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wonderland-productions-blog · 9 months

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Knight in Dulled Armor Ch. 7

Chapter 7: Hazardous Housekeeping

Sleep wasn’t easy, a lingering feeling of unease compressing my chest. I wonder why Val had been so cold to me, had I done something wrong? He said he would be heading north tomorrow. This could mean Braiewood, Mercester, or even Asteria, for all I knew. I could have asked, but I never wanted to pry into Val’s business much. I wouldn’t even know how long he would be gone. It seems I never know exactly when I’ll see him next.

I continue to struggle with sleep throughout the night, even despite my sore, exhausted body. A wave of pain jolts through my legs as I shift on the bed, and a weight now pressed over me. No matter how tired I was, I couldn’t sleep. No matter how far I’d walked, no matter how sore my body ached, something still refused my body rest.

I decide to change into more comfortable clothes, a now laborious task only for an attempt at rest. I pick out a basic black slip I’d found in my wardrobe, tossing it on the bed as I stripped off my dirt-smeared and sweat-stained clothes. The moment my garments fall to the floor I am hit with an intense stench. This was, undoubtedly, me. The thought of Val being able to smell my odor crosses my mind, with this being a strong contender for his cold demeanor toward me recently.

Perhaps a hot bath could prove to be a good solution, as it would ease my muscle pain and provide me with some relief from my insomnia as well as my obvious stench. I reach for the slip I’d left on my bed, hesitating for a moment. I shouldn’t need to wash it if I only wear it for a moment out to the bathhouse. I shrug, finally grabbing it. I slip it on and put my dirty clothes into a pile off to the side of my wardrobe.

I take a pair of shoes, holding them by the back of the heels, not putting them on just yet. Peaking outside my door, I check for any chance of patrons still out in the dead of night. Unsurprisingly, it seems that everyone has retired for tonight. I spot Kyzu still lying in front of the bar, even in the dim lighting.

I shut my door behind me after heading out, walking toward Kyzu who had been sleeping across the room in front of my door. Only a couple of lamps still remained lit, each of them close to going out. Practically a premonition, a gust of wind through an open shutter manages to extinguish the flame. I let out a sigh that only managed to carry a fraction of my frustration and disappointment.

I continue my steps with a newfound sense of caution. Kyzu lies only a few steps away from the door, with her bulky body lying between the exit and the bar. I’d need to pace my steps carefully, heading slightly left and forward enough to avoid tripping over Kyzu. I keep a steady pace while attempting to watch my footing in a room almost completely permeated by darkness. I’m fairly sure I’d walked fully past her since I no longer felt any fur grazing my feet as I felt around the floor. I take another step; in the clear. A breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding rolls out of my mouth.

I go for another step, this time apparently far too fast, since whatever I’d hit sent a rush of pain down my foot. A grating sound fills the air, almost resembling that of metal being scraped. I trip, falling to the floor, and my shoes as well as something else scatter across the dark flooring.

I get up, ignoring the pain shooting through my arm from my landing to grab a white strip of parchment barely visible on the countertop. I light it from the dwindling flame in the lamp, holding it toward the floor. As the fire continues to envelop the makeshift kindling, the flame and light grow brighter. I see Kyzu still, but nothing that could have been the cause of my pain.

This was until something across the floor had caught a reflection of some of the light in my hand. I head over to it, picking the object up. A large, black, shiny mass bent and limply shifted in my hands. I soon recognized it as one of Val’s gloves.

Utter confusion hits me, lingering as I search around for anything else to go off of. Tucked away in the booth just outside my room was an area of darkness that still resided. I come over, deciding to relight the lamps and sconces lining the walls along the path on the way. I shake away the flame, now nearly down to my fingers. As more light grew in the room, I soon recognized this lingering darkness as Val. He had been asleep at a booth, his head tucked in his arms on the table.

I examine the rest of his armor, which had been fully intact. I reach closer, attempting to see if he even slept with his helm on. I gaze into the space where he’d buried his head between his arms. Smudged golden reflections danced around in the armor that now barely retained any luster. This was apparently too close, as Val let out a gruff noise indicating his wake.

Attempting to remain collected, I ask him, “Val, what are you still doing in the dining area?” I glance around when a white glimmer catches my eye; there are several empty glasses scattered across the table. Some stood upright in stacks, some knocked over in disarray. Some for whiskey, some for beer.

I choose to pry for once, “Val, are you drunk?”

This must have been the first thing he heard, as he shot up upon it leaving my lips, “Elaine?”

“Yes, it’s me,” I respond with a sigh, him now turning to look at me.

He looks me up and down, the only indicator being the movement of his helm, if I hadn’t been so close, I wouldn’t have known. “What are you doin’ out here?” Val asks, slurring his words slightly, seemingly concerned.

“I just asked you the same thing, I’m going out for a bath.” At this point, I realize I still held his glove in my hand. I pass it over to him, though he just stares at it for a moment.

“Thank you for letting me know,” He chuckles. Val mutters something under his breath, though it is difficult to make out. I’m fairly sure I caught, “nightgown,” in the mumbled statement, though I couldn’t be certain.

I can only assume the prior remark was a call back to our interaction in the bathhouse. Why must he relish such conversations? A heat floods my cheeks, and I once again find nothing to say around him. I shake my head, opening my mouth to speak, though I am cut off.

“I know a hot spring somewhat close, we could take my horse.” He offers, quickly pressing on, “I know you must be sore from your trip to Braiewood,”

“Don’t you have to leave tomorrow morning? At this point, it’ll be sunrise in just a few hours.” I explain though I don’t want to come across as rude. “Another time, when our schedules align better, I could even take time off work for it.” I let out.

He pauses for a moment, presumably shocked by my response, “That's true, another time then. I should be back from my trip northeast in about a week. We could work it out around then,”

I nod, continuing out to the bathhouse. He hadn’t seemed entirely drunk, which was surprising considering the amount of glasses he had on his table. I suppose this was due to his sheer size. I’ll have to hold him to his offer, even if it is just to see if he remembers our conversation later.

Something clicks within me, wondering if Val just had asked me on a date. He didn’t seem to be flirting with me at all by his tone. Then again, I can’t help but feel that seeing his expressions would make this a bit easier. The outlandish concept of accompanying a man with a hidden face to a hot spring weighs on me for a moment. I suppose he just wanted to get to know me better, he took an opportunity to invite me somewhere he knew I’d like, and that was very sweet of him. I shrug, looking up after a chilly breeze hits me to find that I’ve walked onto the porch.

There should be a lantern I could take to the bathhouse out here, I recall. Heading to my right, I walk until my hand meets the porch fence and drag it along until I feel the wooden porch column. Running my hand upward, I stop when I feel my fingers graze a cold, metal surface. I was sure this was the base of the lantern, and I continue upward until I grasp the handle. Once lit, I make my way to the bathhouse, following the footpath just off the tavern porch.

Making sure I was on the women’s side, I step in. I inspect the stalls, finding which would be the cleanest. One toward the end of the room that remains untouched. A folded set of towels was placed off to the side of the dry bath. I see soap off to the other side of the bath, reminding me that I’d forgotten the hair products I’d brought back from Braiewood. I let out a sigh, planning my next move.

I’d need to go back inside if I wanted to wash my hair, which was definitely a priority while I was bathing, but I’d need to see Val again inside. I could begin running my bath with the hose outside, then I’d head inside to grab my things. A breath leaves me while I push open the heavy bathhouse door.

Quickly grabbing the hose wrapped around the neck of the spigot, I make my way back in. Propping the door open with a folded towel, I lead the hose to my bathtub and set it inside. I see it quickly begin filling, the shining water creating gentle waves as the hose fills it up further. A tiny bit of steam rolls into the cold night air.

I return inside the tavern, and to my surprise, Val is gone. He must have made his way to his room after I’d initially woken him up. As well as Val being gone, so were the glasses that had been scattered about the table. It looks as if they’d been washed and put back onto their drying rack. A “Huh,” escapes me as I stand impressed by Val’s ability to clean up after himself. My mind is tugged back to him sweeping once again, pulling my lips to a smile.

I grab my things that had been tucked away in my room, remembering to grab my shoes on the way out this time. I begin tracing the path back to the bathhouse, feeling the cool, soft sand that had been worn away by foot traffic under my feet. I twist the hose handle closed on the way out, sure that my bath was full enough inside.

I set my hair cleansers off to the side of my bath and test the water temperature with my fingers; perfectly hot. I sink into the tub, feeling my body immediately release the tension it had been holding onto. I linger in the water for a few moments, allowing myself to rest in the hot, steamy bath. My body sinks in further, eventually tipping my head back into the water.

My hair slicks back into a much longer, straight, wet pelt. I attempt to run my fingers through the condensed locks, though after tugging through the initial few knots, I give up. I’d have to brush it out as it dries or in the morning.

I make quick time washing my hair and body, letting the suds that had accumulated on my body slowly glide off as the bath water laps over me. A soft breath presses out of my lips, and I rinse myself one final time before grabbing my towel.

I stand up, allowing water to drip and strain itself off my body for a minute or so. Wrapping the towel around my body, I perch myself on the edge of the tub to dry my legs. Once fully dry, I debate whether I want to dump my tub now. My shoulders shrug as I decide that I’ll likely be the one to clean the bathhouse tomorrow anyway. My black slip fits nicely as I slide it back on, feeling light and breathable after my bath. Finally, I tie a towel around my hair to help it dry.

Slipping on my shoes, I take the towels I’d used and sit them in a small pile in the corner for me to add to the laundry tomorrow. I retrieve what I’d taken in with me, doing one final check as I head out of my stall. My feet trail along the smooth tile slowly, admittedly uneasy on partially slick flooring.

Whether my caution played a role in my ability to catch myself or not, I’m unsure, but I certainly managed to fix my balance somehow. I glance back, curious as to what could have tripped me. The only noticeable thing that could have done so was a small uneven area set into the floor. Upon closer inspection, it was a small metallic drain in the lightly sloped ground.

A hand raises to my mouth as I realize there was no reason to dump the full baths outside as I’d thought. I’d missed an obvious feature in the bathhouse, and paid for such an embarrassing mistake in excess labor. I sigh and press on, making note of the drain. Opening the door serves as what I hope to be the last difficult task of my day.

Urging my way out of the bathhouse, I trail back to the tavern. I step inside, quickly cutting across the dining area to my room in the dim light. The door handle clicks shut behind me, and I let out a breath as I lean my weight against my door. A couple of steps further, I empty my hands and organize my things in one of my drawers.

My hands find their way to my lower back, firmly planting themselves and cupping my hips. I bend back, hearing pops emanate from my spine and feeling my body loosen the further I go. I retrieve a hairband before sitting down on my bed. I nestle in further, tugging my blanket over me.

I am awoken by the early morning light seeping through my thin blankets. I was sure it was only hours after I’d fallen asleep, but I felt well-rested. It was time to prepare for another day at work.

Running through the morning routine I’ve made for myself, getting around felt easier today. I attempt to recall my morning routine back at my family estate, though my memory betrays me after a sudden shift in lifestyle. All I truly knew is that these fragments of my life are worlds apart from one another. I cut off the sentiment as I pull the ribbon pressed between my lips to tie up my hair.

I wipe my hands down my uniform, straightening out any wrinkles left after I’d put it on. I slip on my shoes I’d left beside the door, and fling my door open to step out into the tavern.

“Good morning, Kenrik,” I gleam as I reclaim my notepad and a few fresh wash rags near the bar.

“Mornin’,” he says, taking a moment to focus his attention on me. After a pause, he continues, “Before you head off to tables, I think you’re ready to learn room housekeeping. Right?”

It takes me a moment to process after he’d caught me off guard, I muster an enthusiastic nod before setting my hands behind my back.

I wait for a moment while Kenrik returns a slow nod. “Marietta should-” he starts, but is cut off as the tavern doors creak open behind me.

“Perfect timing!” he declares, and I turn to see Marietta arriving at work. Her appearance was polished, as usual. Her uniform is completely clean and creaseless, and her hair had been worked into a thin braid to keep it out of her face.

“Could you walk Elaine through room housekeeping?” Kenrik asks, scooting a bit closer to Marietta.

“Of course!” She says, turning to me.

“Wonderful, here’s the rooms that have checked out recently,” he tells her as he drops a keyring into her palm.

She gives him a nod and gestures a hand for me to follow her across the dining area. Tucked away just past the storage room was a thin hall that offered only a left turn at its end. This led to another wider hall, with doors lined all down one side. I was unaware of the second row of rooms behind my own, but it explained how the tavern could get so busy without much foot traffic.

“Morning, Marietta,” I chirp, still heading down the hall behind her. “Good morning,” she offers, her hands preoccupied flicking through the numbered keys. We stop in front of the farthest door down, and Marietta slides the key in, jiggling it a bit before she’s able to fully unlock the knob.

She presses open the door to reveal a room arranged far differently than my own. Two individual beds pressed against the walls with a spacious wardrobe against the back wall between them. The room hadn’t been in total disarray but was obviously lived in. She makes her way over to one of the beds and begins stripping off its crumpled sheets and blankets. I make myself useful and do the same with the other bed across the room.

“I’m glad Kenrik decided that I train you on housekeeping today; otherwise I would be cleaning the bathhouse now,” She says, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, don’t care for the bathhouse much?” I ask, my voice higher than intended. My mind suppresses the memory of Val in the bathhouse, let alone around Marietta.

“I’m afraid not. It always takes far too long. I become so absorbed that I often can’t finish both sides on the same day.” She expresses, her distaste for the task is prevalent in her tone alone. Her expression shifts, “Oh! I’ve got the next couple of days off! I took them off for time with some old friends,” she reveals to me.

“I’m happy I could help you out of cleaning the bathhouse then! And I hope catching up goes well, are you meeting anywhere specific?” I ask.

“They actually suggested a beautiful little resort called Fleurence. I’ve never been, but they’re ecstatic to show me, and my family in Aramoor has raved over it.” She gushes to me.

My ears perk up to this, hearing that Marietta was from Aramoor. It was a neighboring nation to Asteria, it seems she and I are both far from home. “It sounds familiar, I believe my family has trade deals with them,” I say, “It sounds exciting, I hope you have a great time,” I enthuse.

“If I’m being honest I prefer the more private tasks like this over ones with customers,” I add on after a pause. It was nice to be able to speak uninterrupted with her.

“It’s more peaceful, but I like most of the folks here,” she says, a certain inflection in her voice from her smile. “Can’t forget about tips too, that’s definitely a benefit,” She laughs out.

Each of us holding a large lump of linen in our arms, she nods and heads out of the room. I quickly follow behind, assuming she’d be dropping them off in the storage room in the laundry bins. My speculation is proven correct as we round the halls and make our way into the open entryway to the storage room.

“I can’t bother to flirt with the drunken patrons, though I’m as nice as I can be to them,” I admit.

“Maybe you’ll get used to it,” she implies.

For a moment I consider it, though it doesn’t sit well with me. “I don’t want to get involved with half the men at the tavern,” I scoff out.

“Don’t I know it; the men who wanna talk to you are always 3 drinks in and the ones you wanna talk to are gone before you know it,” she tells me.

For a moment I wonder what men she is referring to in her latter remark, but it is easily answered after a moment. “Marietta? Struggling with men? Now there’s an absurd concept,” I laugh, my sarcasm thinly veiled.

We dump our dirty linen in one of the tall cloth bins and each grab a fresh bedspread to replace it. Marietta also retrieves a small basket filled with various cleaning materials, setting it on top of the folded sheets to carry them out.

“To be fair, I don’t think the tavern is the best place to find someone,” I chuckle, attempting to breathe life back into the conversation.

“I know, but there’s the occasional romantic,” she sighs as we continue down the hall once more.

“Oh? Have I not been here long enough to stumble across any ruggedly handsome adventurers?” I tease, “What a shame,” I finish as I fling a sheet over the bed. Air catches the cloth, dragging it down as it rolls and waves before spreading evenly over the mattress.

I hear Marietta let out a scoff and we each fall silent for a moment as we work. “What do you mean? I know you’ve seen at least one,” she hints.

Wedging my fingers between the bed and the wall, I finish tucking the covers in as I process her words. My mind drifts back to my interaction with Val last night, an exhilarating flurry of my hammering heart and tightening stomach. Unfortunately, I am almost sure this is who Marietta is referencing. I glance back at her, saying nothing.

She takes a moment to grab some things from the supply basket before turning toward me. Her gaze meets mine, and we hold it for a moment. I cock my head, shooting her a look of slight confusion. I bite at my bottom lip to fight a smirk that arises from her cheeks flushing.

Her eyes dart around for a moment, landing on one of her hands. She juts it upward, offering me a washrag. “Will you wipe down the end tables and whatnot? I’ll dust in here, but you’ll have to do it in the other rooms,” she explains.

I grab the cloth from her hand, giving her a nod before wiping down tables and furniture. My pace slows to a halt as a shadow falls over me. My eyes trace back to its source, which is Marietta now on a stepstool to dust the top of the dark wooden wardrobe.

I finish the last surface I need to clean and pull my attention back to Marietta after she sets the stool aside. She offers me the broom, and I begin sweeping as she focuses her attention on the waste bin.

“If you’re having so many troubles with men, why not go with the obvious choice?” I ask, garnering a minuscule pile of dust and various debris in front of me.

“Ugh,” she lets out, “By ‘obvious’ I assume you mean Hidorah?”.

I shrug my shoulders and am unable to fully mask a smile.

“He’s too immature for me,” she explains, hoisting her shoulders for a shrug and letting them sink. Her arms find their way around each other at her chest. She turns her head, and I see her eyes lock with something. She retrieves the dustpan, setting it in front of my finished pile.

I wait for more, but nothing arises. “That’s all?” I pry, careful to sweep everything into the dustpan.

“It’s a bigger issue than you’d think,” is all she says as she disposes of the waste. We take a look around to ensure we hadn’t missed anything.

“Is that everything?” I ask.

“Think you can handle all that a few more times?” Marietta asks.

“Absolutely,” I say, giving her a small wave.

She turns my palm and takes the room key in her own. She presses the keyring into my hand and flashes a smile. “Kenrik will have me taking orders and should have someone else in the bathhouse.” she informs me, “Have fun!” She declares with an unshakable sense of optimism. I linger outside the room for a moment as she makes her way back out to the dining area, the shifts and clicking of the door lock replaying in my mind.

A strange excitement flutters inside my stomach as I have time to myself at work. I shift through the keyring in my hand, clinking them together as I search for the closest door down the hall. This was two doors down, and I shimmy the key into the lock. It comes open with little interference and I could see that this room only had one bed, but a large one at that. I enter, closing the door behind me after grabbing my supply basket.

Once again I find the bed sheets a crumpled mass of fabric on the mattress. I toss the pillowcases into the linen lump and make my way back down to the supply room with it in tow. I add it to the fabric before it and note that one of the laundry hampers is nearly full; it will need to be washed and hung to dry soon. I believe I’ve seen a clothesline tucked out back, though I can’t be sure. My business concluded in the storage room, for now, I grab a replacement bedspread and decide to push on to the next task.

It takes finishing up the new bedspread and getting partially through dusting before I feel confident enough to allow my mind to drift off. Snippets of today’s interactions root their way into my train of thought, and they guide themselves from there. My mind touches on my plans for later today; what I’d have for lunch, things to do in my free time, etcetera.

A sudden, fuzzy feeling splits my forehead as my mind shifts back into focus. I find myself vacantly staring at the now useless dirtied rag in my hand as I’d finished touching up the room. Looking around, the chamber was in pristine condition. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to give my own quarters the same treatment, though it might have to wait until after my shift. Gathering my cleaning supplies in their basket, I leave the room, locking it behind me and tucking the key into my apron pocket.

Fetching the keyring from my pocket, only two dull silver keys remained. Luckily, as I paced down the hall, I glanced up just in time to see the matching numbers etched in both the door and key. This is the final room down the hall, so the last will correlate to a room down from my own.

Admittedly, I’m grateful that it seems to be going faster the more I work; though I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll be drained after work tonight. I pause for a moment to stretch after feeling a growing tension in my back. I press a few cracks out from my spine, letting a breath roll out from my lips as the pressure in my body melts away.

