. Jacks the target and I hope the people ive been talking to and aligned with are telling me the truth cuz it would totally suck if they are lying to me. There is really no reason to take me out who is active instead of jack who isnt active and just barely coming on. Fuuuuuuck me. Im be paranoid the whole fucken day arent I.

Stephen

So this tribe is kinda dull, so theyve chosen a dull vote. Maynor. I like maynor but he has been a little silent. The big question is: is there a majority alliance out there? The answer is yes, of course there is, there always is. I make my survivor career on not being in majority alliance then tearing them apart when the tea gets spilled. See: Tashirojima.

Jack

Made a bit of a conection with Ellie from the other tribe, and she seems pretty open to working together if we make it to the merge or if theres a tibe swap

Raffy

I am happy that we do not have to go to tribal. It allows me to be more social with people on my tribe without the threat of a vote looming over our heads.

Justin

This round was a lot more chill. Mostly cuz we won immunity, but I'm still keeping my relations with everyone good. I realized this round that Cormac, whom I have been talking to since last round, is on the other tribe lol. Luckily, I didn't tell him any compromising information, and now I have a connection to the other tribe. Plus, Keith from the other tribe reached out to me and we had a really good conversation. I like him a lot and I see myself working with him in a swap or merge. He is from Pakistan so he is also in the eastern hemisphere as well as Stephen. So, I was thinking I could possibly make an Old World alliance because we are closer to each other in times. However, Cormac has told me that his tribe is most likely voting out Stephen so that won't work out. I would say the only alliance I have so far is with Cormac, so I need to make something official with a player in my tribe before other people get them. Specifically, I want to ask Timmy to be in an alliance.

Maynor

Today has been really quiet. I really hope the people telling me im good are telling the truth. I hope my connections are strong enough to let me survive this first round. Im so nervous and ugh i hate this feeling. Id be extremely sad if I go over an inactive.

Raffy

Truly. Honestly. I'm so lazy. I don't want to do the idol hunt lmao

Jack

I can't remember if i already did a confessional about this but in case i didn't: Ellie and i chatted a bit and she seems open to working together later in the game and Cormac seems down with that plan too. Idk if i cant /trust/ Raffy but he also seems cool too

Ellie

So I feel like Raffy is a tiny bit annoyed with me sometimes cause I do share a lot, but I will not be a little tea pot this time. Raffy and I talk strategy all the time and he’s my closest ally but it honestly feels like I barely know him while my other close ally, Dylan, I have bonded with a lot and know a lot about them while still strategizing with them. It’s weird but I’m not going to push. He told me to stop talking about past games, and I’m like ? If I don’t mention you we’ll be chill

Ellie

Also we bonded with jack 👀

Maynor

Tonight, i may be leaving. Ill just be really sad. Mad at first cuz i tried my hardest in first immunity and then someone decides to mess up in the 2nd if by accident or on purpose. Mostly ill be sad cuz i wont be able to play with Timmy. I finally got to retalking with dylan and really miss them. Mostly ill be sad cuz let jay down for giving me a 3rd chance after my performance in rotuma. Ily Jay. Hopefully i stay. ❤️❤️❤️

Dylan C

I have to choose whether or not to do a part of the idol hunt where if I do it, I risk losing my vote at the next tribal I attend, and if I don't do it then I start the idol hunt over. Heck. I'll probably do it tbh.

Maynor messaged me a few minutes ago to say that he thinks he's getting voted out tonight, and that he enjoyed talking to me again. I don't want to see him go, in part bc I wanted to try to ally with him at some point and also just because I like him. Also I don't know what's going on on the other tribe but? Y'all are gonna vote out the guy who held a cup over his head for over two hours for your tribe? Smh

Jack

I really like Dylan C's vibe. Imma PM them later some more and see if that's a thing

Sierra

The vote switched when Jack started getting paranoid — his name wasn’t even coming up until he started asking everyone if they were SURE that they were down with the plan. It felt really awkward to have to reiterate over and over again that we were on his side... and it made it difficult to believe that HE was really with US. I’m really grateful that Stephen gets to stay around for another few days!

Dylan R

Ok so I did all of the puzzles for the idol hunt & then I FLOPPED on the challenge so: I have my clown outfit on.

