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themadauthorshatter · 3 years

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Do you guys know what could've been kind of interesting to see in SGE? More specifically, the first book? Tedros realizing he has some possible feelings for Agatha while still thinking he's in love with Sophie.

Think of it like this:

Tedros trying to be closer with Sophie, i.e. trying to talk about his life back in Camelot, any frustrations he's having in his classes or with his friends, or even just wanting to know more about HER, but Sophie only hugs his arm, rests her head on his shoulder, or simply holds his hand and tells him she loves him.

Upon seeing this, his mind and eyes drift to Agatha, who is doing something like getting some homework done early or practicing some magic. Maybe he sees Kiko and Agatha together and Kiko is complaining about accidentally dying her hair green and making it all spiky, so Agatha waves a glowimg finger and fixes it right up for her, explaining to Kiko, who wanted blonde hair, that she's beautiful with her dark hair and Tristan is an idiot if he doesn't see that; not a very "Agatha" line, but I imagine she'd be tired of seeing and hearing Kiko cry and is genuine in her words because Kiko's nice to her and a pretty decent friend.

Maybe a challenge happens where people from the opposite side partner with each other and Tedros OBVIOUSLY partners with Sophie.

Agatha, however, doesn't get a chamce to think before Hester and Anadil equally take a step forward-

AND HORT CRASHES INTO AGATHA INSTEAD-He wants to get Sophie back for using him, and Hester is not taking her away from him.

Even with a possible concussion, Agatha and Hort do well, the challenge being getting across a deep and raging river by walking across a log or something, I'm not good at making up challenges for fairytales.

Because she's in heels and doesn't want to ruin her makeup, Sophie crawls across the log rather than walks, which makes Tedros have to slow down and wait for her.

I should probably mention that this log is close to the water and is cracking beneath them, so THEY NEED TO GTFO the log.

Tedros knows this, but doesn't want to leave Sophie(both because they'll get points taking away for leaving their partner and he's still pretty sure he loves her).

Chekhov's gun fires. The log breaks and both Sophie and Tedros fall in and are swept away beneath the surface.

Agatha follows with most of the students and Yuba following.

Because she's a smart person, can swin, and doesn't care about her looks, unlike many of the other students, Agatha recruits Chaddick, because he's strong, and Anadil, with she has rats, which are CRAZY intelligent, and they find another dead tree or a vine or something to put over the river, thin enough for Sophie and Tedros to grab, but thick enough that it won't break. Anadil kicks her maguc into overdrive and grows her rats to be the size of pitbulls, and Chaddick and Agatha use them to get to Tedros and Sophie out of the river before the tree or vine snaps.

I'm sorry for making Anadil OP, but she's exhausted when her rats are back to their normal sizes, too tired to even stand up as she glares at Agatha and tells her, "That is the last time I'm helping you."

Tedros storms back to the Evers with Sophie trailing behind him, begging for him to listen as she apologizes.

Under water, she had flailed and held Tedros down as he tried to get above the surface, which almost made them both drown.

He doesn't talk to her at lunch, but does notice Chaddick awkwardly commending Agatha for her quick thinking. By awkward, I mean it's almost painful to watch him find the right words to thank this "witch" for helping to save his best friend.

Again, this is an awkward exchange and it takes a few minutes for Agath to understand Chaddick and not get offended.

Tedros thinks on this and considers all the "connection" moments he's had like the goblin challenge where he mistook Agatha for Sophie and when he picked Agatha's coffin.

Sophie notices him staring and asks if everything's alright and why he isn't paying attention to her; water on the brain.

He shrugs, smiles, and says it's nothing, which makes Sophie smile and go back to talkimg, Tedros inconspicuously watching Agatha cackle her giddy ass off when Beatrix accidentally falls in mud while trying to approach Tedros in glass slippers. Kiko laughs behind her hand, but is close to tears. Agatha does magic her clean, but Beatrix still pouts and gets a little mad, even if the squeal she did was nothing short of hilarious.

Trial By Tale happens, events and all, but Tedros doesn't instantly break up with Sophie. He keeps his distance instead.