Working through the routine I’d been shown proves effective enough until stumbling across something while sweeping. As I pulled the angled broom underneath the bed a hefty weight drags its way along the floor. I continue pulling, finding it to be a thick metal pendant now covered in a sheer layer of dust. I initially attempt to scoop it up with my finger to avoid any strange residue it may leave, but its dense, unexpected weight forces the use of my whole hand.

After a quick cleaning, it was revealed to be a curled horn of some kind, just smaller than the length of my hand. This seems familiar, but I can’t name why now. It was fixed to a blackened chain, long enough to hang much farther down my frame than intended I’m sure. A small squeeze shifts the pendant in my palm, though to my surprise in a few places. For a moment I am paralyzed, plagued with the fear that I’d just broken a guest’s pendant.

I open my trembling hand with great hesitation, my heart skipping a beat when finally assuring that it is still in one piece. Though, there is a thin, dark line around the base of the horn. Upon closer inspection, this is a small pocket dug within the necklace. That’s why this is familiar! This was usually an orc custom, many leading figures in orc clans hold important symbols of strength or value in jewelery. The horn itself being the container may be an homage to a certain deity, though I was rusty on foreign religion.

My hand lingers on the horn for a moment, curious if it is wrong to take a peek inside. I see no harm in it, and I have plans to turn it into Kenrik. Perhaps the tavern had a lost and found system with so many recurring guests. Having convinced myself, I take a look around the room before focusing my close gaze on the pendant.

Inside, I see nothing but a small white bead at the bottom of the cavity. The only option I could reason was a pearl; though some part of me clearly wanted a more concise answer. I tipped the pendant to my hand, feeling whatever the prestigious necklace held bounce into my palm. There could not have been a more instantaneous, guttural reaction as I saw a tooth roll its way between my fingertips. I force it back into the container before my body sways over to the disposal bin. There I spent a quick break dry heaving to steady my nerves.

I suppose this serves as a good reason not to be curious; though it was only the latest in a long line of things that should have taught me before this point in my life. I wipe a bead of sweat off my brow and retrieve the necklace I’d tossed onto the bed in a rush. With the strange memento safe, I keep it tucked away in my apron pocket.

Beyond this, the room is easy to finish cleaning, with no other hiccups in the process. After locking up, I slide one more key into my apron pocket. One room left. The last is actually the room beside mine, so until the next guest fills it, I’ll have guaranteed quiet nights.

Walking into my neighboring room was an odd experience since their layouts were identical, yet there were subtle enough differences in furniture and decor for it to be strangely unsettling. The curtains are just slightly lighter, the wardrobe carved from different wood, and the bedding barely too thick. All these things and more I noticed as I scrubbed, swept, and sterilized the space.

Dragging my fourth hefty load of sheets to the storage room, I finally topped off the large linen bin. Once I am done cleaning this last room, I’ll be doing the laundry from my entire shift thus far. I knew this, and while not an unbearable thought, still caused my stomach to tie in knots. Knowing I only needed a break, it was even more exhausting with how much I hate asking Kenrik for time to myself.

I head back to the quarters now only down the hall from the storage room, having little to do before my inevitable trip back for laundry. This made work a bit more discouraging with the tedious aspects now dominating many of its redeeming qualities but I push through regardless. Finally, I can lock up the last room, and I slide the remaining key into my pocket with the empty keyring. I head back to Kenrik; passing over practically everything in my pockets from keys to necklaces. He thanks me for my work and returns his focus to patrons at the bar.

I begin my trek back to the storage room, debating if I could take a few minutes to sit and decompress alone. While not exactly spacious, it at least offers a cozy, dim setting. Once you’re over the permanent, faint smell of dust, anyway. I take a seat on a stool I’d set up moments prior. My folded arms settle over my knees, and my breathing slows as I try to relax.

This doesn’t last long, however. Soon a ray of light shines over half my face accompanied by the creaking door. It was Hidorah. I watch his eyes scan the room for a few moments before locking onto my frame sitting hunched behind various containers and supplies. He moves a couple of brooms and mops in front of me over against the wall, as well as kicks away a large box obscuring his view of me.

“Hey, ready for lunch? I already made yours so you better be,” He laughs, not offering any other option. Not that I minded; I was hungry and a bit drained. “Absolutely, thank you,” I tell him. He juts his hand out to me, refusing to make eye contact as he offered me help up. I take it, with Hidorah doing most of the work as he unexpectedly pulls me toward him. I stumble, with our shoulders colliding before I regain my footing. We dust ourselves off and I follow close behind him until we reach the bar.

Hidorah takes a seat and gestures to a stool between him and Marietta, though I delay; instead focusing on pouring drinks. I gather each of their requests and slide their glasses across the bar. I sit down between my coworkers with a plate ready for me on the countertop. I’d poured myself a tall drink of water, half of which I’d already drank to quench my thirst.

“So, how’s housekeeping been?” Marietta asks before taking a bite of her food.

“Well, it-” I am cut off by an abrupt crash from behind us. All of us spin our stools to see what the commotion is. Initially, I see nothing suspicious in the dining hall. I glance around the room, following all the patrons' eyes in the same general direction. Everyone seemed to be fixated on a door a couple down from my own; most likely awaiting another sound just as I am. Even Kenrik took a moment to stop what he was doing to survey the door.

A few people in the crowd dismiss it, returning back to their meals or chatting with companions after a while of silence. I keep my focus on the door for longer than most, but my patience rewards me. Another sound erupts from beyond the door, and something clatters to the ground inside.

Kenrik and Hidorah exchange a look with one another and without any words spoken Hidorah heads behind the bar. I see him walk off in the direction of the room with something clutched behind his back.

I turn to Marietta, “What’s going on?” I ask.

“I’m not sure yet, we’ll just have to see,” she tells me.

I throw my hands up, unsure how else to express my immense confusion. I look to Kenrik for answers, though he only offers a shrug. My attention is drawn over to Hidorah as he rapped on the door with a long, blunt rod. After a moment the door opens a crack, though I can’t see anything past Hidorah. The door is slammed shut, with Hidorah now needing to force his body weight against the door to get it open.

Within a mere moment, Hidorah had slipped inside the door and was now in a room with an agitated guest at best. My stomach tightens as fear roots its way deep into my gut. I await any hints as to what may be transpiring within the room, desperate to ensure my friend’s safety. I turn to Marietta, only thinly vailing my worry, I’m sure.

“He’ll be okay, I’m sure of it,” she tells me. Her attempts to soothe me were at least somewhat effective, I’ll admit. She knew him better than I did and maybe was more familiar with this situation. Still, I wait with bated breath.

After taking a couple of sips of my water and my eyes still locked onto the door, Hidorah returns. The door was thrown open, with Hidorah exiting the patron’s quarters backward. He turns to reveal a man in his grasp. Hidorah had the guest’s arms locked behind his own back, and was making great strides to the tavern exit.

The man’s face is drenched in sweat as he still fights to escape, though his efforts are easily staved off by Hidorah. The man appeared completely exhausted; his chest heaving and his face crimson. As a final attempt, he kicks his legs out from beneath him, forcing Hidorah to drag him out. Hidorah returns to the tavern dusting his hands off and once again meeting us at the bar.

“What was all that?” I ask, trying to shake some answers from Hidorah. He shoots me a glance as he passes the weapon back to Kenrik. Everyone around me exchanges a look, saying nothing. Hidorah’s eyes lock with mine as he digs around in one of his pockets. He fishes something out, concealing it in his palm before sliding a small mesh pouch across the counter.

I reach for the bag, wondering if it could hold any answers to what occurred. Before I can secure it, Kenrik takes it for himself offering only a “Hold on,”. He pulls out a few minuscule oval objects that sit flat on the countertop. They are mostly white with splotches of various colors spaced out.

“Flower petals?” I ask, wondering how this could tie into the patron’s fit at all.

“Not exactly,” Kenrik alludes.

“So…?” I say, at a loss for words.

Kenrik drags a hand down his face and lets out a sigh, apparently not ecstatic to explain what is going on. Hidorah gestures to me and opens his mouth to speak. For a moment, I foolishly believed I would get a clear answer; though a wrinkled, sunspotted hand is clasped over his mouth in an instant. Kenrik whips his hand back, frantically wiping it down his clothes with an, “Ugh,” rolling out of his mouth.

“He licked my hand,” he says, his disgust apparent. “Alright, well. I’d rather explain than Hidorah,” Kenrik says.

Hidorah suppresses a laugh and there is silence for a moment. “These are flower petals, but they’re dangerous in certain situations,” he calmly explains.

“They have medicinal properties in small amounts, but anything beyond that…” Marietta chimes in.

“Then it has adverse effects on people; fits of anger, erratic movement, lots of different things,” Kenrik sighs. “I can’t have people like that in the tavern, it’s a hazard to everyone here,”

“I see…” I breathe. Not wanting to press much further, I push the conversation to its end. “He won’t be any trouble anymore, right?”

“Oh, no. After a while their head clears and they usually apologize. Hard to tell what’s an accident and what’s not until they get caught a few times,” He explains.

“Then I assume you ban them from the tavern?” I say.

“Absolutely right,” he tells me.

I glance back at my friends, who had finished most of their meals. I look down at my plate, which had barely been picked off of. Despite my attempt to finish my food, the majority of my appetite has been suppressed. With my glass and plate scrubbed clean, I return to work after saying goodbye to both Marietta and Hidorah.

0 notes

badjokesbyjeff · 5 years

Text

A politician dies...

And ends up standing in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter looks at him for a second, flicks through his book, and finds his name.

"So, you're a politician..." "Well, yes, is that a problem?" "Oh no, no problem. But we've recently adopted a new system for people in your line of work, and unfortunately you will have to spend a day in Hell. After that however, you're free to choose where you want to spend eternity!"

"Wait, I have to spend a day in Hell??" says the politician. "Them's the rules" Says St Peter, clicks his fingers, and WOOMPH, the guy dissapears... And awakes, curled up with his hands over his eyes, knowing he's in Hell. Cautiously, he listens for the screams, sniffs the air for brimstone, and finds... Nothing. Just the smell of, is that fabric softener? And cut grass, this can't be right?

"Open your eyes!" says a voice. "C'mon, wakey wakey, we've only got 24 hours!". Nervously, he uncovers his eyes, looks around, and sees he's in a hotel room. A nice one too. Wait, this is a penthouse suite... And there's a smiling man in a suit, holding a martini. "Who are you??" The politician asks. "Well, I'm Satan!" says the man, handing him the drink and helping him to his feet. "Welcome to Hell!" "Wait, this is Hell? But... Where's all the pain and suffering?" he asks. Satan throws him a wink. "Oh, we've been a bit mis-represented over the years, it's a long story. Anyway, this is your room! The minibar is of course free, as is the room service, there's extra towels next to the hot-tub, and if you need anything, just call reception. But enough of this! It's a beautiful day, and if you'd care to look outside..." Slightly stunned by the opulent surroundings, the man wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows through which the sun is glowing, looks far down, and sees a group of people cheering and waving at him from a golf course. "It's one of 5 pro-level courses on site, and there's another 6 just a few minutes drive out past the beach and harbour!" says Satan, answering his unasked question. So they head down in the lift, walk out through the glittering lobby where everyone waves and welcomes the man, as Satan signs autographs and cherrily talks shop with the laughing staff. And as he walks out, he sees the group on the golf course are made up of every one of his old friends, people he's admired for years but never met or worked with, and people whose work he's admired but died long before his career started. And out of the middle of this group walks his wife, with a massive smile and the body she had when she was 20, who throws her arms around him and plants a delicate kiss on his cheek. Everyone cheers and applauds, and as they slap him on the back and trade jokes, his worst enemy arrives, as a 2 foot tall goblin-esque caddy. He spends the day in the bright sunshine on the course, having the time of his life laughing at jokes and carrying important discussions, putting the world to rights with his friends while holding his delighted wife next to him as she gazes lovingly at him. Later, they return to the hotel for dinner and have an enormous meal, perfectly cooked, which descends into a food-fight when someone accidentally throws a bread roll at the next table (where Ghandi is having a game of truth-or-dare with Marylin Monroe). As everyone is falling about laughing and flinging breadsticks at each other, his wife whispers in his ear... And they return to their penthouse suite, and spend the rest of the night making love like they did on their honeymoon. After 6 hours of intense passion, the man falls deep into the 100% Egyptian cotton pillows, and falls into a deep and happy sleep... And is woken up by St Peter. "So, that was Hell. Wasn't what you were expecting, I bet?" "No sir!" says the man. "So then" says St Peter "you can make your choice. It's Hell, which you saw, or Heaven, which has choral singing, talking to God, white robes, and so on". "Well... I know this sounds strange, but on balance, I think I'd prefer Hell" says the politician. "Not a problem, we totally understand! Enjoy!" Says St Peter, and clicks his fingers again.

The man wakes up in total darkness, the stench of ammonia filling the air and distant screams the only noise. As he adjusts, he can see the only light is from belches of flame far away, illuminating the ragged remains of people being tortured or burning in a sulphurous ocean. A sudden bolt of lightning reveals Satan next to him, wearing the same suit as before and grinning, holding a soldering iron in one hand and a coil of razor-wire in the other. "What's this??" He cries. "Where's the hotel?? Where's my wife??? Where's the minibar, the golf-courses, the pool, the restaurant, the free drinks and the sunshine???"

"Ah", says Satan. "You see, yesterday, we were campaigning. But today, you voted..."

#funny #humor #jokes #lol #comedy

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infitsovermisfits · 2 years

Text

Volatile P1: Meeting an Old Friend

info: "It's been years since Silco, Vander and (Y/N) split up. When Silco searches for his old friend again, asking them to help him teach a child he had recently taken in their 'explosive' craft, their feelings for him are reignited. The question remains if he burns for them just as bright as they do."

i also made a seperate blog (<<click) for my silco fic :p

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

possibly will have more parts? I'll try my best i just wanted to write for him so much he's been on my mind all day ;-;

WARNINGS: gender-neutral reader, mentions of pain, violence, murder, explosions etc. Takes place roughly hours after the events of episode 3 enjoy ;)

2057 words

Another hard day at the mines left your body aching and sweating. There were times where you thought your bones and muscles would one day betray you and crumble to dust, leaving you in a broken heap from all the work you do. Trudging into the backrooms of the dingy restaurant you worked at part-time, your eyes rolled as your boss pointed out you were 'late' once again, and that's all you spoke to him in the 3 hours you worked. Finally, you were free, the usually soft grey clouds that were visible between peaks of black and brown smoke had shifted to black, the night looming overhead. Your gaze focused on the ground as you walked, not wanting to see the usual street lurkers and thieves, or the lust-filled backstreets of Zaun. All you longed for was your bed- although not the best, you at least had one. And you should be grateful for it. Miss Eclipt was doing you a huge favour renting a room so cheap with a bed in it, even if it meant she'd complain to you about how she's wasting money.

The aching in your body seemed to only intensify the more you trudged, but reminding yourself of the knowledge that you'd be sleeping soundly soon filled you with determination. Soon you made it, as usual, Miss E. greeting you and commenting on the stench of sweat that caused your clothes to cling to your skin,

"Not as bad as the fumes, Miss E," You jested tiredly, to which the small woman tsked and walked away. You headed to the communal showers, wincing and pushing the thoughts of the germs and bacteria that had built up here for a while, and undressing. You grabbed the least grimey towel, hidden away from plain sight and washed under the cold water, shivering.

Once again, you trudged up the stairs, knees, arm, back screaming in a painful unison as you slowly ascended, gripping the towel close to you. Luckily it was too late for anyone else to be up so no one would see you, but you'd surely get yelled at for all the excess water you dripped off on your way up.

Quickly drying your body, you grabbed your night clothes and slipped them on in a trance like routine, your body acting on its own amidst the pain as usual. Finally. Finally, you lay down, starfishing and sighing deeply as the stillness surrounded you, the pain making your face scrunch as you waited for it to transform into aches. Pulling on the blanket, your heavy eyes fell shut, as your mind flooded away to sleep.

It was still dark. Your hazy dream of a saturated world faded away and in place of those happy bright colours, the usual greys and blacks filled your vision. Blinking and shuffling your legs beneath the covers you felt an unusual weight. Frowning, you sat up and let out a faint gasp, your eyes springing open and breath quickening at the figure sitting at the foot of your bed.

He was there, clad in a dark coat, his head bowed and his elbows resting loosely on his thin knees turned to the side from you. The collar obscured his head slightly, so only the top of his hair was visible, and the tip of his long nose. He made no noise entering, explaining why you didn't wake sooner- you still couldn't determine if he came through the window or door: nothing looked out of place, not even his footprints seemed to disturb the layer of dust mimicking a carpet on your floor. With a sigh, his shoulders drooped, and his face finally turned to look at you.

One of his eyes appeared hooded, the other black, and glowing red in the darkness, whole and circular, the absence of an eyelid clear. In the faint light, you made out the scars slicing down this discoloured portion of his face. His lips were pulled into a frown as he observed you- his neutral facial expression.

The initial panic of another person being in your house subsided,

"Silco," You sighed in relief. Having a known murderer and dangerous man should elicit a different response. But alas,

"This is where you live," This comment, not question, was laced in his low voice, the volume barely above a hum. You stopped yourself from whispering a 'yes', and only gave a nod as you lowered the bed covers from where you clutched them protectively at first. The weight left your bed, and you listened to his silent footsteps as he explored the small space, "No kitchen," An observant comment. Once you finished rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes you pointed to a small bot full of ash, next to a kettle and pot. He walked right by them, glancing at the shelf where most of your clothes were and he stopped at the desk under your window littered with bills, receipts and other papers. Placing a hand on it revealed it wobbled back and forth, squeaking and rattling the pen and pencil. A soft grunt left his lips, his body reducing to a silhouette in front of a window, "This is barely a home," Yet another observation.

"Did Miss E. let you in?" You asked wearily, dropping your arms to your lap and squinting to be able to see him, eyes focusing on the glowing red pupil that emanated from his eye.

"I entered myself," He said, not moving,

"And to what do I owe you this visit?" You placed your chin on your hand, leaning an elbow on your head as he had done before, "After our argument years ago, I surely thought I'd never hear from any of you again. I thought you slunk into the darkness like the sewer rat you are," you told him casually. From how you squinted, you made out his frown, appearing more pronounced. He sighed,

"Savika is in a critical state. As is Singed, and most of my men and women," This perked up your attention, and you sat up in shock,

"Stars- how?" You said, moving the covers aside to reveal you wearing tattered everyday clothes, clearly frequently used, as pyjamas "What happened- how did-"

He produced something that caught the dim green light outside from his pockets. Gingerly taking it, you felt the coolness of metal against your fingers, the shape feeling slightly heavy, and being decorated with a cartoonish monkey- mouth painted red with sharp teeth and eyes glaring with angry eyebrows. The artwork of a child,

"A bomb," He said nonchalantly, moving from you to stand closer to the door, his hands moving behind his back as he locked his fingers together. Turning to see your shocked expression again, "She lost her family and-"

"Dear Stars, Silco don't tell me y-"

"I'm not entirely responsible... In fact, she is," He looked down, with what you thought could be a hint of sadness. It was difficult to tell- as was everything with Silco, "She created a powerful explosion- Sevika's arm is completely destroyed, beyond repair... Had she not jumped in front of me, likely I would have suffered that fate," He admitted with a heavy sigh, clear he felt regret, "Bodies were found in the rubble. Children. Likely her siblings. Vander-"

"You killed him?" You asked expectantly, to which his eye narrowed and he nodded,

"Vander was not the man you knew him to be," he said as he averted his gaze. His tone indicated he had rehearsed the phrase already,

"I know, Silco. He tried to kill you," You said, frowning, "And you... I understand your... Ways are unconventional, but I can't support... It's inhumane," At that his lips lifted into a small smile,

"There's a monster in all of us," Another rehearsed phrase, "You supported me once before, didn't you?" Your annoyance grew,

"Why did you come here?" You hissed now, a glare forming, "If you expect me to help you in-"

"I need you to help her," He cut you off. You fell silent again, eyes widening in shock as your head connected the dots

"You're didn't-"

"I took her in,"

"Silco that's-"

"What?" He watched you expectantly, eyebrow raised. His other, drawn on remained still, and you eyed the corrupted side of his face. You frowned, "It's what?" he asked, his voice dropping low again, judgemental,

"Is this... The best choice for her..?" You questioned him. He didn't have a response to this, allowing you to elaborate, "You taking her. Your lifestyle isn't exactly best suited for a child- she has no one else?"