I’m trying to make friends but it’s hard 🥺 I think if we go to tribal Joseph will go before be but I got some serious catch up to do if I wanna win

John

i know keith was originally our fifth, but i’m kinda wanting to work with maynor the more i talk to him. i want a fifth that will side with me if needed. and idk if keith could be that fifth that would benefit ME. it’s also just a thought. not tied to the idea yet. stay tuned kids.

cormac marek

Alrighty very eventful times leading up to our first tribal. I have been involved in like 13 alliance chats. Me and Zoe had an hour call last night on how she found an advantage to be kept between the two of us. It was amazing! Keith seems on board for anything. He has a "as long as its not me" gameplay. The core worm alliance was going to vote out Stephen but switched it to Jack after he became insane. It was sad because we were going to include Jack in on the deals. Maynor was told that Jack was gunning for him so that's a vote for Chaos Kass. If all goes smooth it will be unanimous. Stephen asked me right before tribal and I told him Jack was gunning for him and that majority was going for him. Hopefully this means he will be with us. It is really tricky. Let's see how the blood rolls

Joseph Collins

Patiently waiting on next immunityyyyyyy.

Timmy

Jack is trying to get maynor out...so jack can go.

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kelhirt · 5 years

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My Travel Journal: an adventure abroad.

Six months ago I returned from my dream; traveling alone to Europe. Though I wish my 2 month stint was more like 12, I couldn’t be more thankful for the time I had abroad. I realized as I was journaling to reflect on the year 2018, that my time in Ireland made a huge impact on my mental health and strengthened my resilience. I think it took so long for me to realize how big of a part it played in my life because I always wanted to answer the “How was your trip?!” question with the things I saw and experienced, not how those very things helped me grow or how they inspire me today.

On my first trip abroad with the high school history club to Italy in 2012, my advisor told us to keep a journal so we didn’t forget all the little happenings from the trip. Best advice I’ve ever received because I now have two journals filled with intimate details of my travels that probably would have been forgotten but are so unique.

Though I won’t share my exact entries, like all good solo-female travelers, I am going to share parts of my journal. I want to do this because a few friends and family asked me to continue "blogging” while I was abroad and I didn’t, but also because I miss writing. Additionally, I love hearing people’s stories, so why not share some of my personal anecdotes along with some pictures? Because the current attention span people have is less than a minute, I am going to split my entries up so they are more palpable and easy reads.

So the story begins...

I called my parents early in May (both of whom knew I was semi planning something) and told them I had a dilemma-- flights were crazy cheap, definitely in my allotted travel pot, and I had been wanting to go back to Ireland so bad. Doesn’t sound much like a dilemma they said...so with their validation, I booked the flight and cried for literally 20 seconds, stopped, asked myself out loud why I was crying when I was making my dream a reality, then jumped around. Huge emotional swing in less than a minute. Mid June I was set to go with a carry on, a backpack, and a general plan for the trip that would fall apart right when I landed.

My original plan was to do WorkAway; an international volunteering program where you do a few hours of work each day in return for food and lodging. I did all my research to make sure I didn’t need a special visa, and on all accounts, volunteering never showed that I’d need one...but the lady at customs when I landed in Dublin thought very differently. After 30 minutes of interrogation, showing all my money, holding back tears, and promising I wouldn’t do it, she let me into the country instead of sending my right back to the US on the next plane. I’m used to getting searched every time I fly, but this was a whole new level.

Thankfully a friend talked me into letting him pick me up in Dublin, so once I got through customs, I had a big warm hug and smiling face to welcome me; a moment of huge relief and sheer happiness. After a few chill nights in GaIway, I mischievously decided to go and stay with a woman I had previously set a WorkAway stay up with, who was as confused as I was about the situation. She ended up “adopting me” as a niece for a long weekend, so I hopped on a ferry and journeyed to the beautiful Aran Island: Inis Mor.

The people I fell into the hands of during the adventure still blow my mind, and Deirdre was the first on the list. Deirdre leads Celtic Spirituality Retreats and also is an outstanding musician. In her essence, she is an extraordinary Irish woman who values every second of each day.

We spent a few hours each day painting, singing to the music, and learning more about each other. As we were listening to my Spotify one day, Dermot Kennedy, one of my favorite musicians came on and she seemed surprised that I knew his work. Turns out she is his aunt. Small world-- Like is this seriously happening?! Check out this intensely beautiful duet they informally performed. After that, check them both out!

The painting we did happened in between morning meditation overlooking the Atlantic on a cliff, afternoon trips to the beach, hiking to Dun Aengus(a prehistoric fort) where they deemed me as a local and let me in for free, and getting lost in fields of sheep on evening walks.