One night, after he's won and hasn't spoken a word to Sophie or sat near her at lunch, eating in his room instead to avoid her and because he's still a little injured, he is awake and can't sleep, so he wanders the quiet school halls, watching snow fall and reminiscing about home and how his school year's been, maybe even having a made up conversation with his father about what's happened.

HOW COINCIDENTAL THAT AGATHA IS ALSO OUT OF HER ROOM AND LEANING AGAINST A LEDGE TO ALSO WATCH THE SNOW.

This is the conversation between them that follows:

(Agatha turns to look at him with annoyed eyes)"... Here to call me a witch again?"

"Well, as long as you don't punch me again, I won't."

(Narrows her eyes a little mire before turning back to the snow.) "Why are you out here?"

(Tedros leans against the wall facing her and tips his head back, watching the snow.) "Can't sleep. Hester's demon got me better than I thought." (Chuckle) "I still have a bruise on my side from the thing."

(Agatha gulps as she remembers how it broke into pieces and attacked him, but says nothing.)

"How about you? Does the witch have you doing her work for her again?"

(Agatha gasps, surprised by the jab to her friend and at how he figured it out. Tedros's face is mostly expressionless, though he does raise an eyebrow as if to say, 'Go 'head. Prove me wrong.' She relaxes again and shakes her head.) "My room doesn't have a good view of the trees. I bet it's snowing in Gavaldon, too. Harder than it is here, maybe."

"Gavaldon?"

"My village. Where Sophie and I came from. Our home."

(Tedros laughs) "I'm sorry, how long have you two been friends for?"

"Long enough. What about you? What brings the prince of Camelot out to watch the first snow of winter?"

(Tedros's smile drops as he returns his gaze to outside.) "Like I said. I couldn't sleep."

"Why are you REALLY out here?"

(Tedros is silent for a few seconds, biting his lip because he's obviously uncomfortable.) "... Your village. Gavaldon. Do you... miss it?"

(After another second of silence, Agatha responds.) "A little bit. We were better friends there, at least. And I miss my cat."

(Tedros humms quietly as he gives a slight nod, biting back a 'witch' comment.)

"I guess you're used to the attention. Being the prince and all."

(Tedros shrugs and scratches the back of his neck.) "Sort of. Not really. No one ever followed me around like Beatrix. Could you see a maid being on my tail like SHE does?"

(Agatha can't help but laugh, Tedros chucklong with her before his smile drops.)

"I don't know. I mean..." (He leans on the ledge.) "I like being with my mates and all, but... it gets annoying when there's always a couple of girls giggling at you behind the corner. I miss my room, too. And the library. And the court yard. And the garden. And the field."

(His voice breaks at that last one, but Agatha doesn't bring it up. Instead, it's her turn to talk about home.)

"I miss my mom. We didn't really get along, but she's my family, Reaper, too."

"You named your cat Reaper?"

"He took care of our rat and bird problem. You'd be surprised at how many blue jays come to a cemetery." (Agatha's smile drops.) "I miss that, too, the cemetery. It was quiet. And just reading fairytales in my room instead of studying to BE in one."

(Tedros nods at that, no joke or quip.) "It's all fun until you learn how dangerous it all really is." (He is silent for a second, gulping and running his hand through his hair.) "Thanks, by the way."

(Agatha turns to him, playing coy because she's not used to the Evers ACTUALLY being nice to her, save for Kiko.) "For what?"

"The Trial. Saving me. I don't think I'd be here, if you didn't."

(Agatha blushes and looks at her hands.) "No... No problem. I mean... Well... I guess that..."

(Tedros smiles and slips some hair behind her ear and kisses her hand.) "'You're welcome, Tedros. I hope you can repay me, somehow, Tedros.'"

(Agatha almost tells him to forgive Sophie, but instead says something else.) "Can you talk to Sophie? She's sorry about what happened and she really does love you."

(Tedros frowns.) "Love isn't pulling someone down with you when you're under water. And neither is leaving your teammate to fight alone."