"Shall I bring her to you?" You asked, bitterness seeping into his words and you found yourself cowering slightly in shame, glancing at the grey, tattered walls of your home, "Could you offer her more?"

"Safety-"

"Believe me, (Y/N), she is safer with me than she would ever be with Vander," His brother's name was spat at you, and you found yourself defeated, a sigh leaving your lips. You pressed them together, turning your attention back to the decapitated metal monkey head in your clutched palm, and tracing the now warm metal,

"You need me to train her how to make bombs?" You asked, frowning, "You'll turn her into a weapon?"

"She needs to know the dangers of her work. I'm not creating a weapon, I'm cultivating a passion" He lifted a hand to correct you, his long fingers pressed together, and your attention focused on a scar slicing into his palm, grip tightening around the monkey head in your palm, the metal touching a similar scar on your own palm "You're the only person I know who's... As inventive as she is," He said sincerely, dropping his hand and hiding it behind his back again

"I don't do that anymore," You reminded, "V- He, you and I all walked our separate ways years ago. For a reason. A good reason. And I threw that life away behind me, and-"

"And look where it landed you," He finished for you, smugly, our glare intensifying as you looked up at him, expression neutral, and yet teasing clear in his tone,

"This apartment is fine-"

"It's barely a home. It reaks of the mines. It's cold and damp. There's mould-"

"You've got a kid one day, and suddenly you're an expert on home decor Silco?" You shot back at him, His eye narrowed again, "Next time, let me ask you for advice before you barge into my home and complain,"

"I'm offering you a better life. For a favour. A simple one at that. Help her," He said lowly, and then shocked you, "Please," You had to admit, it may be the first time you ever heard him utter the word. You didn't even think it was part of his vocabulary. He was clearly passionate and in need of help. And damn your kind heart for empathising with the poor girl.

Losing family was something you were, unfortunately, familiar with, as was Silco and Vander. The three of you met in the Lanes, and formed a bond you had hoped was unbreakable. Now one of you was dead. The other, the killer and you... The one in the middle.

"Fine," You sighed, extending the warmed metal back to him, "But I'll need the right equipment and a workshop, as well as ingredients, and books. I'm a little rusty on my knowledge and wouldn't want something to go wrong"

"Don't worry, I'll get you whatever you need," He said, with surprising care. He turned away from you without taking the object, "My people will come to escort you with your things tomorrow,"

"I have work tomorrow," you stepped closer, still offering him the monkey. He gazed at you with his blackened eye, darting quickly over your face, wide and alert, unresting,

"Resign," He said simply, opening your door and stopping for a moment, " 'The Last Drop' is in need of a new bartender," walking down the stairs of your apartment and disappearing out of your sight. You shut the door, leaning against it,

"Stars guide me towards your light..." You whispered, your hand tightening around the metal of the object and pressing it to your chest, your gaze drifting to the dirty green window, in hopes they'd still hear you over the pollution filled air, "I'm dealing with fucking criminals again," You sighed in defeat, the monkey head being abandoned on your desk, watching as you pulled a backpack from bellow your bed and begun to stuff it with the few possessions you owned.

#arcane #silco #silco x reader #silco my beloved #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #arcane series #arcane spoilers #arcane fanfic #arcane silco #volatilearcane

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silcoseye · 2 years

Text

Volatile: P1: Meeting With an Old Friend

ARCANE SPOILERS!!

WARNINGS: gender-neutral reader, mentions of pain, violence, murder, explosions etc. Takes place roughly hours after the events of episode 3 of "Arcane" ((SPOILERS)) enjoy ;)

2057 words

The initial panic of another person being in your house subsided,

"Silco," You sighed in relief. Having a known murderer and dangerous man should elicit a different response. But alas,

"Did Miss E. let you in?" You asked wearily, dropping your arms to your lap and squinting to be able to see him, eyes focusing on the glowing red pupil that emanated from his eye.

"I entered myself," He said, not moving,

"Savika is in a critical state. As is Singed, and most of my men and women," This perked up your attention, and you sat up in shock,

"Stars- how?" You said, moving the covers aside to reveal you wearing tattered everyday clothes, clearly frequently used, as pyjamas "What happened- how did-"

"Dear Stars, Silco don't tell me y-"

"You killed him?" You asked expectantly, to which his eye narrowed and he nodded,

"Vander was not the man you knew him to be," he said as he averted his gaze. His tone indicated he had rehearsed the phrase already,

"I know, Silco. He tried to kill you," You said, frowning, "And you... I understand your... Ways are unconventional, but I can't support... It's inhumane," At that his lips lifted into a small smile,

"There's a monster in all of us," Another rehearsed phrase, "You supported me once before, didn't you?" Your annoyance grew,

"Why did you come here?" You hissed now, a glare forming, "If you expect me to help you in-"

"I need you to help her," He cut you off. You fell silent again, eyes widening in shock as your head connected the dots

"You're didn't-"

"I took her in,"

"Silco that's-"

"Safety-"

"You need me to train her how to make bombs?" You asked, frowning, "You'll turn her into a weapon?"

"I don't do that anymore," You reminded, "V- He, you and I all walked our separate ways years ago. For a reason. A good reason. And I threw that life away behind me, and-"

"And look where it landed you," He finished for you, smugly, our glare intensifying as you looked up at him, expression neutral, and yet teasing clear in his tone,

"This apartment is fine-"

"It's barely a home. It reaks of the mines. It's cold and damp. There's mould-"

"Don't worry, I'll get you whatever you need," He said, with surprising care. He turned away from you without taking the object, "My people will come to escort you with your things tomorrow,"

"I have work tomorrow," you stepped closer, still offering him the monkey. He gazed at you with his blackened eye, darting quickly over your face, wide and alert, unresting,

#arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #silco x reader #silco my beloved #arcane spoilers

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erule · 3 years

Text

The frat party | t.h.

Title: The frat party

Pairing: Frat boy!Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1823

Warnings: frat boy Tom, angst, nakedness (nothing sexual though, no smut in this chapter), mention of sex, implied smut, cliffhanger at the end, jealous Tom, language, OC Oliver, violence (one punch), blood, plot twists.

Summary: Tom and the reader met at a frat party, but a year later they broke up because of some reason. Now, rumor has it that the reader is dating one of Tom’s friends and he gets jealous.

A/N: Hello hello, I’m back! Have you seen Tom’s recent pics in Monaco?? He looked amazing! Anyway, I don’t know why, but I just had to write a fic with frat boy!Tom, so enjoy!

If you wanna be tagged in my Tom Holland fics, just let me know in my ask box! You can also find me on AO3 and Wattpad. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer!

Main Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

Peter Parker Masterlist

Chapter 1

Break up with my ex girlfriend

Frat parties. Am I right? Worst part of college life. A lot of people drink to forget about their grades and how their lives went wrong, while someone’s just hoping to have some fun with them (if you know what I mean). For the first year, I hated them with passion, but it was before I met him. At a frat party. Oh, the irony! And then, frat parties were the only chance I had to actually talk to him. It didn’t take us long enough to start dating. I think that adults tell you fairy tales to make you grow up with a hope, the hope to find your real happy ending, your true love. Well, I wasn’t used to believe in them, but the year I spent with Tom… that was close to the definition of happy ending. The problem with happy endings? They don’t tell you what happens after them. And that’s because they’re a nightmare.

“Tell me that now or you’re not gonna find me in this bed tomorrow”, he says and there’s a part of me that wants to die right here and right now. I shake my head. I don’t want to do that. Not because I don’t feel anything for him, but I’m scared that this will complicate things between us and it’s the last thing I want. “Are you serious, Y/N? You really think that saying something like that during sex doesn’t count? Calling someone on the phone means something, even if you’re drunk as Hell. So tell me what you really feel about me right now or I swear, I’m out of this room. I’m out of this kind of weird relationship that’s going on between us for years,” Tom says and the veins on his arms draw a beautiful map on his body, in which the moles are cities and his eyes are volcanoes. They’re burning, unlike my skin, that is freezing because I’m not wearing anything at the moment. Except for my shame, perhaps. My insecurities, that never leave me. Even in front of Tom.

“You don’t mean that,” I try to say, my mouth dry. But he’s insanely angry. In another situation, it would be hot.

“I do, Y/N,” he replies. I swallow. His expression softens, like he’s in pain. He comes closer to me, brushing my cheeks with his hands. My eyes are full of tears. His words feel like a prayer on my skin. “Please, tell me”.

And even if I don’t wanna do that, my hands are tied. Even if that’s a lie. I remain in silence. One second after that, he’s gone. Tom always keeps his promises, after all.

2 months before

Harrison sat down with a strange look on his face. It only meant one thing for Tom: trouble. He sighed, throwing away the third cigarette of the day. Jacob raised an eyebrow, trying to get rid of the stench of smoke with one hand.

“I thought you wanted to quit smoking,” Jacob said.

“Relax, I only smoke before finals now,” Tom said. “What’s up, mate? Come on, talk”.

Harrison raised a corner of his lips in a smirk.

“Rumor has it, that Oliver’s got a girlfriend,” he said.

“No way!” Jacob exclaimed.

“Oh, fuck me,” Tom said, laying on the grass with his hands behind his neck, glancing at a couple of girls who were passing by.

“I haven’t said the best part yet, though,” Harrison continued. Jacob urged him to speak further. “He’s gonna throw a party for his birthday and he’ll introduce her to his friends. But since we’re his friends, I was wondering why I haven’t told us anything about this gal in weeks. So I played Sherlock Holmes for a couple of hours and I found out that… we actually know this girl,” he said.

“I bet she’s someone of the campus,” Tom joked, as if it was obvious.

“I bet she’s someone’s ex girlfriend,” Jacob replied.

Harrison remained quiet, but he was smiling.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Tom said, astonished, while sitting on the grass again.

“I won!” Jacob yelled.

“Who’s she? I hooked up with…”

“Ex girlfriend, Tom. It’s not some random girl you hooked up with. She’s someone you remember very well,” Harrison said.

“So we’re talking about me, uh? Well, let’s see… is it Janine? We lasted two weeks, I wouldn’t be mad about her,” he shrugged. Harrison swallowed.

“It’s someone you would be mad about,” Jacob guessed. “And there’s just one person that you would be mad about”.

Tom’s eyes widened at the realization.

“He’s fucking dead”.

Two days after that conversation, here they were: the three of them were laying with their backs on the wall like they were sustaining it from falling down. Tom had threatened Oliver with a Dare to explain, mate?, but his answer was just an I’m sorry Tom, but she’s just your ex. I don’t have to ask for your permission. Or does this mean that you’re still not over her? So, since Tom values too much his pride, he said that he was over her and that Oliver was right, he didn’t have to ask for his permission. Oliver apologized for not telling him that before and then walked away, leaving Tom to smoke the whole pack of cigarettes. Tom was watching Oliver talking with Elizabeth, one of your friends, when he saw you and Zendaya arrive at the party. In his opinion, you were stunning. You immediately caught his gaze. You just never failed to amaze him, even after a year. His heart ached at the view, but it ached even more when you greeted Oliver. You gave him a kiss on his cheek, clenching your hand in a fist. It seemed like you were uncomfortable. So, he came up with a plan to save you.

“Wait for me here,” he said to his friends, then he walked fast to reach you. “Hey mate, happy birthday!” Tom said to Oliver, who hugged him.

“Thanks, Tom. I think that you already know Y/N, Lizzie and Z,” he said and you smiled along with your friends, even if you looked more surprised than happy.

“Of course, I do,” Tom said, looking directly at you. You looked down. “Could I please talk to Y/N? We haven’t been in touch for quite some time and I’d like to catch up with her,” he asked.

“Sure!” Oliver said, while Zendaya seemed looking at you with a concerned expression. You winked at her.

Tom made you move away from Oliver by brushing your back, walking to the next exit. He lowered his voice in order to talk with you only, speaking to your hear: “You look ravishing, darling”.

He noticed that you closed your eyes for a very long second, but you didn’t say a word about that.

“Are you here to show that you still own me or something?”

“I don’t own you, darling. You’re absolutely free to do anything you like,” he said, lighting a cigarette outside the building.

“Z said you wanted to quit smoking,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I only smoke before finals”.

“Finals were yesterday,” you replied.

“Are we here to talk about me or you? I noticed that you were uncomfortable with Oliver, but I thought that you were his girlfriend. Wouldn’t it be weird?”

You smirked.

“Oh, now I get it. You’re jealous”.

“Nah, If I’d be jealous, you would know, trust me,” Tom said, with a playful tone.

“What would you do?” You asked, curiousity eating you alive. You wanted to know so bad if he still had feelings for you.

“Don’t play with fire, darling. You’re gonna burn your pretty hands, otherwise,” he replied, running a finger over his lip. Shivers ran through your spine, but you hoped that Tom didn’t notice it.

“Don’t try to seduce me, Holland. You’re not gonna win this time,” you said, chuckling. “And for the record, we’re not dating. He’s just insistent,” you explained.

Tom looked inside and saw Oliver staring at the two of you. An idea came up into his mind and he couldn’t quite get rid of it. It was smart, but also terrifying. It was very dangerous, yet he had to try.

“We could be in a fake relationship. It could fool everyone,” he proposed.

You turned to look at him, astonished.

“Even after what happened?”

Tom’s eyes were locked with yours, but his facial muscles didn’t move at all. If he still was hurt by the reason that made you two break up, he didn’t show it to you.

“He’s coming here,” he said instead, glancing at Oliver.

“Tom, this is insane,” you kept going. “You said you couldn’t forgive me after…”

It happened all too fast. All the lights went out at the same time. Tom's lips were on yours in an instant. Everything was on fire, every inch of your body. Every cell your flash was made of exploded like a dying supernova. A moment later, someone snatched him from your hands, leaving you in the cold.

Oliver hit him. Tom laughed, nervously, but then he grabbed the collar of Oliver’s shirt and slammed him against the wall, angrily. You pounced on Tom, trying to pull him away from Oliver. At first, Tom looked at you confused, thinking that you just wanted to keep Oliver safe from him, but your eyes told him another story: you prevented him to be kicked out from the campus.

“I told you, you’d know,” he said, while wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth, pretending to be the tough guy he wasn’t.

“Guys, I think we should leave,” Jacob said, while Harrison was taking Tom away from Oliver by his arm.

“I thought we were friends, Tom,” Oliver said, an inch of hurting in his voice tone.

“That was before you came after the only thing I care about,” he said harshly. And then, he left with Harrison and Jacob.

That night, while Tom was cleaning himself of blood in the bathroom, Jacob was staring at him worried, while standing with one arm against the door jamb.

“You never told me what happened, you know, with Y/N last year. Haz doesn’t want to tell me, he thinks it’s up to you. You said that you were over her, but I don’t think you are, since what you did tonight,” he said. Tom kept wiping away the blood from his shirt, ignoring Jacob’s words. “Why have you broken up with her, Tom? It seems pretty obvious that you’re still in love with her”.

Tom gulped, while looking at himself in the mirror. He had tried to bury all of his memories deep down, but it seemed that now the demons wanted to come back and play with him once again. Maybe it had finally come the time to confront them.

When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse: “Because she cheated on me”.

Read chapter 2 here!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #frat boy tom holland fanfiction #frat boy tom holland #fratboy!tom holland #frat boy tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland ff #tom holland imagine #tom holland headcanon #tom holland hc #erule's masterlist #peter parker x reader #tom holland

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illusionsofdreaming · 3 years

Note

Okay but how would Cale react to someone flirting with his s/o and making then uncomfortable

Notes: Woe to those who dare harass Cale’s S/O. RIP.

Ft: Cale

Once a season, the marketplace of Henituse territory holds a special fair to attract visitors and merchants to the duchy. It’s a bustling event that brought people of different backgrounds to one place to celebrate the end of a season and the coming of the next. Recently with their group’s achievements known far and wide, many hopeful fans have begun travelling to the far Northeastern duchy on the faintest hope of catching a glimpse of the kingdom’s rising young Hero.

Said hero who’s currently securely holed up within the confines of his home, far, far away from the crowds and noisy events. Cale would’ve been content to enjoy his very uneventful week were it not for the kids’ persistent begging, which eventually gnawed a hole in his conscience. Having caught the reluctance in his eyes, you and Hans had graciously offered to tag along to help watch the kids and finally, with a sigh, he agreed to leave the safety of his abode for just several hours of browsing.

Before leaving, Cale had asked the youngest to cast facial distortion magic on him. After all, bumping into the so-called ‘fans’ would be the very last thing he’d want to deal with.

The kids were entranced by the many stalls set out for the seasonal fair and he decided to indulge them on this day of fun, sponsoring their purchases and letting the kids lead the way. It became a zigzagging journey that jumped from food stalls to merchants selling niche trinkets, accessories and even puppet plays. At one point, he noticed your interest in a particular booth and came closer to see what had captured your curiosity. He recoiled in horror not a moment later when he realised that they’re mini collectables of some very familiar faces. He’s not surprised to find Choi Han, Alberu, Rosalyn and even Mary’s faces there, but he firmly refused to purchase any miniature figures of himself. The thought of toys being made in his likeliness sent foreboding chills down his spine and he instantly pulled you away, your laughter trailing behind him. He didn’t see Hans purchasing the complete set of figurines for the kids. It wouldn’t be until much later that he would find the same toys hanging out above the fireplace, giving him quite the shock of his life. But that’s a story for another time.

He had only looked away briefly, trying to settle the young ones as they dragged him towards yet another shopfront that piqued their interests when the sound of commotion behind him caught his attention. He turned back to find a stranger lingering by your side, leaning much too close for comfort, but due to the crowds, it was hard for you to put distance between them. He couldn’t make out the conversation from where he was, but the way your arms were crossed and the frown on your face told him all he needed to know.

“Stay with the kids Hans.”

The butler glanced upwards in confusion, followed his gaze and understood the situation immediately. “Of course, Young Master.”

He turned and pushed through the crowds towards your side.

“Thanks, but I’m not really-“

“Darling, the fair’s no fun enjoyed alone. I can show you the best places around here. Come on, I don’t bite.”

“What are you doing?” He grabbed the wrist reaching for you, shoving it away harshly when he noticed your noticeable relief at his intervention. “Are you alright?” he asked you, observing your expression.

“Hey! What the heck are you doing butting in? Can’t you see we’re having a moment here?” A disgruntled voice had him turn around in disbelief to see that man’s still there.

“Excuse me?” Even you sounded incredulous at the gall of this stranger.

The man smirked. “Come on, you can just admit it. As if you’d really push me away and go for this ugly thing instead.”

Cale blanked at the absurdity of the statement. Ugly? He must have misheard. Cale Henituse was many things; trash, wealthy aristocrat, money waster, even a bastard... but ugly was definitely not on the list.

Oh. The facial distortion magic.

He frowned. Unfortunately, realising the truth behind the insult on his person didn’t bring as much comfort he hoped it would as an irrational urge to reveal his face surged within him. Disgruntled and more than a bit put off, he stepped forward, ready to tell the man off, but you, emboldened by his presence by your side, was faster.

“I can assure you I’d pick an ugly man with manners over a self-important ass any day.“ you snapped.

Cale’s frown deepened. He agreed with everything you said, but something about that word from your mouth didn’t sit right with him.

The man’s arrogant smirk twisted. “Seriously?” He took a step forward, jolting Cale aside. “I can show you a much better time than him, that’s for sure.”

Cale grabbed their shoulder, truly annoyed now; a dangerous glint swirled in his eyes as a sudden suffocating tension fell upon the area. He noticed your eyes widening in recognition of his Dominating Aura and felt as you slipped your hand in his, probably trying to calm him.

But Cale was calm. His thoughts never clearer as he stared down the man rooted to the spot. “Let me give you a piece of advice, man to scum. Walk away now. If you touch them again, it won’t matter what the law says, I promise I’ll show you what ugly really looks like.”