I spent the summer solstice with Deirdre and her friends, drinking red wine, watching the sunset, and trying to keep up with the folk songs that were being sung by everyone. Later that weekend we all met again at the island’s bonfire night and did it all again...this time I was more familiar with the songs and because of that, I got roped into an Irish jig. Following that, the ladies got a tour of Deirdre's newly painted retreat/music space in her shed and we ended up having a deeply emotional time with song and a circle of gratitude. In meeting those unique and empowering women, I gained about six Irish moms and a place to stay later in my journey.

A few days and a hot Bus Eireann ride later, I was in Dingle, an extremely charming coastal town south of Galway. The first night I was there I went to a local pub and enjoyed great live music and Irish dancing done by a guy who was on Britain’s Got Talent, which was obviously amazing.

I shared a large hostel room with two women. One of my hostel mates was German and a professional badminton player--not sure how I didn’t know that that was a thing...where were the scouts at the doubles badminton 2016 UW-La Crosse Intramural championship when my partner and I killed it?

My other hostel mate was from California and we ended up having a riot of a time. Dingle is a small town and because she had been there for about a week, she knew many people. We ended up hitching a ride around Sleigh Head Drive with a local pub owner who also was a tour guide on his weeks off.

Honestly not sure how this stuff happens, but he gave us a personal tour. It involved stopping for homemade baked goods, wine, and a few beaches for a swim to cool off in the hot Irish summer, thanks to global warming. When he had to go back to bartending, he dropped us off at a beach-side pub where we drank Dingle Gin and tonics for hours, making friends with anyone and everyone, followed by hitchhiking home with some tourists from South America. Then of course we had to go see the best bartender in town for some more gin, which made me a very nauseous lady on the 4 hour bus ride back to Galway the next day, but I made it and even got to enjoy my first 99; a plain vanilla ice cream cone covered in sprinkles.Very popular on the beautiful Emerald Isle.

The days between my short trips away from Galway consisted of me spending time reading at Salthill beaches, people watching at the Sparch (Spanish Arch), and wandering around my favorite city. Being back in Galway felt like I was at home. I think it’s pretty obvious that I am obsessed with Ireland. But what isn’t so obvious is the strange pull I felt to return and the connection I feel when I am there. I link those feelings to my grandma who visited Ireland many times, and whose spirit is strong inside of me and has been since she died many years ago.

My first two weeks back in Ireland were nothing less than magnificent, setting the tone for the next 6 weeks, but I had more exploring to do.

Next stop: Deutschland!

#solotravel #girlslovetravel #chasingdreams #ireland #connection

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johndrakesecretagent · 7 years

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thought for the day from Dr. Bones