"You said you wanted to repay me, this is how. Do you really want to be indebted to a witch?"

(Tedros reluctantly nods.) "Fine. I'll talk to her."

"Thank you."

(Agatha turns and walks back to her room, but Tedros only watches her leave, speaking when she's out of ear shot.) "I don't think you're a witch."

I feel like I could add more, but this will be enough for now.

I hope you guys enjoyed, sorry if this came off as fanfiction-y or any of the characters were a little OP, magic or otherwise. And like I said in my progress post, this is just what I would have done to have Tedros and Agatha fall in love, or start falling in love

Either way, I hope you enjoyed this

Incase you're interested, here's a link to part 2: https://themadauthorshatter.tumblr.com/post/642332442965983232/im-bored-im-continuing-with-that-tagatha

#school for good and evil #tedros #agatha #sophie #sge tedros #agatha of woods beyond #sophie of woods beyond #tedros of camelot #sge agatha #sge sophie

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a-very-fond-farewell · 4 years

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The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 14/?

MeetCute modern!AU [mianqing edition]: “Don’t Bother Looking Down”

[title is from the song “We Fell in Love in October” by Girl in Red]

[let me live vicariously through my baby girls ok?? let me have this]

Qingyang wishes she never moved in this damned country in the first place. Coach Nie followed her alright, so she should be fine and, really, she is thankful for this amazing opportunity. But now she kind of regrets giving up her Lanling citizenships in order to move back to her mother’s home country and fence for the Qishan national team. She understands the language to some extent, but the people there immediately notice her accent and they glare at her whenever she speaks.

Coach Nie moved country as well just to make a champion out of her and, although he respects her for the choice she made, Qingyang knows he misses Qinghe and the people he left behind.

Getting into the national team was nothing compared to the impossible task to fit in and live a normal life. Even her new teammates don’t talk to her unless it’s strictly necessary and they always speak in that quick dialect of theirs just to gossip behind her back. Some of the guys in the male team are actually friendly and manager Xiao Xingchen is always offering to help her with this or that. Meng Yao had to leave Lanling to make the team and even his mother is, coincidentally, from Nightless City just like hers. She doesn’t like Xue Yang: barely seventeen, never heard of manners in his life, but he’s a genius in his own way and Qingyang has a lot to learn from his swordsmanship. However, his younger step sister A-Qing is the loveliest girl and the foulest mouth on the planet whenever she begrudgingly cheers for him, so maybe Qingyang could, potentially, relax a bit and have some fun while training.

But no. Their respective teams captains are actually evil and want them to suffer through impossible training sessions just to let them bask in glory without doing much themselves. Wang Lingjiao especially hates Qingyang’s guts and does everything in her power to make her leave.

It’s not Qingyang’s fault if her disgusting boyfriend had tried to give her a lift home too many times already. She wouldn’t even accept a drink from Wen Chao, let alone a lift. But one day Qingyang has enough, honest to the gods she has.

So it’s with a hollow heart that she stumbles into a random library to check if they have something to consult for her anxiety... when she sees her.

The girl that lives above her in her new apartment complex with her Grandma and younger brother. The one who always scowls at her because she never gets the trash out in time. The one who their landlady refers to with the ever lovely title of “our little overachiever” and “med-school dropout” any chance she gets. The one who apparently went to Lanling University along with Qingyang’s cousin ZiXuan and was the top of their class. The one who always runs around with the child she babysits for the rich couple at the end of the street.

And fuck no, Luo Qingyang’s not gonna mess with that.

So when she readies herself for yet another awkward encounter with the angry looking woman, the last thing she expects is to be welcomed with a blinding smile.

“Welcome, how can I help you today?”

And if Qingyang has to rely on some forced pleasantries between retail worker and client just to experience some human connection... so be it. It may be sick to ask for kindness this way, but she’ll make do.

She has to.

[details underneath]

Wen Qing hates her job. Not because she hates books, although she’s not a great reader herself (save from poetry, but nobody needs to know that), but because her boss is the epitome of “welcoming host” and she’s suffering from a chronic case of resting bitch face and forcing smiles is the last thing she wants out of life.