As quick as the heavy pressure descended on the area, it disappeared. Cale held your hand and led you away, leaving the rude fellow gasping as if he’d just seen a ghost.

You walked in silence together for a while as Cale navigated through the crowds trying to figure out where the others had wandered off too. He was more than happy to put the annoying situation behind him but one thought stubbornly remained on his mind. He stopped abruptly, and caught you before you could bump into his back.

“Do you think I’m ugly?”

He watched as confusion crossed your expression before being quickly replaced by understanding. Your burst of laughter made him scowl as he felt the tips of his ears heat up, he was ready to brush the question off when you reached to hold his face. The quick kiss you pressed to his lips soothed his ruffled feathers. He was a bit regretful that you pulled away so quickly even as he heard the ‘Ewwws’, ‘Gross!’ and a hastily ’Shhh’ command from familiar voices from behind.

“I love you Cale.” you whispered against his lips.

His face remained blank, but the light blush across his nose betrayed his feelings as he squeezed your hand gently.

Should I smack that jerk in the back? An ominous voice whispered into his head.

He glanced down at the young children now gathered around them, all who were looking up at him with pleading eyes.

On and Hong moved towards your side, and he reluctantly released your hand as the two kittens nestled up against you.

“He’s so rude!”

“Are you alright?”

Bombarded with the sudden influx of concerned questions, he watched as you smiled and petted the children’s hair in reassurance. Subtly, without turning his gaze elsewhere, he dipped his head slightly in confirmation.

It’s ever so satisfying to watch the man trip over air and fall into a crate of rotten produce, to be jeered and laughed at as he scuttled away stench covered. He knew it was worth the trouble when he was graced with the tinkling of your laughter and knowing gaze.

#imagines #tcf #trash of the count's family #cale henituse #fluff #protecting #harassment #cale showing's who's boss #not afraid to use a little magic #you know he'll definitely smack that man #you cannot change my mind that KRS is quite proud of Cale's handsome face #tcf x reader

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on-a-lucky-tide · 3 years

Note

Could I maybe request a lil Lambert-centric hurt/comfort ficlet? With Lambert/Jaskier/Eskel and lots of love for the prickly pup?

A/N: Lambert loses his eyesight after a contract. He spends a week--maybe even two--wandering the streets of Novigrad, unable to navigate his way to safety and food because of the noises, smells and dangers of a human settlement. Thankfully, destiny plays her hand, bringing Eskel and Jaskier to his side just when he needs them the most. Lambskel, Jaskel and Jaskelbert. Warnings: injury; reference to arousal; hurt/comfort.

Cadaverine in the eyes. For a human, it’d be permanent. The mouth of a graveir was a petri dish of bacteria, rot and whatever else it’d got its disgustingly long tongue inside of. Lambert had interrupted dinner time and hadn’t realised there was a fourth hiding behind a large, fallen log, snacking on the corpse of some captain of the guard. It got a lucky shot in and he’d finished the fight off blind.

That was over a week ago. Perhaps more.

His sight was beginning to return, but the murky grey with dark shapes looming by were more unsettling than the absolute darkness of before. He squinted threateningly at every set of passing footsteps and pulled his cloak tightly around his shoulders. Navigating without sight was exhausting. Every sense was stretched as Lambert felt his way through the world while trying to maintain the illusion of having all his faculties in working order. It was impossible in settlements. Where the reek of excrement and cacophony of noise crowded in on his remaining senses, leaving him reeling and nauseous.

So, he could only really move at night, but that was dangerous. More likely to run into bandits and cutthroats. Not necessarily an issue normally, but weak and hurt it wouldn’t be a walk in the park. He slumped now beside a stacked pile of crates recently unloaded from one of the Skelligen vessels that had pulled into harbour overnight. The overwhelming stench of fish and salt went some way in drowning out the even worse smell of the open sewers running down the far end of the street.

There were times on the Path when it all got too much, when he thought about the high cliffs on the Cidaris coast and how easy it would be to just—

But something always stopped him. Like Destiny played her hand in the moments when he was at his lowest. With his chin tilted down to his chest, his shoulders hunched over and his cloak pulled over his head, he thought himself unidentifiable to the rest of the world. He’d tucked his swords and packs out of sight, not that the latter now had much in them. He’d exhausted his already low supply of food two days ago despite fastidious rationing, and he couldn’t risk walking into a tavern and having every lout in there seeing an easy meal ticket.

Lay low. Meditate. Ignore the hunger pangs. Survive.

“Lambert?”

Every muscle in his body clenched tight and his hand dropped instinctively towards the sword hilts tucked down by his side. He didn’t recognise the voice immediately. His hungry, anxious mind only cottoned onto the name, and generally people who knew his name on the Path were not good news. And then—

“Eskel? Eskel! It’s Lambert, come quickly,” the voice was familiar; it was meant for singing and banter. The owner fell to his knees at Lambert’s side, long fingers curled around the edge of his hood and pulled it away. There were only a handful of men on the entire Continent—ordinary men, without magic or mutation—that would not cower from a Witcher or seek to harm one that was wounded.

“Bard?” Lambert croaked. His throat was dry. He hadn’t been able to sniff out a source of fresh water, and despite his immunity disease, not even he could bring himself to drink from the fetid puddles pooling in the streets. He wasn’t that desperate. Not yet. Heavy footfalls approached then, and a warm familiar hand cupped his jaw. Attached to those callused fingers were a bouquet of familiar scents; arenaria and beggartick blossom, for starters. Beneath that though were memories of fires stacked with cedarwood, of tender lips and even gentler caresses. “Eskel?” It wasn’t a sob. It fucking wasn’t.

“Yeah, little wolf, it’s me,” Eskel replied, scooping Lambert towards him. There was no resistance. No attempt to maintain pride and that was worrying in itself. “What happened? You’re just bones.”

“Graveir spat in my eyes,” Lambert replied, head flopping to Eskel’s shoulder. He hadn’t fully registered his rescue yet, just that he was safe in that moment. “It must’ve been eating something fucking rotten, because… I… I can’t see. It’s just grey. I don’t…” Lambert panted, and Eskel’s hand stroked gently over his greasy hair.

“Alright, alright, can you walk? We’re going to take you to the Kingfisher Inn. Jaskier’s got some connections there. Right?” Eskel must’ve looked across at Jaskier, who nodded silently at first, and then—

“Yes, yes of course, dear heart,” his voice strained with worry, and Lambert felt his fingertips trace over his eyebrow. “Food, bath, and we’ll send for a healer. We—this has to be fixable, yes?”

Lambert gave an affirmative grunt and then struggled to his feet with Eskel’s assistance. “My bags—,” he started, but heard the jungle of his belt and the rustle of burlap as Jaskier plucked them from the ground. Eskel had to lift him onto Scorpion’s back—he didn’t have the strength in his legs or core to pull himself into the saddle—and they left the reeking harbour behind.

The Kingfisher Inn was the largest tavern in the whole of Novigrad, and the most expensive. It was located in the northeast corner of the Hierarch Square, in the very centre of the massive city. It was a popular haunt for Priscilla, the known place to assist mages in escaping persecution and named by the owner, Olivier, after one of Jaskier’s poems. It was a haven. A safe place for the magical and mysterious alike. Without the others to guide him, there was no way in hell Lambert would’ve stumbled across it on his own.

He could smell the stables as they approached them, his nose wrinkling as it did with every new scent, and accepted Eskel’s arms in helping him down from Scorpion’s saddle. “Stay close to my side,” Eskel whispered near his ear, his voice like a balm over the pain of the noise. So much fucking noise. “I won’t let anyone touch you, I promise.”

He knew. Of course, he did. Lambert’s hatred of unsolicited touch from those he didn’t know was no secret to his lovers. Pressed close to Eskel’s reassuring bulk, with the bard walking ahead, they entered the Inn. Lambert expected to be swamped immediately by braying laughter, scraping furniture and clashing tankards, but instead he heard a woman’s voice and the gentle strum of a familiar instrument. A lute. There were a few murmurs of quiet conversation, but otherwise everyone was still—silent—and watching the performer. “These scars long have yearned for your tender caress, to bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own, rend my heart open, then your love profess.”

Eskel navigated his way deftly around the tables, shoving several men out the way as they stood to retrieve themselves a drink, and Jaskier walked ahead to negotiate a room as quickly as possible. Climbing the stairs proved to be an ordeal, and Eskel ended up carrying Lambert most of the way. The room smelled clean, with a scrubbed floor and bed linens that weren’t infested with lice. “I’ve ordered a bath up,” Jaskier said, followed by the dull thud of Lambert’s bags and his lute case hitting the floor. “Eskel, tell me what poultices you need, and I’ll send a boy.”

“Hmm, lemme check first.” Eskel placed Lambert gently down into the armchair by the fire. It was beaten, with its stuffing hanging out the cushions, but a damned sight more comfortable than the cobblestones of the harbour. He tilted Lambert’s head back, but met resistance as he tried to touch around his eyes. “Relax, little wolf. I need to look. I won’t hurt you.”

“Mmph,” Lambert huffed, but allowed his face to be cradled as Eskel tugged at the edges of his eyes. The sockets were sore, his eyes in a constant state of burning discomfort, and Eskel’s gentle probing proved almost too much to handle.

“I’ve got the arenaria and beggartick,” Eskel murmured; Lambert mused he must’ve been picking it shortly before entering the city. “Gonna’ need blowball, cortinarius and pringrape.” A quill scratched across parchment as Jaskier made a note. “Get me some bandages too. Thick ones.”

“Any need for a healer? A mage?”

Lambert was about to open his mouth to protest, but Eskel harumphed. “Not for this. I’ve seen it enough over the years.”

Thank fuck for Eskel’s overwhelming competence. Lambert slumped in the chair, and all he could do now was listen as the others moved around him. A few minutes later he heard the heavy thump of a large basin making it into the room, and then the periodic slosh of water as it was filled. The door clicked shut softly, and Eskel crouched down before him; a dark, amorphous shape beneath the general blur of grey. “There’s no one here but me, and Jaskier’ll be arriving back soon. Can I undress you?”

Lambert scowled, knowing full well Eskel was doing the thing he did, with the consent and the careful handling of Lambert’s agency, and it almost made him angry. “Yes, no… I can do it, just help with the armour, alright?”

Together, they divested Lambert of his clothes. Eskel placed his armour to one side for cleaning later, and carefully plucked open the buckles of his boots and gambeson. He stunk to high heaven—stress, sweat and the filth of the streets—but Eskel still pulled him close as they staggered across to the bath water. Lambert lifted his foot and Eskel guided it over the lip of the tub for him, providing his shoulder as support. The hot water engulfed his aching limbs and punched a low groan from his chest. Oh fuck, it was so good.

Lambert, unlike the others, didn’t indulge in a full bath often. Getting completely naked out in the big bad world, in his mind, wasn’t a particularly intelligent thing to do. Many a noble and king had been murdered with his gonads hanging out and his bare ass open to the wind; he should know, he’d stuck the knife in enough of them. Don’t tell Eskel.

The water bubbled as Eskel coaxed it a little hotter with a twist of igni, and Lambert could smell the subtle scents of bath salts. Jaskier’s. “How long have you been like this?” Eskel asked softly. Lambert felt the brush of his bare forearm against his outer thigh as he soaked the washcloth in his hands; he must’ve taken his gambeson off and rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbow.

“A while,” Lambert grated out, feeling foolish now that his equilibrium was returning. “Managed to get myself stuck in this fucking town. Couldn’t find my way out again.”

“Novigrad’s… tough,” Eskel acknowledged; the patter of water droplets on the surface of the bath, the slosh of his hand moving through it as he wet the soap. “I’m going to wash your face first, while the water’s still clean, then everything else. Need to know if anything hurts, any other injuries.”

“No, just… it’s fine, just do what you need to do.” Lambert hunkered down, but it was impossible to stay tense when Eskel began to work. He wiped the grime away from Lambert’s face, rinsing his beard and then lathering soap through his hair. The rub of Eskel’s fingers alone across his scalp was enough to melt him to putty; slow, deliberate circles at just the right pressure. They worked down his neck to his shoulders next; across his lean chest and sunken stomach beneath the waterline. It didn’t take long for Witchers to start wasting. Metabolisms and all that.

The door opened briefly and Lambert tensed, but he knew the cadence of that gait and relaxed seconds later. Jasker. And he’d brought food. Good food. Meaty stew stuffed with potatoes, and freshly baked bread. Lambert’s mouth began to water and he couldn’t hide his eagerness as he sat up in the bath. “Lean back, my dear,” Jaskier spoke softly, kneeling down on the other side of the tub. “It’s all yours. Not going anywhere. So that Eskel can work unimpeded, may I feed it to you?”

Lambert really didn’t care. It just needed to be in his face yesterday. These two had seen him at his lowest before. Was it worse than this? Probably not. “Yeah, fine… c’mon, I feel like a zeugl’s gnawing through my insides.”

Eskel chuckled. “Then we would have a problem.” He was working over Lambert’s arms, beneath them and then down his sides. His hair, face and beard were clean, and now Eskel could see the dark, greeny-black of the graveir’s poison around his eyes. He glanced at Jaskier, who agreed wordlessly to stay quiet about it and, instead, the bard focused on his task.

“Slowly,” Jaskier chided as Lambert practically bit his gods-damned fingers off when a chunk of bread was offered. “If you’re sick on this doublet, we’ll have a falling out.”

“If it’s like the others, it might be an improvement.” Lambert smirked and Jaskier thumped him lightly on the shoulder before retrieving the spoon from the bowl. The stew was perfectly seasoned, with thick, fatty cuts of meat crammed with energy that Lambert’s body craved; he wolfed down the first few before Jaskier could adjust, but began to savour the taste as Eskel worked over his belly and down his thighs. His skin thrummed in appreciation, each caress left ripples of sensation behind even when the hand had moved on, and Lambert could feel his body stirring…

“That’s a good sign,” Eskel growled; the cheeky shit. Lambert shuffled lower in the bath, and Jaskier leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Weak for a little tenderness, aren’t you?” The bard teased, and then proceeded to feed Lambert the last few morsels of bread. This time the Witcher nipped deliberately at his fingers, lapping at one moments before it drew away. Those clever digits needed to be on Lambert’s skin, not teasing around his mouth. “Later, my love. We need to sort your eyes, and get you wrapped up in bed for some rest.”

“Best do the second bit first, he won’t want to move once I’ve got the poultice on,” Eskel murmured, taking his time beneath Lambert’s legs as the other invited him with a cheeky splay of the knees. Any other time and Eskel would’ve indulged him; the sensation of such delicate, bath soft skin against his palm was a delight, but he had more pressing matters.

With a little bit of awkward negotiation, Eskel helped Lambert out of the bath and wrapped him in a laundered towel provided by the owner. When Eskel had said Jaskier was connected, he really hadn’t been lying. Lambert allowed himself to be pampered, mumbling in appreciation as strong hands dried him, and then helped him into a soft pair of braies before leading him to the bed.

The sheets were actually pleasant. Not the scratchy fibres he was used to on the occasion he was frivolous and bought himself a room for the night. The pillow behind his head was stuffed with… were those actual feathers? Lambert closed his eyes tightly. Contrasted to the overwhelming relief of being fed, bathed and comfortable, the pain in his eyes was becoming more acute.

Jaskier stayed with him as Eskel left to prepare the poultice. Those soft, bardic hands with the accenting calluses stroked over Lambert’s chest in soothing circles, enjoying the soft fluff of his chest hair now that he was freshly cleaned. “Hmm, this one’s new.” He traced a delicate fingertip down a scar over Lambert’s ribs; Lambert could practically hear Jaskier’s grin when he shivered.

“Yeah, fell over while cleaning out an endrega nest, not even that good a story,” Lambert grumbled. “Broke two ribs as well.”

“Any story in which the hero survives is a good story.” Jaskier prodded his chest, and then went back to those slow circles. “This has done absolutely nothing to alleviate my worries about leaving you all to wander the Path. Are you sure you can’t simply hunt as a pack, hm? Are you not the School of the Wolf? Howl at the moon, sleep in piles, run the wilds with your partners and family.”

“Perhaps one day,” Eskel called over; Lambert could hear the grate of a pestle and mortar, and the trickle of spirit as he mixed his herbs together. “But for now, there’s so few of us, too much work, and not enough pay for it to happen.”

“Witchering is the only profession I know of where scarcity of workers still allows for low wages,” Jaskier grumbled, and then assisted Lambert in taking a long drink of water before Eskel settled down on the edge. “How long will this take to heal?”

“Difficult to say.” Eskel wrapped the clean bandages over Lambert’s chest so that he could pack them with the poultice. “This is gonna’ sting. Don’t crush Jaskier’s hand, he needs it.”

“I will sacrifice my hand for my Witchers,” Jaskier stated, shoving his fingers into Lambert’s as if to prove his point. “Here, darling.”

“No need, bard, I’m not a pu—fucking—shit—bollocks—FUCK!” Lambert practically bowed off the bed as Eskel rested the saturated bandages over his eyes. It was as if he’d just poured liquid fire into his eye sockets. His entire body shook with the pain, and his free hand fisted the sheets until his knuckles bleached white; Jaskier let his other go in favour of stroking his arms and chest, while Eskel rested a warm palm over the top of the offending bandage to keep it settled.

“Give it a moment, it’ll settle, it’s just reacting with the poison,” Eskel whispered. “It’s alright. Deep breaths.”

As promised, the pain began to abate into a dull thrum. His breathing calmed and the two warm bodies either side of him left. They weren’t gone for long though; he heard the rustle of clothes as they hit the floor, the creak of the bed as their weight returned, and then the brush of their warm, bare skin as they curled up against him. Both bodies strong and soft with hair; Eskel slightly thicker everywhere, but Jaskier just as pleasingly broad and firm. You could really forget just how thick those biceps were underneath his poofy doublet. Eskel pressed a kiss to his damp cheek; his tears had mixed with the poultice and left damp trails to his beard. “Sleep, little wolf. We’ll stay until you’re better again.”

“No, it’s fine, you need to—”

“Enough,” Jaskier grumbled, open palm resting on Lambert’s chest. “What we need to do is stay at your side until you’re well enough. Now hush, do as Eskel says, we’ll eat again when you wake.”

Swamped in warm blankets, with a belly full of good food, Lambert found it easy to drift off despite the dull pain in his face. The smells, the noise, the press of humanity, all faded into the background. In the arms of Eskel and Jaskier, he was safe. He was loved.

#rawrkinwrites #Lambskel #Jaskel #Jaskelbert #Jaskier x Eskel x Lambert #Jaskier/Eskel/Lambert #Temporary Injury #Witcher Senses #Novigrad #Hurt/Comfort #Fluff

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hitory--chan · 3 years

Text

Day 5: Queen of the Garden

(Ranked T)

Title: In my withered roses you lay resting

Around the forest there were always legends of all kinds, about fantastic creatures and horrifying monsters beyond human imagination, about nymphs, fairies, werewolves and giant snakes that would devastate the entire town in a few minutes if they wanted to; they were just legends, stories to amaze or scare whoever would listen to them, hypnotizing the virgin ear that listened to them with their magnetism, leading their victim to demand more, driving them mad in the search to satisfy that need.

But there was one in particular, the biggest, the most fantastic, the most sublime and the most terrifying no one ever dared to tell, the one whose existence was only known to the oldest of the town who defended tooth and nail its veracity, but nevertheless only tell each other, remembering and crying the intense agony that each word conveyed.

The legend of Hinata, the queen of the garden in the heart of the forest, and Sasuke, the infamous king who without any army was able to penetrate the invulnerable barriers that protected the queen.

The king who never returned.

“My King!” One of her courtesans shouted. "Please, I beg you to reconsider!"

He ignored her, tightening the draws of his armor as the guards placed the shoulder pads and handed him his helmet, which he took.

It was still dark, the moonlight hanging over the entire sleeping kingdom as he prepared to leave.

"My lord, he turned, now listening to his first officer, Kakashi, who was speaking to him "Are you sure this is a good idea? Going into the forest alone?"