Greetings one and all! Dr. Bones here, Reporter of Fortune and unrepentant magical terrorist. Today, or rather should I say all this week, I'll be answering any questions you have in regards to the Occult and Anarchism. I'm an Egoist-Communist and fervant Insurrectionist as well, so feel free to throw a few of those questions at me if you'd like. Grabbing myself a beer let us propose a question: What does the Occult have to do with Anarchism? For me the quest of the Occult is one of the individual gaining understanding and power, a supremely Anarchist goal. The Occultist is aware they live in a primordial spiritual jungle, a vast and lovecraftian dimension where ancient gods and even corporate logos exert an etheric force upon the minds and bodies of all things physical. The Occultist, unlike the Mystic, doesn’t seek mere navel-gazing or mindless union with this often terrifying landscape but rather aims to directly benefit from it. Where a priest prays to god for forgiveness and grace I’m in a graveyard yelling at dead people to help me win at a blackjack game. The worldview of the Occultist is a very Gnostic one: the ancient gnostics going so far to “bind” the forces of the Zodiac so they wouldn’t be under their power. We watch for signs, omens, and are keenly aware of negative influences certain environments/beings have on humanity. Hunter S. Thompson captured the view quite well in “The Rum Diary:” “He talked about luck and fate and numbers coming up, yet he never ventured a nickel at the casinos because he knew the house had all the percentages. And beneath his pessimism, his bleak conviction that all the machinery was rigged against him, at the bottom of his soul was a faith that he was going to outwit it, that by carefully watching the signs he was going to know when to dodge and be spared. It was fatalism with a loophole, and all you had to do to make it work was never miss a sign. Survival by coordination, as it were. The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but to those who can see it coming and jump aside. Like a frog evading a shillelagh in a midnight marsh.” There is a strain of nihilism present here. Evil, in the sense of beings that gain sustenance from human suffering, is not some grand mistake but part of the program. There is no kind and loving father-figure constantly being outwitted by some wily devil. The world as we see it is less of an accident or a fallen paradise and more of a pressure chamber designed to enact change and growth in the individual soul for purposes perhaps too terrible to mention here. Better for now to reflect on what it IS rather than what it MEANS: "Our world (and perhaps even others) is the synthesis of the constant flux between the urge to create and destroy, between yes and no, between life and death and the intelligences behind them. Blessings and Curses, Struggle and Rest, Love and Hate, Life and Death, these things are revealed not to be mere abstractions but currents through which the spirits and gods themselves manifest. The material world, far from being a mere 'ladder to higher realms' reveals itself to be a melting pot of forces, drives, and desires; a battleground between infinite variations of intelligent influences and resonances. Behind consensus reality lies, in the words of Nietzsche, 'a chorus of natural beings who live ineradicably, as it were, behind all civilization and remain eternally the same, despite the changes of generations and of the history of nations.'"(http://bit.ly/2sO60mZ) The Occultist then rebels against the natural order, rebels against her place on the totem pole in the Spiritual Ecology. She meets with strange things in the darkness, and by threats or coos she enters a relationship with spirits Stirner would have called a Union of Egoists. Both benefit, both get paid, an exchange of equals or at least beings with a shared interest. Polytheists may worship the gods, we personally prefer to cut deals with them. The Occultist desires to elevate themselves, and as such often comes into direct collision with the hierarchical world of the State and Capitalism. The Occult seems to have split into two veins: the ceremonial magic with fancy wands and other horseshit so loved by royalty and the rude yet powerful tradition of folk magic. There, with scraps and simple tools, conjurers called the very forces of creation to manifest new and better lives for themselves or others. This vein of magic is where I make my home, specifically in the The African-American and Southern tradition of Hoodoo. It is replete with spells on how to avoid the police, how to bend your boss to your will, and even how sex-workers can chase out unruly Johns. It is poor people getting ahead and proving the “laws” of caste, gender, or race are merely spooks haunting the heads of others; class warfare on a metaphysical level. Now, as more Occultists face the dystopian nightmare-realm we call “the future,” they are beginning to embrace this political nature. My book “Curse Your Boss, Hex the State, Take Back the World,”(http://bit.ly/2rUyqdB) is perhaps the first to explicitly make this case and take it much further: “You Occultists, you Witches, you Wizards and Conjurers! Do you not desire to be free? To cast off the chains of limitation and break out from this most wretched of prisons? Do you desire to no longer be tools but something greater? How can you exist, how can you stand to know that what makes you marvel and wonder is only half-formed within you? You have done well in a one-legged race: now is the time to put on both shoes. Max Stirner said, 'Whoever will be free must make himself free. Freedom is no fairy gift to fall into a man's lap.' Do you want your magical nature, perhaps a part of you that you hold so dear, to be sublimated into the mold of Good Citizen or Good Worker? Do want to sacrifice your life, your dreams, and your passions any longer to the idea of the people and new gods above you? How much longer will you submit to their power? As the visionary group For Ourselves wrote in ‘The Right to be Greedy’: 'We are on the verge of liberation only when it can be said of each of us that he/she has become so rebellious, so irrepressible, and so unruly that she/he cannot be mastered by anything less than his/her self.' To be free we must take a hammer to the icons of the false gods, we must destroy Capitalism, State, and Society, along with all the focus-grouped illusions and morality given to us by the Media. We must divest them of all power, all sacredness, until they mean nothing to us. We must not only burn down each cobweb left by them in our minds, but cleanse ourselves from whatever negativity these plague-ridden spirits have brought into our lives. We must offer nothing but derisive laughter to the pimps and priests of this pantheon that enslaves us. Nothing should remain unwounded from our own sharp scalpel of criticism, every 'ought,' 'should,' 'must,' 'need to,' and 'duty' must be ruthlessly analyzed. If we find it implanted within us, rather than arising from our own will, we must cast it out like the infection it is. Only by divesting these gods and spooks of all psychical power, all worship, can we begin to see them for what they truly are. With the Web of Ideology in flames and the Ideological Telescope smashed to pieces, we release that power, that energy back into ourselves to be used freely as we see fit. Abandon this Spectral Cage to the petty pimps, the power hungry and the puerile peons that build it brick by brick in service to ever rotating masters. Our future lies elsewhere.”(http://bit.ly/2rUyqdB) It might be said then that the Occult is the science of bending reality to the Will, or at least enlisting intelligences that can do so for you. We have found the reality where we are owned by the State, made a commodity by Capital, and raised to be a drone by Society inimical to our spirits.. And so we must destroy them.

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