She came back to Qishan to look after her grandma after she broke her femur and her brother Wen Ning is studying to become a teacher and the final exam is nearing. Wen Qing didn’t want him to drop out to look after their grandma, so she left her fancy scholarship behind and came back.

XiChen is her boss at the library and took her in after his brother WangJi asked him to: Wen Qing and A-Yuan are distant cousins, but she and her brother didn’t have a job by the time the child became an orphan and their grandma was too old to look after him; hence, WangJi and his husband Wei Ying adopted A-Yuan and didn’t want him to live separated from his original family, so they moved in Qishan and frequently meet with the Wen’s.

Wen Qing feels bad about dropping out of university, but she refuses to regret it since she’s more than happy to look after her grandma. ZiXuan is a pediatrician now and several years have passed since they were classmates and competing for grades, but he checks on her through video chats every once in a while.

(ZiXuan is -coincidentally- Qingyang’s cousin and they talk a lot more than what they used to do now that he’s married and his wife is waiting for their first child. Turns out, ZiXuan is a secret matchmaking mastermind now that he is happily married and has matured enough to want his dear ones to be happy as well. So he plants the seed of curiosity in Wen Qing’s head by talking about his “hot and exceptionally talented fencer cousin who could possibly bench press a grown man. have I mentioned she’s hot?”)

...

(“Ew, do you think your cousin is hot?” / “Hot as in... lesbian terms, you get me” / “No. I really don’t. I’m straight.” / “Sure Wen Qing. Sure.”)

...

Qingyang keeps going to the library after her practice, in full gear and with her hair messy and red cheeks just to see Wen Qing smile at her and being forced to be nice to her. She absolutely knows the other woman is forced to do so and so she annoys her with pleasantries and silly things, but she never outright flirts with her [the lesbian courtship prevents the subjects from using such direct and straight(pfffffft)forward ways of approach, obviously].

...

(“I’m so sorry for forgetting about the trash the other day” / “That’s [*clenches fists*] fine. Don’t worry about it” / “Will you forgive me, Miss Wen? Really? [*Qingyang used ‘Bambi eyes’. It’s very effective!*] / “Don’t worry, that’s fine [*Wen Qing wishes the ground could swallow her whole. The nerve!*])

...

Wei Ying obviously befriends Luo Qingyang: he has to. He’s never seen Wen Qing this flustered in his life and he needs something to entertain him while Lan Zhan is at work. So he meddles bc he’s a little shit, but we all love him for it anyway.

...

(“Did you make a library card yet or...?” / “I don’t want to give that woman my ID, she might call the police on me once she gets a hold on my name” / “You literally live in the same building” / “It’s a big building. And I always misplace the trash, I’m afraid she’ll call the police on me saying I’m actually hiding a corpse in my apartment. No thank you” / “It’s a library subscription, not a birth certificate for gods’ sake” / “I’m not risking it, Wei Ying” / “Then I’ll tell you what to do.......”)

The next day at the library...

(“I want to get a card” / [*internally screeching* “took you long enough, wasting my time”] “Name?” / “MianMian”)

...

Which is apparently the wrong thing to say, because Wen Qing loves poetry and goes ballistic for any reference she can pick in normal conversations. So when she hears ‘MianMian’ she immediately goes “Then my name is YuanDao” and it’s like a fucking switch has been pressed and now WEN QING IS THE ONE PURSUING but Qingyang doesn’t know anything about poetry and doesn’t know what to do. She’s created a butch monster who actually genuinely smiles at her now and that’s too powerful for a small femme like her holy fuck.

O_o

Additional content: Jiang Cheng goes to a million blind dates until he meets XiChen out of fucking nowhere and they move in together two days later + Meng Yao seduces Nie MingJue with hot fencing routines without even sparing a glance at the older man (his drive is focused only on the medal and... for NMJ that’s kind of hot) + Wen Ning is actually a heartthrob but he’s not interested and runs away from people actually swooning at his feet left and right + Xue Yang is not a criminal and only wants his sister to finally get the service dog of her dreams + Song Lan is a referee but he gets distracted by the Qishan team manager bc... boy is he fine

o_O

[I’m suffering. Can someone write this I do not have time to commit to my own writing and I don’t trust myself with the delivery.