"It's not something I didn't do before, Kakashi, you should know" he replied without much interest as he grasped the reins of Onyx, the majestic black horse that had accompanied him for years.

"I understand, but it's not the same, your majesty, it never got beyond the Stone River" the man said, his voice so slow and dull as if it was something he was trained to say, but Sasuke knew him better than many as to know that there was concern hidden behind those dead tones “It is a great risk to take to find a woman that we do not even know exists”

"People are dying Kakashi, of hunger, of disease ..." He inclined his head a little towards his first officer, not enough to really see him “If that woman, that… witch exists, it will be our chance to solve all the evils that afflict us, if I find her, then I save my people”

“And if you do not find her, my lord?”

“Then we will have to take more drastic actions, actions that I don't think we're ready for right now, Kakashi”

The silence that followed told Sasuke that the man knew what he was referring to.

They had recently fought a war against a rival kingdom that wanted to take over all his lands. They attacked in the middle of the night, cowardly seeking to have the tactical advantage darkness gave them without expecting the surprise that they were ready to fight back with much more violence than would be expected of a small kingdom that barely prospered in comparison to others. Many lives were lost on both sides, but his army had kept the slightest advantage over the invaders and captured the main officers of the intruders, executing him right on the battlefield as he had ordered them to do, closing any openings to negotiation the rival might propose.

They rose above them and conquered, drove the remaining invaders from their lands and proclaimed their victory, but they had not come out without casualties, as happened in any other war.

Their crops were burned and their women desecrated. Bodies of infants who had adventured out of their hiding spots now laying among the corpses of their fathers and men who sacrificed their lives in the name of the king's sovereignty, waiting to be buried or burned while their mothers, wives, and brothers mourned their losses.

Soon after came the diseases, plagues so violent that even the best physicians in the kingdom had succumbed to permanent contact with the infected and were now lying in beds, signaling with weak voices to proceed to their charges.

The only hope was the woman who dwelt in the depths of the forest, a queen in her own right, the oracle told him, whose miraculous fingers brought life to everything she touched. A witch, servant of the devil, counterattacked the priest, who would only bring bliss before plunging them further into misery.

A queen, a witch, Sasuke didn't care, he only wanted her hands to heal his people, determined to cut them off if necessary to save the few that were left.

Then Sasuke mounted his horse and reached out his hand, taking the sword that Kakashi had prepared for him and fastening it to his waist strap, where it would remain with him throughout his journey.

"Itachi will be in charge while I'm gone" he decreed, looking at his court, who looked at him in surprise and disbelief.

“My king, my lord!” The woman spoke again “His majesty is very ill for this task, I fear that his condition is too delicate to carry the role, your highness!”

“My brother already ruled once in a worse state than the one he currently is in while waiting for me to grow up to cede the throne, he certainly can do it a bit more while I'm gone”

“But sir…!”

"In case his condition worsens ..." he interrupted, with a tone of voice as icy as the look he gave the woman "in case he´s not an act to continue, then Kakashi will make all the decisions in my absence and my brother's disability”

Several indignant murmurs were heard from the other members of the court, annoyed by the possibility of a military man would rule them, but with the same look he gave the insolent woman, he quieted them all.

"Kakashi" he called and the man walked with him towards the limits of the kingdom that served as the border of the forest, trotting slowly as his first officer followed him with great ease "I trust you to keep everyone safe, especially my brother” he said, stopping his steed and staring at the man.

"My king's orders are my perpetual la," Kakashi recited, quoting the motto of imperial strength as he brought his right hand to his heart and bowed to him.

Sasuke nodded, but before starting his horse again, he spoke for the last time.

- And Kakashi ... execute her

Kakashi bowed again and Sasuke pulled the reins of his horse to start running, going into the forest when the first rays of dawn hit the ground, and knowing his order would be carried out without hesitation.

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

Inside the forest the thick trees hid any trace of the sun, giving the illusion that it was still night even though Sasuke knew it must be after eight.

Still he didn't back down, mentally reciting the directions the oracle had given him to find the mysterious woman.

“Once crossed the river of stone, the road will split for you, one more dangerous the other, competing for the new prey that appears before them. Be guided by the horrendous noises that make the bones of the strongest of men tremble, by the trail of perdition from which your eyes will not be able to turn away, from the putrid stench of those who defied the sanctity of the earth who stepped on impure feet.

Along the way you will find death's favorite resting place. Do not drink or eat the natural delicacies that will be shown for you, instead you must use your senses, facing the great beast that will attack from the shadows.

If the combat is satisfactory, then the beast will show its respects by leading you to its queen, otherwise, there will be the place of your last rest"

Naturally, oracles liked to be cryptic with their words to the point of making them indecipherable, but the more than a century old woman who had served three generations of her family had put those fanfare behind her, preferring to be as clear as possible in her revelations than risk a bad future for the kingdom because of misunderstandings out of her tongue.

Upon reaching the Stone River, he took a moment to observe the waters peacefully.

That river had been named this way not only because of the rock formation that simulated a natural bridge in the center of that great pool, just covering its surface with a thin layer of water that made it extremely slippery, but also because of the rock at its bottom, arranged in the shape of spikes so sharp that even the slightest fall on them could cause fatal injuries to the unfortunate victim.

He allowed Onyx to drink some of the water before venturing across the stone bridge.

His horse, fearless just like his owner, also had some afraid. On rare occasions he’d tried to cross that path through the waters with the equine, but his partner had acquired a phobia at that particular step when, being very young, he slipped on the stone and it was almost impossible for him to get back on his feet, almost falling to the bottom of the river when with desperate movements he slid to one side before finally reaching the bank of the river and climbing, being completely exhausted on the grass, all under the frightened gaze of his owner who had remained on dry land while his horse struggled.

He remembers that, after that, he had remained with Onyx there for longer than he ever was in that place, being found by the royal guard and brought to the castle only to remain expectant all night at the possibility of having to sacrifice the animal.

Now, Onyx was a majestic and imposing stallion with more history than half his stablemates, but from time to time he would turn back into a fearful foal when they were near that place.

However, while he normally wouldn't push him any further than he considered Onyx could take, this time around he couldn't afford to be understandable to his horse or to be left without a mount for the rest of the way.

“Come on boy!” He encouraged him, shaking the reins several times and smiling as Onyx, refusing at first, approached the rock and put his front legs on it, whinnying loudly as he took small terrified steps.

Even in the slippery material, the new horseshoes he had had his horse put on were being especially helpful in preventing the equine's legs from slipping over the rock even when Onyx's steps were somewhat shaky, leading the horse to gain a little confidence with every step until he was finally on the other side.

“Well done, Onyx!” He congratulated the horse, patting and stroking his neck before pulling out an apple, which he happily accepted.

He wasted no time and continued with the journey, reaching the place where the road divided in three.

At first glance they did not seem dangerous at all, leading him to wonder if the oracle had been wrong with her interpretation or if he had deviated from the correct path himself, but the sudden sound of something sliding on the ground caught his attention and put his whole body on guard again, waiting for any sign of attack.

Instead what he received was the cawing of birds, crows, he recognized, noises of something sliding and the screeching of bats that flew directly to his face at that moment, causing Onyx to panic and stand up on his two hind legs, almost making Sasuke to fall.

When he regained his balance and Onyx was back on all fours, Sasuke looked at the central path, remembering what the oracle had said and thinking that this should be the way to go, so he made the horse move forward, despite the reluctance of the animal.

The putrid stench started only a few minutes on the road before dead animals began to appear on the road, being replaced only a few meters later by human corpses in various states of putrefaction, from skeletons to bodies that should barely have been there for a few days. , and even recognized the uniform worn by the third-rank guards in his kingdom, only stuffed with bones, each corpse wrapped by vines and other local weeds.

He was forced to breathe as little as possible when the stench became impossible to bear, coming to vomit in the section where everything was strongest, without having the opportunity to breathe until the road began to clear of so much death, showing to his sight a great stone plateau clothed with climbing vines and rosebuds.

He got off his horse and gave him another snack, tying the reins to the tree farthest from the ferns and other plants full of fruit that he knew they shouldn't eat.

Slowly and carefully he approached the great structure, gazing at it in fascination. Up close, he noticed the spines that protruded around the roses of different sizes that decorated the plateau, which, he noticed, were deceptively sharp, cutting him at the simple touch and spilling a thick drop of blood that bathed the thorn that caused his wound.

The sudden tremor in his spine appeared as the slight trembling of the earth beneath his feet, accompanied by the sound of something sliding - something that must have been big and heavy, from the way it sounded - and then deafening silence was present. .

“Onyx!” He shouted, turning around when he heard the horse whinny and stop suddenly, expecting to meet the animal where he had left it, however in its place he found another type of animal, giant and with shiny black scales, which were only cut with the three red lines of scales on the tip of its tail, raised in the air with a swaying motion.

The gigantic snake kept its eyes fixed on his, hissing and showing off his forked white tongue.

Eyes wider than they had ever been in his life, he diverted them just a little to the rest of the great reptile's body, almost growling in pain at the bulge protruding from where, he guessed, was the stomach of the immense snake, sure it was the product of his horse swallowing.

Feeling the flame of fury ignite and grow in him, he grasped the hilt of his sword in a slow motion and drew it lightly, as the serpent rose a little higher above him.

With one swift movement he pulled it out completely as the snake lunged at him, barely being fast enough to avoid its jaws, but not fast enough to dodge its tail, which slammed it against a tree and left it stamped there until he nailed the sword almost halfway.

Even his powerful armor hadn't been enough to shield him from that blow, catching his breath cut short by the pressure of the limb that had held him captive, but he had no time to think about that as he tried to get away from the great perimeter that covered the snake.

The injured tail slammed into the ground next to him, causing him to stumble from the din it caused.

The reptile's head also collided with the ground a few feet from his back and then glided at high speed towards him, using its nose to push him up when he collided with him and sent him flying into the air as the snake rose again, now with its jaws open.

But Sasuke was able to hold on to the tip of the animal's nose and avoid being swallowed as he had done with his horse by resting his feet against the bottom of the snake's mouth and giving a little jump before it closed it, being helped by the impulse that the same reptile gave him before the abrupt movement it made while trying to make him fall.

Sasuke stayed on the snake's skull and held onto its scales as best he could before stabbing his sword - which he had clung to as much as he could during the attack - into one of the animal's eyes, which let out a shrill and strange sound before, to Sasuke's immense amazement, it made a 180 ° turn and threw himself hard against the floor, taking him with and crashing him on the flat surface, a blow so violent that it caused him to lose his helmet, his mobility and his strength.

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

Only seconds before he lost consciousness he saw the towering snake - now one-eyed - rise above him before launching itself with his jaws open just as Sasuke's eyes finally gave up.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the immense throbbing pain in his head that only got worse when he tried to open his eyes, being hit by the brightest sunlight that forced him to close them again.

Where had so much light come from?

After a while, and when he was sure he could resist it, he opened his eyes again.

It took him a long time to regain the clarity of his sight, but once everything was clear he was astonished at what he saw.

In front of him a large colorful space, green above all, stood proud in all that light. Huge trees were here and there, casting great shadows, covered with fruit in great quantity.

A few meters from him was a lake with crystal clear waters, reflecting everything that was shown from above.

It was only when a slight movement behind him caught his attention that he realized he had been leaning against something cold, and when he turned around he felt as if his entire being had left his body when he found himself face to face with the giant eye yellowish that he recognized instantly.

He backed away quickly, grunting in pain as his muscles protested at his sudden movements, but instead of stopping to ease them, he fought them and reached for his sword at her waist, surprised not to find it.

The snake stared at him for a few seconds before lazily deflecting its head toward the center of the thread that had turned its body.

—You must not fear, it will not hurt you

He turned quickly and looked around, searching for the soft voice that he had said those words.

"Onyx" he breathed out, seeing the mate he had thought he lost, now lying on the grass, asleep on the other side of the lake.

Naturally those words were not said by the animal, but by the other person next to it, who was gently stroking the mane of his horse.

Their eyes met and he forgot how to breathe, incredulous of the moons that were his pupils, beautiful, and that without a doubt were looking directly at him.

The woman stood up and he could see her completely: snowy skin, long dark hair that swayed with every step she took. Her body was covered in leaves, branches and flowers that clung to her like a second layer. The upper part of her was covered by vines up to the middle of her breasts, being enough to cover the most. The lower part was a skirt, much less rigid than the upper one as it was made entirely of green leaves in different sizes, stopping only a few inches above her knees.

A long vine rested in the center of her abdomen, joining the two pieces as one.

She was barefoot and her hair was decorated with the most elaborate flower crown he had ever seen in his life.

As he passed by the lake, he stopped, crouching in the direction of the water, taking from the ground a large leaf of a plant that he did not recognize - and which he had not realized was lying there - and wrapped it gently until it formed a bowl that she plunged into the water until filled it, rising again and resuming its way towards him, now with the makeshift pot that spilled tiny drops from its bottom.

When she finally got to him, he saw her more clearly: thin and natural pink lips, a small and upturned nose, perfectly shaped eyebrows and long eyelashes that only marveled her appearance even more, also highlighting the lack of the slightest freckle on her face.

She offered him the bowl but he did not take it at first, still fascinated and hypnotized by the beauty of the woman in front of him until she pushed it to his chest, forcing him to hold it as she took one by one his hands between her smallest and drew them to the sides of the blade, releasing it when she made sure his grip was firm.

She, with one of her index fingers, touched the surface of the water three times in different parts, and when her hand lowered three different flowers grew in the water: a lotus, a calla and a water lily, which immediately disintegrated and mixed with the liquid, giving it a color that ranged from pink to purple.

"Take it" she said, looking into his eyes "it will help you heal."

He didn't know why, but he obeyed her and took the entire tonic in one gulp, grimacing when the bitter taste of it touched his tongue and she slid down her throat.

She smirked and turned around, walking back to where Onyx was now awake, looking at them wearily.

"It's you" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, looking at her completely uncovered back as she walked away from him “The witch”.

Her walking stopped and she turned around again, looking at him now with a frown, offended.

“That's very rude!. I am not a witch" she protested "My name is Hinata Hyuga, and I am the queen of this garden" she said proudly, turning to resume her march as if her statement was enough to deny his word.

But he would not be fooled; he had witnessed for himself what she had done in the water she had given him to drink.

He looked around him and his sight fell on his sword and armor, arranged neatly on the grass near the giant serpent's tail.

Slowly and careful not to be heard he approached his things and took the sword at the same time that with difficulty he took three steps back as the snake's tail moved to hit the ground and then returned to its original position.

It took a bit of trouble, but he was able to raise his sword and hold it with both hands, directing the tip in the direction in which that woman - that witch - was, now again sitting on the grass, stroking the back of his horse, looking at him unimpressed.

"Witch, you will come with me" he demanded "Everything will be easier if you do not resist, you will get a decent treatment: you will sleep in the softest bed, you will wear the finest clothes ... otherwise, if you resist, you ... you ..." He stopped for a moment, not for lack of words, but from shortness of breath —If… if you resist… the dungeon… the smallest and dirtiest dungeon will be…

"You’re hurting them" she interrupted, and he didn't understand.

The witch looked down and he followed her eyes, stopping at the sword that was now stuck in the middle of a small group of flowers.

When had he lowered his sword?

“What did you do to me?” He growled, aware of the progressive loss of strength to which he was subjected.

"It's the medicine" said the witch, calmly "for your body to heal, it must first rest”

And as if that were a command, his body fell apart, causing him to fall to the floor on a tall grass bed that he could swear was not there a moment ago.

- Witch! ... You will pay...

Unconsciousness welcomed him.

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

When he woke up there was still sunlight, quite clear, so he thought that maybe he had only slept a few seconds, but the environment felt different from before and he could hear the distinctive galloping and neighing of Onyx, going here and there as his footsteps slightly covered the happy laugh of the female.

He could not move his body freely, only just his fingers, and mentally he cursed himself for having taken that concoction that this evil woman had given him, clearly using her sorcery to weaken him.

“Your body still needs rest” he could have shuddered at the sudden voice if it weren't for the fact that he was paralyzed, shortly afterwards the witch's face appeared in his visual range, tilted from above so he could see her “you´ve been very hurt by your confrontation with Munda, your injuries will take a little longer to heal”

He grunted, annoyed.

“Why have you risked your life to get here, mortal?” She asked him, now in a more serious tone.

Then and once again without really knowing why, he began to tell her about his kingdom, about the moments of wealth and prosperity before the war struck, about the deaths and the lack of food that besieged them, making their situation worse. He told her about his brother and his mysterious bedridden illness, about the sudden barrenness of his lands, and how he had preferred to make this trip alone rather than take away much-needed protection in case they tried again to invade them during his absence.

In her face there was no sorrow, annoyance or joy for their misfortunes, instead it was pure curiosity what he could see while he finished explaining the reason why he was looking for her.

"Okay, I'll go with you" she answered with conviction.

He, who had gradually regained mobility to the point where he could now sit up and the waves of heat attacked him insistently, looked at her in surprise, unable to avoid questioning her decision.

"I'll go with you" she confirmed again "However, the starting path is more dangerous than the one you traveled to get here, so you will have to make a full recovery first" She stood up and looked at him “I cannot be away for long, this place depends on me, so I will help your people and leave immediately, it is my only condition”

He watched her, almost denying immediately that he could leave that easily, but he was quick enough to bite his tongue before speaking.

"Okay, then we have a deal" he agreed.

She nodded pleased and stood up, walking away from him and up a tiny hill where she began to press with her fingers the closed buds and the withered flowers that surrounded her, opening and coming back to life with the simple touch of her.

Despite having accepted, in his mind they only danced ways of how he would interrupt her departure, it would be very foolish of him to let her go that easy, a person with her abilities, whether witch or not, was unique, one in a million , and no self-respecting kingdom would let her go that easily.

He could try to convince her by showing her everything that she obviously didn't have in her "garden", the wonders of modernity, and if that couldn't convince her, well, he had dungeons at his disposal that he could trick her into or even without them, but surely he would not lose those abilities from his hands.

Satisfied with that plan, he began to touch the back of both of his hands, searching and removing the splinters that he did not know how he has nailed himself.

Even though Hinata's tonics were helping him recover faster than he normally would, it felt like it was actually taking forever.

There, the days and nights seemed to last longer than normal, as if the clock had 36 hours instead of 24.

Each remedy that Hinata gave her were different and she healed something different, like the one she used to make his bruises disappear, which were a combination of wild flowers and citrus fruits that melted in the water as soon as she created them and released. Those bruises that would normally take a week or more to fade, she had done it in almost three days.

The problem is that she could only give him a tonic for one thing at a time, along with the first one that she had given him so his body relaxes and rests.

Now he was drinking one that she claimed would help with his internal ailments, and he guessed she was referring to the bruised bones that barely allowed her to walk or breathe. This was particularly bitter and she had to take it several times a day, which was a mini torture considering that these wounds would take even longer to heal.

He was washing his armor when he heard her scream.

“No! Go away, you can't be here!”

His skin prickled when she heard it. Had someone entered that place? An ally or an enemy? The great snake that was supposed to be the only one that could make someone else reach that place, Munda, hadn't moved from the rock it had spread on the day before, almost looking dead if it weren't for the hiss it left escape from time to time, maybe someone had found a way to enter without facing the great reptile?

“No! Get away!”

Wasting no time he dropped the piece of armor he was washing into the water and instead grabbed his sword, gripping it tightly and ran - or rather, he limped quickly - looking beyond the trees and bushes until he saw her midnight hair, covered with small flowers of various colors, and he went quickly towards her, who kept her fists clenched and her arms stiff down, slapping the floor with one foot while she kept yelling at whoever was there to leave.

But as he got closer to her, he still couldn't see anyone else; maybe it was some invisible person? It would not be unreasonable to think about that.

Finally, when he got to her side, he saw whoever caused her annoyance.

"This… creature…" she began, making an exasperated gesture with her hand at the wild boar that nonchalantly ate the blackberries from the orchard it raided "This annoying creature won't go away!" I've tried everything but it keeps coming back”

He looked at her in disbelief.

“So much fuss over a wild boar?”

“Is this the name of this demon spawn?” She asked him, looking at him intensely "Do you know him?"