I’m but a tiny prompt-machine help me D:]

#mdzs #cql #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mianqing #the forbidden crack! untamed prompts #mdzs/au: sports #mdzs/au: modern #mdzs/au: fencing #xicheng #wangxian

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aj-the-psycho · 5 years

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The Band of Rotten: Chapter 8

CAUTION

Summary: Roman and Patton finally stepped out of the desert. It won't be long until they reach the coast. Baylen, Remy, Logan and Virgil tried to come into an agreement.

Ao3 Link

United States, 1860

It had been days after their odd evening in the unnamed town, warned of murders. The following morning, they rode quickly away from the town and never looked back. The last few days had been similar to the days before; uneventful under the scorching heat. Fortunately, midday had passed behind them as the evening approached. As the sun sinks lower, they entered a foreign land. The dry soil of the desert no longer crunch under their feet. Instead, they would see the occasional shrub and bush. And soon, they encounter rows of trees and greeneries. The desert was no longer their travelling companion.

Patton sat on the saddle with his ever-present smile—at least it appeared ever-present to Roman. Perhaps he just has a generally kind appearance. The air felt different—cool and a tad heavier. It was still bright when they entered another town, this one much bigger than the last and surely more crowded. A wooden gateway guarded the town with a big sign, Buxcastle. The town was bustling with sounds and movements.

“Excuse me!” A man shouted as he walked past them quickly with a thick rug rolled on his shoulder.

“Comin’ through!” A young woman followed with two big boxes of what looked to be loaves of bread. “Flynn, slow down, would you?”

“Be quick, Mr. Crowley isn’t as patient as he was five years ago!”

Without hesitance, Patton followed the two from his ride, leaving Roman to trail along. He would need to acquire some small information.

“Hey fellas,” Patton greeted. The two strangers jumped in surprise. The girl looked at the rider with wide, bewildered eyes, while the boy pressed his lips thin. “Might need ta ask a question from y’all.”

“Um…” The girl hummed, glancing at her companion who rolled his eyes. “Be quick, we’re in a hurry.”

“Well, how far are we from the coast?”

“Five days. A week at most with your horse,” the boy answered quickly. “Sorry, we have to go now. Come along, Lev, we don’t got much time.”

“Thank you!” Patton shouted as the two strangers continued their way. Quite rude of them not to smile or even say hello, but it was no problem at all for dear ol’ Patton. He rode back, catching Roman’s fatigued look. “Ya wanna ride the mare now, pal?”

“I will be fine, Patton,” Roman said with bravado, puffing out his chest dramatically. “A march such as this is not a hassle for me. The military was a lot harsher with me.”

Patton only smiled, hiding his own exhaustion behind a cheery exterior. They walked through the town, neither feeling any sense of rush or the need to get to their destination in a hurry. It was busy in the town, especially when they reached the market place. There were crates of produce everywhere they looked—rarely any kind of meat. It was a refreshing sight after weeks of sweltering desert. They were finally walking on damp soil, fertile enough to grow food—or any kind of plants for that matter.

The wind was cool over their warm, sweaty skin. There was a fountain, grey stone with some part covered in green moss and algae. Still, it was a beautiful sight to see so much water in one place after having to befriend the desert. Orchard dipped her head into the fountain, taking a drink of the cold water. The children who ran pass them giggled and laughed at the mare. Patton gave them a smile while Roman charmed them with his chiseled jaw and quick winks. It took them another hour to reach the other side of town, dodging past people who were walking and running here and there.

“What would you say about that little warning we were given, Patton?” Roman asked as a random thought crossed his mind. “The murders, I meant.”

“Ah, those…” Patton trailed off. He had tried to forget that odd conversation in the small unnamed town. It was a shame Roman brought it up. Though perhaps he needed the reminder to stay on guard. “I dunno, ta be ‘onest.”

“Don’t you worry. If danger was to come, I would defend both of us.”

Patton gave a small huff of amusement but made no other comment. They walked some distance away from the town, but not too far. The presence of other people around them was comforting, especially with the dangerous threat they might be faced with. This was not a friendly environment, no matter how beautiful the evening sky looks or how the wind carried with it the slightest smell of flowers. There were too many things for them to be cautious about that they couldn’t stop to enjoy the graceful evening.

He could still remember the way his guns move and jolt in his hand every time he shoots. He used to go to the fields with his sisters, play shooting with their father’s empty glass bottles that were filled with whiskey not too long before they were shattered with sharp bullets. The last time he fired his guns, though, did not end too well. It was not a good move, nor was the whole day a pleasant memory in Patton’s mind. Guilt had been haunting him ever since he galloped away into the sunset never to return.

They sat with a fire under a massive tree—one they hadn’t seen during their travel. Roman was no stranger to killings, murders. It was not a friendly or agreeable thought. It had been one of the reasons why he left. In fact, he had left for many reasons. The army, while welcoming at first, was not something appealing to Roman anymore. Not after he saw how the army treated those they claim to serve. He had been young and naive to ever think it was an altruistic role to serve the military. Surely it is, but he could see his country only wanted things for themselves—raid and pillage for the betterment of their own and leave the barren land to suffer.

“We need ta sleep, pal.” Patton’s voice broke through the night. They could still hear the soft murmur of the town a distance away. “It’s not too late yet, but we might need ta pick up pace, ya know what I mean?”

“Surely I do. Good night to you, then, dear rider.”

“And to ya, soldier.”

**********

France, 1860

Baylen paid attention to the details of the man standing before him. His dark blue coat and his black hat were neat, and his dark leather briefcase looked well taken care of. This man is very obviously someone with a true purpose. An intellectual he was, with his dark hair peeking through his hat and framed eyes. His companion, though, was not as impressive-looking. He was small and scrawny, pale as the moon though not as friendly looking—he looked pale even in the darkness of nighttime. There were traces of dirt and mud on his torn trousers and tunic visible even in the shadows. The thin shoes he wore had seen better days. The dark coat was the only thing presentable.

He thought things through in lightning speed. He had planned to trick Remy into joining him so he could secretly return the nosy nobleman to the noble family and collect his rewards. Seventy thousand Lira was not something he could pass up easily. Yet, while his mind long for that flowing gold, his heart shouted at him at the premise of going to America. There was one thing he was still looking for—one thing he won’t give up even after nine years of failed attempts. Yes, this one was closer to heart. He was torn.

“What news could you possibly offer us?” the glasses-clad man asked. This man speaks with an air of superiority, though with no trace of arrogance or condescendence.

“I have a ship myself and am the captain,” Baylen answered with a seemingly genuine smile—though Remy knew better. “And coincidentally, we were planning to sail to America just as the dawn greets us in nine hours.”

“Actua—” Remy hadn’t had the chance to utter a word before he was interrupted by the captain. He sent a small glare to Baylen only to be ignored.

“Our ship is fairly quick. It would be four weeks of a shorter trip than most of the bigger ships.”

“That does sound rather appealing,” the intellectual said again with a raise of an eyebrow. The man’s companion had been silent, not uttering a single word. In fact, he looked rather lost.

“It does? Why, thank you. I also offer a cheaper price, unlike those corporates and shipping vessels.” Baylen smirked, knowing his trick was working well. Having this man in his ship would be highly beneficial. Having more brains in the ship would be better—although there was a big chance this man won’t cooperative. As for the dirty companion, he didn’t look useful at all. “I do try to be reasonable for pricing.”

“Would you introduce yourself?” Remy asked quickly before Baylen had any chance to interrupt him. “I am Remedio Arlotti. Just Remy is easier.”

“I am Logan Kosko, and this is Virgil.”

Logan was starting to doubt the captain’s claims. The deal he was proposed seemed a little too good to be true. How could a ship that moves faster demand less pay? It did not make logical sense.