"It's a wild boar, there are hundreds of them in the forest" he said more calmly, dismissing the accusation of her previous question.

“Hundreds?!” She gasped in disbelief.

"Calm down, just ... get rid of him."

“I´ve tried it! But this ... boar keeps coming back”

He let out an exasperated sigh, thinking of suggesting of making her pet snake eat the animal, but dismissed the idea as he thought the reptile was pretty useless when it don´t came to attacking and killing unsuspecting humans and their horses near the plateau of stone.

Since he first woke up he had only seen it move a few inches and change position, so another idea occurred to him.

“Can you hold it?” He asked him “with your ivy?”

She looked at him curiously and suspiciously, but instead of answering vocally, she raised a hand and made a few short movements with her fingers before clenching her fist, catching the animal that began to screech in panic.

He approached it, and with a certain movement, cut off it head.

When he heard her loud gasp he looked back and there she was, her brows furrowed, her eyes staked and both of her hands covering her mouth.

He looked back at the now dead animal, grabbed it head and raised it before asking.

“Do you know fire?”

Sasuke sat on a rock while at the same time bringing the now cooked boar meat to his mouth, biting off a large chunk and tearing it from the rest so he could eat it.

Sitting on another rock on the other side of the bonfire he had made, Hinata found herself with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed, looking at him with such intensity as if she wanted to make his head explode with just her powerful gaze.

She was upset with him, that was clear. Since he had killed the animal and cut its meat into smaller portions so he could stick them into branches and put them on the fire to cook.

The turning point, however, was when he gathered branches and leaves and started the fire that he had surrounded with rocks of different sizes as a barrier so that the fire did not spread.

Apparently, she could forgive him for killing an animal even if she was clearly against it, but lighting wood and using leaves as a burning material was where she drew the line, practically declaring enmity at the prolonged silence she had maintained.

It was funny to tell the truth, even if preparing that meat and the dressing he had bathed it with to give it a little more flavor had been torture for his sprained wrist, it was worth it if I could see her normally relaxed and smiling face distorted with annoyance and disappointment, her lower lip sticking out childishly.

Furthermore, and despite the wide variety of fruits she had been feeding him - more delicious than he had ever eaten - he had really missed the taste of meat on his palate.

“Hey!” He called her even though it wasn't necessary, since she hadn't taken her gaze from him for a second. "Try a little" he said, spreading some meat even though he was too far for her to reach.

That scandalized her.

“I will not do it!” She vigorously refused, looking quite offended by his proposal “I'm not a savage!”

"Me neither" he said, shrugging even though he wanted to burst in laughs at her expression.

“You are eating a living being”

“You eat the children of your plants, but I don't judge you for doing that”

The expression on her face finally overcame him, making him laugh.

With difficulty and care, he rose to his feet and walked around the fire, sitting next to her and extending with his good hand the piece of meat he himself had previously been eating.

"Try a little" he repeated, but she pursed her lips and turned her face away, refusing.

“No, I do not like”

"You can't say you don't like it if you haven't tried it yet" he told her, repeating the words his mother had repeated so much to the fussy eight-year-old he was.

But she kept refusing, so he took another approach they used to use with him when he was especially difficult to feed: negotiation.

"How about this" he began “If you try a little of this, I promise I won't complain and take all your strange meds even if they taste like hell itself, you don't have to like it, just try a little”

She looked at him scrutinizingly, apparently looking for some kind of dishonesty, but he just brought his injured wrist to the center of his abdomen, in a well-camouflaged dirty little manipulative move, which he knew was working when she looked at his wrist and then again to in his eyes.

“Just a little?” He nodded "And will you take the medicine without complaining?" He affirmed again.

Hinata closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out again in the form of a long sigh.

She opened her eyes again, now with a look of determination and nodded.

He smiled and brought the meat to her mouth.

“W-wait!” she yelled, holding his wrist.

He was really having a hard time not laugh again.

Without letting go his wrist, she barely opened her mouth and bit into some of the meat, chewing it and stopping after swallowing it.

He looked at her expectantly, watching as she frowned again and sudden tears began to fall from her eyes.

Was it really that bad?

He began to feel guilty for forcing her to do so, but he was surprised when she now took a bigger bite, taking the meat from his hand to grab it herself, saying between sobs

"It's good!" she sniffed and cried harder as she ate more of it.

________________________

That night he woke up because of the pain that attacked his healthy wrist, grunting and looking for the reason for that, and when he looked at it, he was surprised and out of breath to see how a bracelet of branches wrapped him, which would not be a problem if it was not for the fact that they seemed to come straight out of his skin.

________________________

Another few days passed and he had kept thinking a lot about his situation.

Due to his suspicions, he decided to do an experiment.

For a few days he stayed especially close to her, touching her skin with his fingertips in the most subtle way he could, leading him to offer help during the moments when she did her self-imposed tasks that were not really necessary - there was not much to entertain herself with, he supposed — and despite confusion at his sudden need to help, she agreed and directed him what to do, frustrating him when any of those tasks kept him away from her.

But at the end of the day he touched her enough without going overboard - tapping her shoulder to get her attention or patted it awkwardly as he congratulated her with a "good job" - and then he walked away from her and went to the makeshift cot she had created for him, leaving her more confused than at first.

The first night he waited awake for something to happen, for the branches to start coming out or for his skin to turn green, he wasn't entirely sure what could happen, but he waited.

And he received nothing.

He repeated the experiment several more times and nothing happened, so he thought maybe it was a side effect of the last potion she had given him to drink? It would make sense that his body is no longer producing more vegetation by changing the type of medicine she was giving him, and it would also make sense that she did not know that effect as something out of the ordinary, since her own body seemed to produce by itself the plants that dressed her.

Then he forgot the topic, classifying it as a one-time occurrence.

Until he wasn't.

That morning, when he no longer had any kind of ailment and was beginning to feel he was finally regaining his strength, he had helped Munda - who, he learned, was really peaceful when he was not protecting the entrance to that garden - to get rid of the little debris that had stuck to him after his last shedding of skin.

"Good work," Hinata said, patting him on the shoulder as best she could since he was significantly taller than her “Munda's shedding of skin is usually a disaster because it is more resistant than normal, so I always have a hard time cleaning it when it's in season” she revealed, now with her hand fixed on his shoulder “you are very good at that”

He accepted her congratulations with a small hint of pride on her chest.

They passed the day with normally, and at night, while taking a bath in the lake, a sudden pain attacked his shoulder.

When he tried to move his shoulder in circles, he couldn´t, the pain and stiffness prevented him from the slightest movement, then he brought his other hand over said shoulder to try to massage himself, but when he felt his fingers prick, He stopped.

Surprised, he looked at his shoulder and couldn't believe what he saw: it was covered in thorns right where Hinata had touched it.

The fire of anger ignited in him and spread like forest fire, was that it? Her hands? Were her hands causing his body to produce leaves and thorns as if it were a simple plant? Although, now that he thought about it, he had been a fool not to realize it before, after all, she was nothing more than a witch whose hands could grow trees and flowers out of nowhere.

He had been fooled. He had let his guard down and this witch was turning him into another plant in her garden.

Who many more had she done this to?

He looked at the surrounding trees for the hint that any of them were once a man, but he had done his job so well that there was not the slightest trace of a previous humanity in them.

Angry, he left the lake and put on his pants, not caring they were dirty and dusty from the activities he had done that day. He dressed in his armor and took the sword with him, searching for Hinata and finding her, as always, in the center of the small flower-covered hill that surrounded her.

His quick and heavy steps caught his attention, turning and smiling at him when she saw him approaching, but that expression quickly changed when he entered, stepping carelessly on the flowers that she loved so much.

"Sasuk ..!"

"In two days we will leave," he interrupted, placing the sword under her chin and applying enough pressure so the tip dug lightly into her neck, hurting her “I have already lost a lot of valuable time with your stupid games, as of today, I command”

He turned around without giving her the opportunity to speak and went to the farthest part of that garden, where he found what seemed to be the oldest tree of all, the most leafy, where he sat down and pressed his back against it, crossing his arms with his sword still in his hand, quickly creating in his mind all the logistics of what he would do next.

______________________

The desperate neighing of Onyx woke him up.

He hadn't realized when he had fallen asleep, but it seems as if the apocalypse had taken place once he closed his eyes.

He blinked, trying to clear the blurry view of him until everything was terrifyingly sharp.

In front of him, Onyx kept crying, rising on his hind legs and then dropping the front legs in heavy blows, kicking up the dust with each fall.

It was daytime, he could tell, but the whole environment was so bleak that his brain had a hard time understanding it.

He looked around him, all the space that had previously been green and colorful had turned to the darkest gray he had ever seen. The trees shed their leaves at an impressive speed, the same ones that were now on the ground, surrounding him.

He tried to take one, but the blades were so brittle they broke with the simple touch.

"Onix, take it easy" But the horse ignored him; instead, he whinnied louder as if urging him to stop and then ran, leaving him behind.

He walked carefully, looking everywhere: the bushes were dry but still held some of their fruits, of which he took one and put it in his mouth only to spit it out instantly, disgusted by the horrible taste of the previously delicious blackberry had taken. As he walked, a foul stench began to fill his nostrils, aggravating the closer he got to the lake, until he realized that was where it came from. The waters, previously clean and clear, were now as black and thick as tar.

What was happening?

It didn't take long for him to find the cause.

Still on the small hill was Hinata, motionless and with her head bowed, the flowers around her were wilted. Munda surrounded the hill, making a great circle with its whole body, as trying to be a wall of protection for her owner.

The great snake gave him a warning hiss, glaring at him, now with both of its healthy eyes, as if it was challenging him to come closer.

Even with the threat of the reptile, he did, he knew how protective he was, but he had learned that in here Munda was more like a puppy playing at being brave than the gigantic and terrifying snake really was.

Already within the circle of protection of him everything was more horrible, here the flowers were not withered, and instead they seemed burned. Hinata's body remained immobile, not even seemed to breathe, and when he surrounded her and was face to face with her, he was surprised by the horrible state that in just a few hours she had gotten.

Her skin was as gray as the rest of the earth, her previously pink lips were now dangerously close to black, almost all the flowers in her hair and crown had lost their petals and the ones that remained would fall at any moment. Her eyes were open and she kept them that way, without blinking, and the only sign that told him there was still life in her was the trail of tears that fell without stopping.

He crouched in front of her and called out, but he didn't get the slightest bit of recognition from her.

He grabbed her face and winced at the ease of movement he had from her, even if her body seemed stiffer than could be possible.

Then the dark green trail that fell from her throat to her abdomen caught his eye, and he felt as if he had been hit with the strongest metal as he remembered what he had done.

Was this his fault?

"Hinata," he called her, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes, which seemed to be empty. "Hinata, I'm sorry."

But his attempts were in vain because she did not respond or make the slightest movement that indicated she would do it at some point.

Desperation began to fill him and he didn't know what to do, stroking her face and trying to wipe the tears away, but they kept falling and instead, sliding over and around his thumbs, mocking his unsuccessful attempts to stop them.

Then, in a moment of utter despair he did something he had only thought would happen in his dreams, and kissed her.

His lips froze over the cold, chapped of hers, and all ambient sound that he had previously not actively noticed disappeared. He made no move, just stood with his lips joined, praying inside his mind for a reaction, until her lips trembled.

One sob left them, then two, until it was totally a symphony of wailing.

He hugged her and pressed her to his chest, quietly apologizing to her and preferring to hear her cry than remain in the deathly silence of moments ago.

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

Recovery was slower than he could have imagined. While it took less than one night to produce the disaster, fixing it was a matter of a long time.

She avoided talking to him and he couldn't blame her, not after all that he´d caused.

She was just getting back to her normal color and at the same time so did her garden, slowly returning to the green it was when he had arrived.

He hadn't given her a reason for his action in the first place, and he didn't think he'd do it sometime soon - never, if he could.

He just helped her silently, discovering that when he kissed her, she recovered a little more.

So he kept doing it, morning, afternoon and evening, until the pink on her cheeks appeared and the flowers in her hair began to bloom.

That, however, came at a price, and it didn't take long for him to realize that the mere touch was more powerful than that of her fingers.

It first reflected on his nails, which turned brown and their textures became like that of a tree trunk. Then on his chest, where leaves and thorns came out again.

It was a much faster process than he had thought.

"I think we can leave tomorrow" were the first words she spoke to him after days of silence, smiling shyly at him, speaking in a low voice.

He nodded as best she could, his neck stiff from the changes taking place in him.

That day his feet stuck to the ground, and pulling them off felt as if he had lost a limb.

"Sasuke" Hinata called him the next morning, worried about what she was seeing. "Since when has this been happening?"

He looked at her, but he didn't answer.

He was still lying on his grass cot, trapped by the ivy that had tightly encircled his arms, torso, and legs to keep him in place.

"Wait." The desperation in Hinata's voice was palpable, but he could barely recognize anything.

With her hands, Hinata touched the plants on top of him, but was surprised to see that instead of obeying her and disappearing, they seemed to tighten around Sasuke.

She looked at her hands without understanding what was happening and tried again, her eyes clouding over as she obtained the same result as the first time.

The tears left her eyes and the sobs soon appeared the more she tried and failed, becoming more energetic and miserable with every second more.

"Hinata," he called out, barely a hoarse whisper as he felt a new plant grow from his stomach and slide its roots through his esophagus, slowly exiting his mouth "There is no time for me…”

“Do not!" She shouted shakily" Don't say that!”

“S. Save them ... my people ...” he said, barely breathing.

"I-I will, but-but first ..." A sob interrupted her "you first..."

Sasuke wanted to deny, but he had neither the strength nor the mobility to do so.

"There ... there is ... no time for ... me" he repeated.

“Sasuke”

“Please”

Without finding the words to answer him, she just nodded.

Sasuke smiled and looked at her, grateful as a single tear slid down the side of his face as more roots came out of his mouth.

"Thank you" he said, his voice cracking, closing his eyes, "I lo ..."

But he couldn't finish his sentence, losing the last breath he had and finally letting the roots slide out of his mouth and dig into the ground beneath him.

A heartrending scream came from Hinata's mouth, the loss, for the first time in hundreds of years, completely ripping her apart.

She cried over his body, feeling a pain much worse than that of a few days ago completely invade her, feeling again how she was fainting rapidly.

But she still had one last promise to keep.

Unwilling to leave him, Hinata placed both hands on the ground and gathered all of her strength, screaming as she transferred her power beyond the forest, filling all around with the life that he had come looking for.

The earth shook and great thorny walls rose above all of her garden, joining in the center without closing completely, and leaving a small gap through which the sunlight entered.

Exhausted, she walked to where Sasuke's body lay covered in roots and she dropped down beside him, placing a hand on his chest, slowly closing her eyes and melting into him.

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

From the highest tower of the Uchiha castle, the cries of the courtesans invaded the room of King Itachi, whose body was covered by a white sheet as his court surrounded him.

"You did it, my king," Kakashi whispered, watching from the window as the kingdom began to fill with the vivid green of the growing plants and the colorful buds of flowers and fruit that followed them, though his attention was really fixed on the large bud that it had formed in the farthest part of the forest.

While, at the gates of the kingdom, Onyx the steed without his king arrived.

@sasuhinamonth

#sasuhina month #sasuhinamonth2021 #day 5 #sasuhina #queen of the garden #theres a spanish vertion #but im not publishing it here #too long

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ask-the-riders · 3 years

Text

War’s New Friend

War happens to stumble upon a resident of the riders’ timeline that no one knows about, and while he seems peaceful enough, he reeks of death and she can’t understand a single word he says

((I used a translator for him, since he’s Danish. The translator can be found here, hopefully it’s accurate ^^” all the translations will be underneath the blurb. Also, I’m gonna offer a warning for implied abuse in part of the beginning))

The glitch let out a deep sigh, hugging her knees close to her chest as she sat. She quietly looked out over the pond before her, her thoughts drifting from one subject to another. She'd found a total of nine different ponds in the long forgotten caves of Waterfall, one of which was large enough to be considered a lake, and she'd deemed this particular one her favorite. She wasn't sure why, but something just felt... Different, about it. Her thoughts drifted to the dream she'd had recently; She recognized the tree of feelings and the set of tiny twins that sat together beneath it, but that wasn't what the dream was mostly about. She remembered the human child she saw in it and frowned. He'd burst out of his home in tears, a large patch of reddening skin on his face. She recalled the way he isolated himself, his dark, curly hair an absolute mess atop his head as he slipped his body into a long dead and hollowed out tree. He'd curled in on himself and sobbed, his speech incoherent as he babbled to himself, and War's frown deepened. Remembering the way she used to hide from Error when she was a child, her soul ached. In watching the child, she could see herself. She pitied him, and if she could go back in time to help him, she knew she would. No child deserved to feel that way, and they certainly didn't deserve to live the way that he did.

A noise got the rider's attention, pulling her back into the current moment. Hearing what vaguely sounded like a splash, she looked around, her brow bones furrowing as she tried to locate the source of the noise. When she saw nothing, she made a face; Well that was weird. She convinced herself that it was probably nothing, but then she abruptly froze, her nonexistent stomach turning as the stench of death came from something nearby. Tugging her scarf up over her face in hopes of filtering out the smell, she grumbled under her breath. Alright, that was even weirder. What in the world could possibly be giving off such an odor?

Another sound that was similar to growling could be heard directly behind her and she whirled around, nearly slipping off of the rock she'd been sitting on. Unable to identify the face she was looking up at, she lashed out, producing her threads and quickly ensnaring the person that'd crept up on her. He was momentarily caught off guard, but then tilted his head, groaning softly and lightly tugging at the threads, as if testing their strength. Still trying to use her scarf to filter out the stench that he brought with him, she narrowed her eyes, "Ok, who the hell are you, and what are you doing, creeping around in these caves?" Shifting his attention back to her, his head remained tilted and he stared in silence. War made a sound in irritation, tightening her threads around him, "Well?! Don't you have anything to say for yourself, weirdo?" The undead man before her held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Hej, ikke så stram! Slap af, lille. Jeg mener ikke nogen skade!" The glitch paused at finally hearing him speak, and she arched a brow bone, "...Can you even understand what I'm saying to you?" He tugged at her threads again, his expression going blank after a moment, "Slip mig lige nu, ellers klikker jeg på alle disse strenge." War rolled her eye lights, "Whatever, dude. I'm gonna let go of you now, but if you take one more step closer to me, I'll end you. You got that? Stay. Away. From. Me."

He grumbled something under his breath and she reluctantly released her hold on him. He flexed his arms once they were freed, a sickening popping sound coming from his joints and making the rider gag. Trying to brush off the effect the sound had on her, she cleared her throat, "So... You got a name? What the hell am I supposed to call you?" He was silent for a moment, seeming to consider something before responding, "Hvorfor betyder det noget, hvis jeg har et navn? Jeg er død." War made a face, "Fine, fine. I guess I'll have to call you 'Stankass' then, huh? Until we figure something out, at least." The dead man furrowed his brows and frowned, "Tænk ikke engang på det." War stared at him for a few seconds, "...If you can understand me, hold one finger up." The man let out a deep sigh and grumbled, "Skal jeg?" War pinched the bridge of her nose, "Y'know what? Never mind. Forget I asked." Looking down at her, he arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement crossing his expression. Catching it, the rider deadpanned, "...You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" He fell silent, allowing his amusement to become clearer than before, and in response, War let out an exaggerated groan, "Unbelievable. Before you frustrate me any more, I think I'm gonna go home. Seeya later, Stankass." Turning her back to him, she began to walk away, ignoring his confusion as he watched her. A few seconds passed before she narrowed her eyes, feeling a presence directly behind her.