“What vessel do you own exactly?” Logan was gaining some confidence with his French. He merely needed a little push to get his linguistic muscles to come alive again after so long out of practice.

“It’s a private ship,” the captain answered. “I do not take passengers too often, but on some occasions such as now—when many are looking to travel—I do offer for a few to come aboard.”

“Where did you two come from?” Remy interrupted the conversation. The question seemed out of place to Logan, but he didn’t mind answering.

“Virgil here is English. I am Greek.”

“In that case,” Remy said with a deadly tone as he sent the captain a glare, “think twice about your options.”

It was a surprise when Remy blurted out in English—not only to the captain, but also to Logan and especially to Virgil. The little delinquent had been harboring suspicions on the captain despite not understanding the conversation. The way he spoke and move was unsettling. There was a certain glint in his eyes Virgil noticed, and it told him of danger. He had dealt enough with dangerous men in his early life, enough to know how to differentiate those who intended to be good and those who are bad.

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked hesitantly, feeling out of place when he suddenly could understand.

“Well, he’s—”

“Attendez un moment,” the captain almost shouted. “Qu'est-ce qui se passe?”

“Bay—” Remy was interrupted again.

“No, what are you doing?” The captain lowered his voice, speaking to the nobleman with alarm.

“What are you doing?” The nobleman asked in retort. “I am not letting you—”

“Gentlemen,” Logan acquired, cutting off the argument, “may ask what is the matter?”

The noble and the captain froze. Remy could not live with himself knowing he could save two people from a trick—a dangerous trick—the captain is playing. He knew he could do the right thing and have these two strangers walk away from Baylen’s clutches. At the same time, he didn’t want to be alone. On Baylen’s ship, he would feel like a captive, being deceived and used. If he could have one or two companions, it wouldn’t be too bad. ‘But that’s selfish!’ he thought, trying not to claw at his own scalp. He gave himself an internal sigh, letting Baylen win.

“I apologize,” the captain said as he cleared his throat. “It was merely a small misunderstanding.”

“Hey, Logan… I don’t know if this one can understand me,” Virgil spoke up with unease and malice, “but I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t even understand what he is saying, Virgil.”

“True, but the way he speaks does not sound trustworthy to me.”

“Let me stop whatever it is you are saying,” the captain interrupted yet again. “I assure you everything is fine, and on that note, this is the last time I am going to offer you my ship.”

Logan turned to the little thief standing next to him. Virgil was looking at him like a child who was going to let out a temper tantrum. And in all honesty, Logan felt pity for him. He looked like he was barely an adult—a child who was forced to grow up too quickly. Of course Logan understood Virgil’s concerns, but there was no other choice he could see. He looked down on the crumpled money Virgil gave him from his thieving.

“Listen, Virgil, you know what this money is, correct?”

“I am not an idiot, smarty! I know what money is.”

“That is not what I mean. You took Pound Sterlings. We are in France, and Pounds do not work here.”

“I can try again.” Virgil stepped away, ready for another steal. He was stopped by a strong grip on his collar. He really was no match to Logan’s surprising strength. “Let me go.”

“Virgil, that is enough.”

“Alright,” the thief said with contained anger and frustration. “When the worst thing comes, you will regret not listening to me.”

“Are you really sure of your decision?” Remy asked after being mute the whole time. He hid his internal conflict well. After all, he’d had enough practice of hiding within himself when he was at home. “Think again.”

“I am not sure if you want us to join you or not.” Logan furrowed his brows.

“That is not at all what I meant. I only wanted you to be sure.” Remy ignored Baylen’s light kick on his leg.

After much thought, Logan decided it was right to join the captain—though with hesitance. The whole exchange had been promising and quickly turned confusing which became suspicious at the end. But Logan was desperate. There was no other way, and he surely couldn’t go back the way he came. The idea of stepping into the New World was something he couldn’t pass up. He couldn’t lose anything else, so he will have to try no matter how difficult.