Her pace came to a halt and she turned, appearing not the slightest bit surprised as she looked at him. Noticing that he'd started following her, she made a face, "You have to stay here, dude. You can't follow me." Once again tilting his head, he furrowed his brows, "Men... Du ville være alene da, og børn bør ikke rejse alene." The glitch stared up at him and hummed, "I can't understand you, deadhead. You have to stay here though, you'll freak out everyone at the house." She turned her back to him again without another word and started to walk, only to be abruptly stopped. Looking back, she spotted one of his hands grasping part of her shirt, and she narrowed her eyes, shifting her gaze to him, "...I said no, Stankass. You stay, I go. It's simple. Now, let go of my shirt." He grunted, hesitantly releasing her shirt after a moment. Realizing that he'd done as she asked, she spun around to face him, one hand balled into a fist while she raised the other and pointed, her hand directly in front of his face, "You are SUCH a little shit, oh my god! I KNEW you could understand me!" Rather than responding, he merely scooped her up into his arms, "Jeg vil også gå. Når du kommer sikkert hjem, forlader jeg og vender tilbage til min dam." War's cheekbones flushed a bright shade of midnight blue and she nearly screeched, "What do you think you're doing?! Put me down, bastard!" No sooner had she started struggling, had he narrowed his solid white eyes at her and growled lowly.

Hearing the sound, War froze, her sockets widening until they were nearly the same size as small saucers. Satisfied with her reaction, he began to walk, keeping her close to himself. Concluding that he wouldn't be letting her down anytime soon, she began to consider using a shortcut. Would that even work, though?... He'd snuck up behind her without producing even a single sound, and if it wasn't for the way he smelled, she might not have even sensed him standing there. He didn't seem at all threatened by her threads either when she caught him; If anything, he just seemed surprised. Once his surprise had passed, he was completely calm and confident, without even a trace of fear or uncertainty.

She had no idea what he was capable of. For all she knew, he might be able to teleport after her.

"Fortæl mig, hvor jeg skal hen." Being pulled from her thoughts, she sighed; She had no idea what he'd just said, but if he was really so insistent on going with her, she might as well give him directions. Caving, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to his shirt, trying to make herself feel more secure, "Keep going. We need to exit the cave and get out onto the main pathway." He nodded, falling silent as he continued walking. The rider glanced around, her figure glitching in surprise as her phone went off, playing a text message alert sound. Shifting slightly in the dead man's arms, she dug into one of her pockets and withdrew her phone. Unlocking it and opening the message, she let out a soft breath. Ah. It was a message from Famine, asking if she'd be home in time for dinner. War took a moment to consider how she'd respond. Deciding on a good response, she typed her message out and sent it. It wasn't long before he texted back, but she chose to stuff her phone back into her pocket. At the speed they were currently moving, she desperately prayed they'd reach the house as soon as possible. Realistically, she'd probably make the undead weirdo put her down just outside the edge of the property. Then, since his scent would undoubtedly cling to her now, she'd use magic to conceal it. Famine had the best nose out of the group, so it'd be him that she'd have to try the hardest to slip by. Furrowing her brow bones, she stayed quiet, continuing to observe her surroundings. She knew her new companion likely couldn't help the way he smelled, so she didn't blame him for it. Being so close to him though... No thanks. She tugged her scarf up over the lower half of her face again. At this rate, she'd need to run a load of laundry and shower. If she could find someone's perfume or cologne, she'd also be spraying herself down with that. Whatever it took to get the stench of death and decay off of herself, she'd do it.

A moment passed in silence before her new companion spoke, his voice gruff and low, “Draug.” The glitch looked up at him curiously, arching a brow bone, “…What?” He glanced at her and continued walking, raising his voice the smallest bit. “Draug. Jeg hedder Draug.” She stared at him, dumbfounded and unsure what to say. Seeing the look on her face, he deadpanned; Was she seriously making him go through this right now? Letting out a deep sigh, he shifted her in his arms and used a hand to pat his chest, “Draug. Jeg er Draug.” War furrowed her brow bones again, “…Draug?” He gave a quick and eager nod, gesturing to himself, “Draug!” The rider tilted her head, “I’m guessing that’s your name?” Nodding again, he made a sound in confirmation, “Det er.” She blinked, momentarily seeming surprised, “…Huh. I didn’t think you’d actually tell me. If we’re finally doing introductions, my name’s War.” Her undead companion glanced at her curiously, “Krig?... Dit navn er krig?” War made a face, unsure of how she should respond, “Uhh… How do you say ‘War’ in your language?” Draug looked at her blankly, “Krig.” She blinked, “Oh. Ok then. I guess that’s pretty simple.” If he had pupils and irises, Draug would’ve made sure she could see him rolling his eyes at her. She cleared her throat, “Do you think you’d be willing to learn how to speak English?… I feel like it’d be easier to communicate if I could understand you the way that you understand me. I could even try to help you, if you wanted.”

Draug hummed in consideration; She had a point. Communication would definitely be easier if she could understand him. He sighed softly and nodded, “Jeg vil prøve at lære engelsk, men kun hvis du prøver at lære dansk også.” Although she wasn’t sure what exactly he said, she registered his nod as acceptance and glanced away from him, almost appearing awkward, “Cool, cool… Thanks, dude. I appreciate that.”

~~~

Translations:

"Hej, ikke så stram! Slap af, lille. Jeg mener ikke nogen skade!" = "Hey, not so tight! Calm down, small one. I don't mean any harm!"

"Slip mig lige nu, ellers klikker jeg på alle disse strenge." = "Release me right now, or else I'll snap all of these strings"

"Hvorfor betyder det noget, hvis jeg har et navn? Jeg er død." = "Why does it matter if I have a name? I'm dead."

"Tænk ikke engang på det." = "Don't even think about it."

"Skal jeg?" = "Do I have to?"

"Men... Du ville være alene da, og børn bør ikke rejse alene." = "But... You would be alone then and children should not travel alone."

"Jeg vil også gå. Når du kommer sikkert hjem, forlader jeg og vender tilbage til min dam." = "I want to go too. When you get home safely, I'll leave and return to my pond."

"Fortæl mig, hvor jeg skal hen." = "Tell me where I'm going."

“Jeg hedder Draug.” = “My name is Draug.”

“Draug. Jeg er Draug.” = “Draug. I’m Draug.”

“Det er.” = “It is.”

“Krig?... Dit navn er krig?” = “War… Your name is War?”

“Jeg vil prøve at lære engelsk, men kun hvis du prøver at lære dansk også.” = “I will try to learn English, but only if you try to learn Danish too.”

#writing #war.exe #draug.exe #tw implied abuse #feel free to let me know if any of the translations are wrong!#riderverse #riderverse au #undertale #undertale au #riders of the apocalypse #four horsemen of the apocalypse

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monst · 4 years

Text

Usagiyama Rumi (Mirko) x Reader

Warnings again: Death, Dub/con, Reanimation, Necrophilia, Greif, shower sex

Inspired by: Stephen King’s “Pet Sematary.”

Enjoy!

The sight of the vacant apartment slapped you in the face, the force of it leaving you breathless forcing your legs to collapse upon themselves. You laid slumped against the wooden door frame for a while letting the events of the day repeat in your head. You clutched your head, furious fingers gripping onto your shaking skull as you tried to forget. But the images flashed behind your eyes all too quickly.

Her smile, the confidence she exuded when she hopped onto the crosswalk to pursue the thief, the sickening sound of- You clamped you hand over your mouth, you felt bile begin to rise up and you quickly stood on wobbly legs. You ran to the bathroom throwing the door opening with a loud slam, your fingernails digging under the toilet seat as you released a thick wad of phlegm. Your body trembled as you dry heaved into the still water below, your stomach cramped as you had nothing left in your body to remove.

You made the mistake of closing your eyes, crimson stained snowy strands the petrified screams of the truck driver piercing your ears. To escape it you dunked your head into the clear water below, bubbles slipping out of your mouth and nose as you screamed into the liquid. When your lungs could bear the lack of oxygen no longer you sat up, droplets of water slid down your neck and stained your already soiled shirt. Your eyes looked down at your palm and you squeezed it tightly remembering the limp hand that you had gripped just a couple hours ago.

Needless to say… You weren’t the same after her abrupt passing. You sauntered around aimlessly without your compass, complexion ghast and withered as you struggled to fit the jigsaw puzzles into their broken mold. Every night since you had begun to stay at work late, anything to leave the suffocating emptiness of your once shared apartment. You worked yourself raw, tired eyes drooping when you finally made it home. Your bed laid cold as sleep played a mischievous game of keep away. You could never remember when your eyes would slip shut, as you gazed longingly at what was once her side of the bed.

It was another grueling day when you received a phone call at work. You had wondered when they would call. It had been well over three weeks since the bunny hero’s passing and there was yet to be a funeral. As a government official her body had been kept in a private morgue, corpse moderately preserved as the state had wanted to conduct an autopsy. You just wanted her body back so that you could visit her grave, the higher ups wanted to run tests, they were sure foul play was involved, positive that she should have made it out of the way. You didn’t want to entertain the thought. ‘She was distracted.’

Regarding the call, they were finally releasing her body to you. Well to be precise they were releasing it to the public so that you along with her relatives and friends could hold a service. The beep of the call being hung up was all that it took for you to crumble. And as soon as you did you were given leave, you knew that your home would feel extremely desolate now that the sutures had been torn open, allowing your recent wound to bleed anew.

It was indeed fitting that the sky also wept along with you, the dull slate and muted blacks above expressing your deepest feelings. You stood just outside of the bus stop allowing the rain to seep into your clothes, allowing the weeping of the clouds to console your spirit by sapping away all warmth. Ironically enough the trembling of your chilled bones allowed you to feel closer to her, for she too was cold. You garnered odd stares as you let the first bus pass you by and the next, and the next.

Your body was numb, the dark sheet above you seemed to slink around you. The wispy clouds seemed to lower the ever present darkness manifesting itself outside of your soul. Dim lights began to twinkle in the ever growing black. Soon another bus stopped by the driver standing in front of the stop for much longer than needed.

“Hey? Are you alright?” He called out. There was a pause as you didn’t reply and he quickly added necessary information “This is the last bus of the night.”

That spurred movement and your frozen toes pained at the sudden movement. You slinked into the bus, steps slow and heavy. There weren’t many patrons on the vehicle allowing for an ample amount of choice on seating. You choose to stand, leaning against a cold pole that sapped whatever warmth remained on your cheek. You swayed with the movement of the bus, eyes closed as people passed you to step off on their stop. You had missed yours a couple minutes ago, you weren’t ready to face the empty apartment again.

The driver was beginning to grow nervous, you hadn’t moved and there were only three more stops left on his route and neither of those places had any close residence nearby. The man took a quick glance at your gaunt form, your somber expression inspiring curiosity.

“Bad breakup?” He asked with a slight chuckle. You shook your head. “Lost your job?” He tried again, you repeated the movement. “....Mourning?” He knew he had gotten it right when your head bowed to look down at the worn floor. “Oh….I’m..I’m sorry for your loss.”

He didn’t speak again but he did see the last person on the bus get up. It was an eldrly woman he saw from time to time. One who always smiled at him as she got off a stop before the end of the route. He wondered why she was always there so late into the night, but he recalled his boss telling him not to engage in conversation with her and by all means to never allow someone to step off with her on her usual stop. HIs knuckles whitened as he gripped the wheel tighter, from his peripheral he noticed her hobble closer to you.

He could only make out the furrowing of your brows as she whispered to you, he couldn’t hear anything being said only that you were displeased with what she spoke. Your confusion turned to ire and at last a melancholic frown touched your lips. He saw you nod and despite not knowing why he was ordered not to let anyone off with her he felt his heart sink. Tears welled in his eyes as he somehow thought that you had made a terrible choice…. He considered passing the stop without stopping but the old woman pulled the cord and a dim yellow light illuminated his face.

The wrinkled face of the edlry woman smiled back at him, her small beady eyes curved up in such a menacing way that left his body cold. A deeply malicious glint flashed across her eyes as he slid the bus to a halt, the large vehicle hissed as it paused and reluctantly he opened the door. His heart pounded loudly in his chest as an overwhelming fear for your life bubbled inside of him and against his better judgement he turned away from the sight of you as the old lady guided you off the bus and into the night, he drove away wondering what would become of you.

The woman’s hand was cold, her bony fingers were practically crushing your hand in her deft grip as if she didn’t want you to somehow free yourself. Not that you were going to, in all honesty what she proposed was absolutely preposterous and you should be freeing yourself from the possibly senile woman’s grasp. The whole idea was ludacris, shrine gods bringing the dead to life! Ridiculous and yet you fell into step with her, maybe it was because you were impossibly cold, maybe you had gotten sick and your feverish body was impairing your thoughts.

Or maybe… Maybe you wanted for this to be true, who were you fooling? You desperately wanted to believe that there was some way to get your beloved back. You had walked with the woman for about ten minutes, the shabby shrine that was only just visible from the bus sign had grown larger with every step and soon you were standing upon the squishy soil surrounding the structure.

“It’s simple really.” The elderly lady croaked. “You bury the dead here in front and pray to the deity of the shrine, you ask her to revive the unmoving and then they get up, within them new life.” She breathed.

You felt your blood rush, and you quickly shook her grip off. Your breathing came in quick rapid pants as you took in the eerie building and felt your shoes sink further into the dirt. There was something off putting about it all and in the recesses of your mind you could hear a voice telling you to run, to get as far away from there as possible. The shrine seemed alive, the doors expanding in what looked like respiration. The old woman was gone.

Your head whipped around frantically, ‘She couldn’t have just disappeared?!’ panic began to settle in your bones as a gust of wind blew open the doors of the shrine a low sounding groan resounded throughout the area. You quickly turned only to see the pale wrinkling face of the old woman in front of you, her sagging skin seeming to drip off her bones like wax. Fear gripped your heart as you backed up, closer to the Shrine you noticed.

“Bring her body.” She mumbled. Your heart froze at the gravely tone “Bring her body.” She repeated as she grew closer, pieces of her melting flesh sliding off and sizzling on the ground below, it was then that it hit you. A smell so nauseating that you found your throat constricting in a gag, the putrid stench seemed to come from all around you and in your wild panic you pushed past her and ran. Tears picked at your eyes as you heard her howl one last time.

“b̷̾̄̄̓̑͐̏̐́̀͋͝͝r̷̖̬̱̣̮͖̆̾̀̇́̆i̴̯͔͑n̶̢̘̭͔̘̪͉̫͍̙̺̲̟͂ģ̴̢̨̩̻̲͖̠͚͍̜̼̔̍̅͜ͅ ̵̡̮̥̼̺͉̰̦̱͙͕͇̝͈̔̈́̈̅͊̈́̈́͌̀ḥ̴̯͍̣̯̖̀ẻ̴̫̞̹̪̼̲̒͋̇̂͆͋̾͐̋͝ŗ̸̧̛͖̺̹̙͍̥͆͆̿̑̀̎̃̅ ̷̢̧̜̠͖̭̦͙̺̄̒ͅb̴̛̹̉́̅́̚̚o̵̦͓̼̬͗̄͂̍̊͗̀̀̀̌̽̈́̀̈́͝d̴̢̗̩͇͕̮͓̭̳̳̒͜y̶̡̫͎͙̮̙̫͓̘͑͝ͅ”

To your surprise the bus was waiting at the stop, doors open and you didn’t hesitate and climbed inside hurriedly asking the driver to shut the door. He quickly did and then speeded away. You panted as you thought back on what occurred all the while the driver rambled on.

“I-I just couldn’t leave you back there, I-It felt wrong ya know?” You nodded in thanks and shook your head when he asked you about what had happened.

The following days went by in a blur as you tried to prepare for the funeral all the while trying to forget the horrific encounter. Sadly, the preparations only left you feeling more disheartened. The feeling only grew worse when you had met up with an old friend of hers. He was also a hero, a hero that should have been there the day of the incident. You couldn’t help the thoughts that raged war in your head. ‘If he had only been there, he was supposed to be there but even if he were, would he have been able to save her? Who cares if he’d had been there it would have been him getting hit...That would have really been the best outcome.’

You excused yourself early on into the meet up due to such negative thoughts. Hawks only smiled at you, his hand sliding into his lover's grasp as he said a well meaning ‘We’re here for you’. It was sickening, it was revolting and quite frankly it was downright unfair. Maybe that’s why you had gone back, maybe that’s why you plucked up the roadkill on your drive to the Shrine, maybe that’s why you were burying the dead creature in the loose soil. And although you felt silly you clasped your hands together hoping that the daylight didn’t affect the results.

You waited...and waited and- You sighed thinking yourself foolish for even thinking that it would work. You dusted off your hands on your clothes as you got up, you picked the dirt from between your fingers trying to rationalize the events of the night you first came here. ‘Maybe I didn’t see anything and just hallucinated it.’ You mused. You looked back at the Shrine, a scoff slipping past your lips, your heart feeling heavy at having your small inkling of hope crush- The door to the Shrine was open. You felt your breath catch in your throat as you made out a lone eye from within the small crack on the door.

The single orb filled you with dread, the beings irises were a coal black, it’s sclera of the same hue, it resembled a bottomless pit, a sinking void filled with underlying anger and malice, you saw a flash of white and your heart stuttered at the jagged smile of the creature. You were about to start hyperventilating when you felt something scurry between your legs. You yelped, your knees buckling as you tumbled to the ground. The racoon hissed at you as it ran off, and in the space where it had once been buried was a small hole….

You grunted, your muscles burning at the strain of the weight that you lugged. ‘Now I know why they call it dead weight.’ You thought as you struggled to lug the body bag towards the Shrine. You ignored the creaking of the doors and quickly unzipped the bag to reveal the corpse. Caramel skin was greeted by the pale moonlight long white lashes closed in what seemed like restful slumber. You caressed her swallow cheek, the skin moving and almost peeling at the movement. She hadn’t fully begun to decompose due to the chemical bath she was in but there were still signs of decomposition but luckily there wasn’t any putrefaction.

It wasn’t easy getting her body out of the funeral home but a quick switch with one of the unmarked bodies in the back had proven helpful, not to mention that you specifically asked for a closed casket viewing. Grinning at your quick wit you began to carefully remove her from the bag. You had already prepared a hole the previous day and without wasting a single moment you shimmed her body into it, you then began to pour the dirt onto her body making sure to cover each and every inch.

You kneeled before her submerged body and facing the dark Shrine you began to pray. The chilly night air seemed to pick up in speed as you did so and you scrunched your eyes in concentration waiting for your lover to rise. Seconds soon turned to minutes and minutes turned into a half-an hour then an hour and with every second you lost hope in this working. You were thinking about how you were going to explain that you stole her body when you felt the soil shift beneath you. You gasped in excitement and backed up to allow her room.

Your smile turned south when she began to writhe, pained growls emanating from her reanimating body. When she broke through to the surface a collection of bubbles had accumulated in her mouth, the white liquid bubbling down her chin. Her red eyes were but two ever shifting dots, her teeth bared as she hissed and whimpered.

“R-Rumi?” You stuttered. The sudden sound had her neck snapping towards you at an unnatural angle, she lifted herself onto all fours and arched her back like a feline growling at you while frothing at the mouth. She snapped her jaw in your direction her muscles tense, clearly she was ready to pounce. “H-Hey i-it’s me (N-Name), Remember.”

Her hostile eyes showed no signs of recognition as she pounced, her jaw connected with your forearm, her incisor digging into your soft flesh, You screamed at the cold tingle that raked your body when she pulled back. QUickly you saunted backwards, and she followed suit intent on harming you. Without thinking of it you rushed forwards into the mouth of the Shrine and closed the door. Her body came down on it repeatedly, she panted and made incomprehensible guttural noises as she slammed her body against the wooden door.

You pressed your body to the flimsy wood praying that it would hold. Tears dotted your vision as you tried not to puke from the repulsive stench in the Shrine. You kept your eyes shut, trying to ignore the rumbling chuckles of the creature and the violent hisses from what was the body of your lover. This went on for what felt like hours.

The invasive light of day was what woke you, and you had found that you had fell asleep leaning against the door, the creature that seemed to wear the skin of the old woman was fast asleep in a corner of the room and you were grateful that it had left you alone. Though you had no idea why it would, you weren’t going to question it and you hastily slipped out of the Shrine. You squinted as you looked for any signs of Mirko. The large hole was vacant and there was no sight of her. Hell you doubted that what rose was even her.

You searched all morning and even ventured into the surrounding forest only to find nothing, your limbs ached and you were beyond tired, you would look for your lover later. Right now you had to leave and get presentable to attend her funeral…

It was odd to attend a funeral knowing that the person who was supposed to be dead was wandering around the forest behind the Shrine. When people gave you their condolences you could only think about the rabid rabbit that hopped through the bushes in the woods… You needed to find her. You got to your apartment and quickly changed out of your dark funeral attire and redid the bandage of where she had bit down on you.

“I hope this doesn’t get infected.” You winced, when you stretched out your arm and continued to look around your apartment trying to find things to aid you. Her favorite snacks, a flashlight, a ball gag to stop her from biting you again… You were about ready to head out when you heard a tap on your window. The sound startled you, but you sauntered over to the window of the fire-escape and you froze in your tracks. She was there.

You were hesitant to let her in wondering if she was rational?? But the sight of seeing her red eyes lit with life had you undoing the latch and letting her in. She crawled in on all fours, her ears twitching awkwardly, she looked up at you from her crouch and tilted her head. “(Name).” She growled.

Tears sprung from your eyes, cascading down your cheeks and off your chin. She was back. Your Rumi was back. You crouched down and enveloped her into your arms, sobbing as you buried your nose into her hair. Her nails dug into the skin of your arms, she left scratches on your arms but you couldn’t care less. You had her back, you weren’t going to be alone, you weren’t going to hurt anymore.

It had taken a while but after a couple of days she was finally walking on two legs, her gait was still awkward but she was behaving more humanly every day. ‘She just needs time, she was dead for a while’ That was how you rationalized all her other...symptoms. Your snowy haired lover was much more violent than she had previously been and you had written it off as agitation for not being able to function like normal right off the bat….How wrong you were.

In observing you Mirko was finally able to perfect acting human and unbeknownst to you would sneak out while you slept. You were still hesitant to sleep in the same room as her therefore her nightly activities went on without you noticing. And it would have continued as such had you not gotten confident with her ‘Recovery’.

You were bundled up in your blankets, your eyes moving underneath your lids with sleep when she found that your room was finally unlocked. Quietly she turned the knob pushing the door open with a soft creak. Your body rose and fell with life as she went closer, her fingers curled underneath the sheets as she exposed your body to her sight. Her eyes zoned in on your neck and her strong fingers curled around the fragile area. She had climbed on top of you, the pads of her thumbs pressing into your soft throat. You had woken up with a start, your eyes blown wide, watching as she leered down at you.

Her pupils seemed to bleed into her irises tainting her ruby eyes a soulless black, once they covered up the vermillion the inky dark seeped into the whites of her eyes and your hands quickly went over hers to try to pry her fingers off you. A quick shout of her name and the black receded her red eyes looking down at you, surprise and harmful intent swirling in her bloody hues.

You knew something was incredibly wrong with your lover when you had gotten up for water late in the night. You were walking into the kitchen when you heard tiny snaps and a cringe worthy squelch. The smacking of lips and grotesque slurping followed and with your heart in your throat you dared a peek into the kitchen. You wished you could unsee it, she slurped the pink tail of a mouse like spaghetti, her teeth stained crimson, soulless black eyes turned towards you.

Those empty pits stared at you, she had paused her consumption and you feared that

you were next. Her empty eyes bore into yours and you stepped back slowly praying that she wouldn’t pounce. Every step backwards had your heart slamming against your ribcage, you let out a sigh of relief once you were in your room and the door was locked, but the eating sounds continued…

Rumi bagan leaving you ‘little’ gifts. And no matter how many locks you had on the doors and windows, and no matter how much sleeping pills you slipped her she always got out and when you’d wake there was a...gift. You had to lug the bodies out of your apartment in the dead of night. You knew bringing them to the shrine was a bad idea but you didn’t know where else to hide them. No one knew Rumi was alive and you mean to keep it that was least they find out..other things.

You wiped the sweat from your brow as you heaved yet another corpse to the door of the shrine. The shock of it had worn off long ago and had quickly become routine. You had basically become a slave for the ‘deity’ feeding it whatever Mirko killed. It was sickening but you put up with it because there were times in which Rumi was herself and that in and of itself was enough for you.

You took the bus back home, noticing that the ‘elderly lady’ was talking to another downtrodden person. “So how’s it going?” The chatty bus driver chirped, his eyes glaring at the interaction. To his relief the man shuffled away from the ‘thing’.

“Alright.” You sighed tiedly, hoping that there wasn’t another ‘surprise’ for you at home.

“You’ve been coming here a lot.” He pressed curiously.

“Yes, I know.” You left it at that and he quickly shut up waving you goodbye when you slipped out of the bus.

You walked into your apartment and kicked off your shoes. “Hey babe!” You tuned to see Rumi on the couch with a spoon hanging from her lips. You smiled glad that the being gifted you with the real thing for the night. You avoided her arms as she tried to grab onto you for cuddles.

“I’m dirty, Imma just shower real quick I’ll be right back.” You smiled, grabbing onto her warm hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. And you left to go do just that.

As you washed your body you had come to notice that whenever the ‘deity’ was fed you’d have a perfect Mirko. ‘It’s messed up but…’

“Babe~” You smiled when you felt Rumi’s hands glide over your body, her long silky hair laid wet and flat on her head as she stepped further into the water of the showerhead. Her strong arms curled around your neck, her full lips pressing against yours.

You gasped when she pulled away, her sneaky hand sliding down your slick body. Her lips seared kissed across the expanse of your neck, and you couldn’t help but sigh when her other hand cupped your breasts. She kneaded the pulpy flesh and the wicked fingers of her other hand working slow circles around your puffy clit.

Without warning she dipped her head down to catch a perky nipple in between her teeth. You could only lean against the wall, your fingers buried into her hair as you encouraged her to continue.

“Ah~ R-Rumi~” You panted, your face warming up as she began to suck on your hardened buds, her fingers putting more pressure on your clit, the slippery slick of your pussy making it easy for her to toy with you. You had the urge to kiss your lover and your hands slipped under her chin to bring her face up to your lips. But when she looked up at you, you froze.

Inky black pools stared up at you, and you saw her pink tongue swipe across her lips, your breath caught in your throat at the empty sockets. A grin crawled onto her features and she parted her lips to speak.

“Ī̶͎͕̰̤̙̠̻̂͒̔̈̑̓̓̆͌́͐̎̒̽s̴̨̞̼̙̥̤̣̭̼̰̦͕̠͚͉͌̒ ̷̨̧͙͕͉̩̗̱͚̲̩̀́͛̃̓̃̏̊̎̎̅͝͝͠s̵̨̨̨̛̛̤̭̗͎̜̺̤̫̗͆̈́̇̿̂̔͝ơ̷̘̦̲̮̰̘͈͉̯̥̺̌͊̑̊̀̋̑̒͑̚͜͜͝͠m̸̯̖͑̈́͐̿̈́̉͛̀̅́ẻ̷͔͈̼̝͖̠̼͇͙͎̑́̑͜ͅt̸̯̜̤̜̹̹̩̫͈̮͗͋̓͊̾͗͠͝h̷̛̙̗͂̔̎́͑̚ì̶͚̈͒̀̏̌͠͠͝n̶̨̢̥͉̱͚̟̣̮͆̓̈́̌̌͒͆̅̑͆̓̉ǵ̶̛̛̫̼̟̈̆̎̓̑́͐̓̑̓̕͝ ̶̺̉͊̕͜w̵͇͍̓̎̽̀̋̿͗̽̃̅̑͐͘͜r̶͎̳̼̰̰̐̍̐ǫ̵̡̛͖̥͈̣͍̣̙̼̪͌͐̃̓͛̓̂͘n̶̖͔̝͖̱̺̬͓̜̒̂͌ͅg̷̝̠̼̫̓̉?̷̲̝͕̤̮̇̒̾͒͒͋̽̋̃͆̇̈”You shook your head with a smile, your lips colliding with hers.

“No.”

#frightober 2020 #rumi usagiyama x reader #Mirko x reader #mirko smut #rumi usagiyama smut #mirko x reader smut #bnha scenarios #bnha smut

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skepticaloccultist · 4 years

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The Mirror of the Landscape

I thought I would offer this article on landscape magic from the first issue of FOLKWITCH as a public offering this Solstice. May the sun burn bright and the bonfires burn brighter on the hills of your ancestors.

"The Mirror of the Landscape" Eldred Wormwood

The realm of the witch is defined by their interactions with that natural world in which they exist. From the dawn of mankind’s attempts to harness the power of magic we have relied on the subtle web of our interactions with the world “beyond the veil.” That mirror of the landscape in which we read our fortunes and prophecy our circumstance.

Yet little direct attention has been paid to the role that the landscape plays in the practice of witchcraft in the annals of so called occult scholarship. Much has been said about the how of practical magic and ritual, but very rarely do we hear of the why or where.

The landscape, that terrain in which you exist every moment of the day. From the dew covered foggy mountain bottoms to the industrial park urban sprawl the landscape surrounds us. It is the plane of reality in which we live.

You bleed into the ground. Feed the soil with your sweat and tears. Drink from the well that fills from its water table, your body becomes one with the place you inhabit. The landscape and the body are part of the system, the inextricable network of interrelated particles that make up evolving life on earth.

Most humans, mundanes without the perception to see the world for what it is, simply go about the actions of living life in survival mode. Take what they need, give what they must, eat, sleep and eventually die. But the witch sees the world at a resolution differently than most, looks at those shadows that others ignore, sees the light through the trees as more than random, holds on to the language of pattern.

The witch reads the world like a book of secrets, the landscape a story of evolving ideas that we grasp and understand. The clouds like a language, the whisper of the wind through trees, the way that puddles of rain reflect the sky - a signal we come to understand.

Your nose knows the way it seems, a deep sensor of quantum mechanics it feels like a finger into the cloud of potentiality that is the future, guiding you through the fog of possibility until you reach your goal along the path. The nose knows, if only you could speak its subtle language.

Mankind has always existed in the landscape, even in our futile attempts to control it. We are primates, who lived among forests and grass plains so recently that rivers remember when there were no cities. We are part of the natural world, whether we realize it or not. The witch is merely aware of this fact, and that knowledge creates an open state of knowing.

The landscape itself is a sound system, filled with the reverberations of not merely the events that have unfolded in this river of time, but the echos of other rivers descending in a swirling madness of never and always, meting out punishment when needed to teach the seeker a lesson in humility.

The mass of forms on the surface of the earth create chambers that capture the sounds and energies created by living things. These echos are the ancestors, speaking across the illusion of time to teach us the way toward the future. The beat in the echo of space like a drum in a forest, like a stolen P A in a Detroit warehouse.

From the time before written words we had strove to gain a foothold in this primordial state. Abrahamic religions even cite our fall from this world of perception, though go on to ban anyone who would seek it out for themselves.

In the ancient Greek Magical Papyri it is documented our relationship with the spirits who inhabit this physical world around us. While they rarely have corporeal bodies these spirits wield incredible power over the forces of the natural world.

These ‘genius loci’ tend to a static place, inhabiting features in the landscape full of energy. Rivers & streams, mountain valleys, ancient forests, those places where the nexus of being affords them a comfortable habitat.

Yet even in the urban world that we have carved they have evolved to function. Certain forms of building, areas of great human traffic like crossroads, material places we have created for sometimes other reasons that the abode of these spirits have come over time to find ‘genius loci’ of their own. Instead of teeth of thorn and stone they bare teeth of glass and steel.

Not all seekers can walk a path of pure natural landscape. Many are stuck in the sprawl of urban decay, watching ruins of man’s 1970s bad design decisions be polished into glass and steel turds of prefabricated corporate enclaves. Startup incubator hellscapes that shine in the rain like a b set on the Blade Runner story board artwork.

The city is haunted by these corridors of steel, the shades that stalk the streets are those of the dead homeless, of working girls and deranged ex bankers tossed out of their office after breaking down in a fit of anti- capitalist rage and destroying the spreadsheets through which mankind must continually consume.

We work our magic at these crossroads of manmade forms, concrete covered in tar and piss, the smell of car exhaust thick like incense of copal, the steel and glass become an altar at which we sacrifice lives to the deities of consumption and avarice.

In the 1950s a group of modern thinkers created the philosophical genre of psychogeography. The Situationists, primarily under the influence of Guy Debord, outline this critical analysis of the landscape in a series of articles published in the “Internationale Situationniste”.

Debord would publish his seminal work “Theory of the Dérive” originally in Les Lèvres Nues #9 (November 1956). In this short piece he outlines a form of practical divinatory landscape magic (though he does not make reference to magic directly) he dubs “dérive” which translates roughly as “drifting”.

“The ecological analysis of the absolute or relative character of fissures in the urban network, of the role of microclimates, of distinct neighborhoods with no relation to administrative boundaries, and above all of the dominating action of centers of attraction, must be utilized and completed by psychogeographical methods. The objective passional terrain of the dérive must be defined in accordance both with its own logic and with its relations with social morphology.” - Guy Debord, “Theory of the Dérive”

While Debord was primarily preoccupied with the urban environment, these ideas being born out of creative theories of the urban dwelling surrealists and eventually the situationists, they hark back to various forms of wandering and coming to know one’s environment through intimate journey common in rural areas throughout history. The “riding” of Scotland, the “walkabout” of the Australian native tribes, many cultures have a prescribed method of coming to know oneself via the land. Yet rarely do these cultural ideas of landscape exploration delve into the nature of the landscape in any scientific way.

The witch walks as well among the ruins of capitalism as we do the forest floor. We smell the stench of mankind’s death lingering on the horizon, a literal forest fire shouting in hisses and belches “I can’t breathe.” But even the urban witch needs time out away from the designed landscapes of man’s continual betrayal.

Out of the city, into the remaining forests and plains, to the mountains and beaches bereft of human indignities. Here we recharge ourselves, listen at the lectern of that parliament of birds, meditate in that complex drone of bees in a flower covered field. The wind through various trees speaking to us in a tongue we have always known but have no name for, only the sounds that tell us things we have always wondered but were simply afraid to ask.

This is the sabbat, this return to nature. This is the revelry for which we must escape even the most dreary urban existence, this soil from which our blood is fed, these waters to cleanse our spirit in preparation for the journey we must take along the path.

The “land” is itself the surface of the Earth’s crust, an area created by the shifting of the tectonic plates. This thin skin of cooled material harbors and incredibly diverse ecosystem. Yet it is not just above the soil that life lives. Deep into the earth we find an enormous quantity of complex lifeforms existing at depths we have only recently come to understand.

That earth, a particle itself screaming through naked space. A vehicle we inhabit, a space station ringing out dub frequencies into the cosmos. The electromagnetic field of the sun, its orbiting particles/planets shifting over the empty space in the radiant aura of that star at the center of the solar system.

When we look up into space we see nothing more than particles. Screaming suns that ring out just like every atom in your body. Interrelated electromagnetic fields pulsing in waves like haunted sound-systems. Singing that tune your soul needs, urging you on to the sex beat of reproduction. The pounding drums of interstellar rain inhabiting your abode, shining out of your eyes and your mouth like the burning of a salamander born under a blackened sun.

The surface of the earth we inhabit is not merely the geographic variables we perceive, nor is it only the organic film that clings to the upper layers of the outer crust. The earth is inhabited by more beings than can be accounted for with mass and electrons. Beings of light and gravity, magnetism and electricity. They inhabit rivers, mountains, crossroads. They ring out the tune you seek, dance to the beat you need but if only you could see with your ears and hear with your eyes.

Throughout this region there is an electromagnetic field of complex forms, irradiated by material objects (including the earth itself) yet influenced by shifting patterns of energy in space beyond the biosphere. Like a tapestry made of energy this electromagnetic field contains forms of life long known to the witch, yet hardly understood by common society.

These entities exist in ways both dimensionally and frequency shifted from our own plane of existence. While we are able to bridge the gap between our realm and theirs, and these dimensions do share a common fabric, it is only through practice that we can become accustom to their existence.

Spirits; whose names and forms are as varied as the names mankind has given to shades of colour and light. These beings we refer to as ancestor, kith, and elemental are but part of an ecosystem we have little knowledge of, and what rare knowledge we have is occulted.

With various forms of offering, pacts and rituals we have come to learn how to coax them into allegiance. How to work with them and communicate. Though much of our ritual action is not for them, it is to prepare us as practitioners for the mental and emotional toil of interaction with beings whose existence is obscure. This is why our offerings must come from our possessions, must have meaning to us. Our mental desire projected into the value of an object enriches its value in our trade with those who inhabit the landscape.

As old as it is in the realm of practical magic that concept we have been referring to as “landscape magic” is long overdue for a more accurate descriptive terminology. We have relied for centuries on the designations of various religious authorities to give form to our understanding of these beings, even in the days of ancient Greece, where the witch’s perception was shaped by the everyday culture and beliefs of the ancient Greek.

The secularization of witchcraft, particularly in the practices of the folkwitch, leaves us a framework that can adopt to a practitioner’s own religious beliefs, or be parallel to them in the practicalities of magical practice.

Yet the terminology of “landscape magic” is limited through lack of direct dialog between the disparate practitioners. When we turn to those authors whose work have touched on landscape magic beyond the psychogeographers, (historians like George Ewart Evans, folklorists like Katharine Briggs) we see a pattern of understanding in the practice of common folk magic throughout the world of interaction with a class of spirits whose form and function are shaped equally by the physical manifestation of the geographic landscape in which they inhabit, and the socio cultural framework of the practitioner in their understanding of the shape of the universe.

When we have considered the language of magic and its history of cultural appropriation we have tried in many ways to find a terminology that best represents the broader ideas encapsulated in “landscape magic”, in particular relation to the folkwitch.

Jake Stratton Kent, in his landmark text “Geosophia”, outlines the history and origins of grimoiric magic through the concept of Goetia, a body of knowledge whose origins are derived primarily from the ancient Greek Magical Papyri. While he doesn’t dissect the name of his volume the term “geosophia” is a Greek compound derived of “geo” for earth and “sophia” for wisdom.

The relation of goetia, though distinct and historical, to landscape magic is apparent in that many of the concepts related to spirits we as magic practitioners have come to understand find their origins in the goetia.

I have proposed the term “geotia” (geo sha) to give a broader modern terminology to the idea of landscape magic. It takes the reverse of two vowels in goetia and alters its meaning to one more rooted in the land itself and less tied to a specific massive historic body of knowledge.

Geotia is the state of being within the land itself. The total perceptual elimination of the culturally perceived boundaries between oneself/ species and the natural world. The prerequisite state of the practice of folk witchcraft.

Thus the intersection of geotia and witchcraft is a shared understanding of the form that reality takes when stripped bare of our projected ideas of consensual (culturally acceptable) reality. When we embrace the seeking of that state of geotia we begin to see more widely the potential of energy that exists in the world around us. The folkwitch comes to work a specific patch of land, one that is tended to and looked after by the witch.

The landscape that you make your patch is populated by a wildlife beyond physical form. Not just in the echo of your ancestors, but beings who have lived as long as there have been homosapiens, often longer.

You bleed into the ground, it drinks of your essence and it knows you. You feel outward into the landscape. In some places on the earth it is calm, its hills and valleys having long settled with history. But in others it is marred with the darkness of bloodshed, disease and war. Haunted landscapes that linger still because we refuse to let them settle, they instill us with that dread of our species past.

The words of your ancestors echo down the dna line, reverberate in the sound chamber of the landscape. They teach you who you are and who you are meant to be. They guide you on your path, but like a willow-the- wisp there is no catching them, only a journey further and further into the endless forest of self discovery.

The witch is the link between the ostracized humanity of the late 21st century and the natural world. We are the walkers who can hear, perceiving the true structure of the world we inhabit, beyond the illusion society teaches is “real.” We have been to the other side of the hedge, and have ridden the night winds. We fear not death, and often flirt with its sweet caress. The witch is the guardian of the land, but what we guard it from is humanity.

Bibliography:

Guy Debord. Theory of the Dérive. Les Lèvres Nues #9. 1956.

Jake Stratton-Kent. Geosophia. Scarlet Imprint. 2013.

George Ewart Evans. The Pattern Under the Plow: Aspects of Folk-Life in East Anglia. Faber and Faber. 1966.

Katharine Briggs. Pale Hecate’s Team. Rutledge. 1962.

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This article originally appeared in FOLKWITCH vol 1, 2019.

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