Virgil was more reluctant. He almost suggested that he’d be left alone while Logan boards the suspicious captain’s ship. Though without Logan, he was a little lost. He knew nothing of foreign travels. It was true that he’d only known Logan for one day, but the man was not too unpleasant albeit a little too talkative at times. He didn’t want to admit he was dependant on Logan, but it was the truth. He gave a sigh as he finally agreed with much concern. Perhaps excessive concern, but perhaps not.

As the four walked to the boat, Remy almost shouted in frustration and guilt. He felt something burning in his chest that he so desperately wanted to claw out, but couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to spend four weeks entirely alone as the captain’s captive toy. He needed someone, and knew this was not the way. He couldn’t see any other option. Remy clenched his fists tightly, willing his misty eyes to dry. This was not right. None of it was. Yet, he couldn’t let out a single noise other than an almost-inaudible squeak. He could see the captain’s mischievous smile. This was a trap, he knew, set up to catch new prey. There was nothing he could have done. At least that’s what he let himself believe.

As they climbed into the boat, René and Collette looked at the two new additions in bewilderment. It was lucky Baylen didn’t forget about the fruits at all—they settled with buying plums and apples.

“What are you up to?” René asked the captain in a whisper. “This isn’t right, Bay.”

“And us being pirates is right? Stop being so naive. You know nothing is fair.”

“We didn’t have a choice. You know how you become the way your are.” René scrunched their forehead in anger. “Did you actually want things to go the way they did?”

“That’s enough, you two.” Collette squished herself in between her two friends. “Honestly, I don’t care whatever you’re doing, Bay. I only worry because you’re going to bring all of us into your game.”

“No, no!” René’s whispers were starting to gain volume, though no one aside from their friends heard. “You don’t understa—this is not honest work.”

“And raiding merchant ships is an honest work to you?” Baylen challenged, his arm not forgetting its task to row the boat farther into the sea.

“I—”

“I know we didn’t choose to be here,” Baylen said with a gentleness so rare. “But we have to survive. And this is how we do it.”

The boat was quiet after that. The three pirates were stuck in the memory of their unwanted past. It was lucky the three of them had found each other. If not, who knew what would have happened to them.

The stars hid that night, covered by thick clouds. Slowly, the firelit windows of the captain’s cabin on the ship became more visible. And soon, the entire ship was revealed from the cloak of darkness as they drew nearer. Virgil, who had been quietly sulking in his head, stared in awe at the ship. It didn’t look as beautiful as the ship which sailed him from Britain to France, but it was impressive all the same. It looked clean enough, though the outer wood was not as sleek. He was taken out of the moment when he saw the name imprinted on the side of the ship. Le Destin Doré. Surely he’d heard of that somewhere. He tried digging up his memories. Perhaps he knew something he didn’t know he did.

Something clicked in his head.

The sudden laughter spilling out of Virgil’s tiny frame was a surprise to everyone. It was not a laughter of amusement or joy—that much was clear. His hoot of laughter sounded almost menacing. Hostile. He stopped his laughter abruptly before everything fell silent. Virgil shifted on the boat, his gaze boring into Baylen’s eye.

“Logan, remember when I told you I used to steal from merchants?” His gaze never left the captain, only sharpening with every passing second.

“Uhm… uh, yes.” Logan’s answered was hurried and unsure. He could not deny the fact that Virgil looked almost demonic with the hard expression of anger on his face. “Are you quite alright, Virgil?”

“So, you’re the captain aren’t you?” Virgil ignored Logan’s question. His voice was laced with deadly sarcasm, as if each word dripped with venom of anger and animosity. “I don’t think I caught your name. But that won’t be necessary, because I know your name.”

“Uh… what is happening?” Remy whispered to Logan who answered with a shake of his head.

“In Britain, merchants discuss their shipping routes for two things.” Virgil did not at all sounded like himself. “One, to see which route is the cheapest and most efficient. And two… to avoid your pirate ship, you bastard!”

“I really did not expect this to happen,” Remy whispered again casually.

“You’re a pirate?” Logan asked Remy in confusion and anger. Virgil was letting his wrath known to the three pirates.

“I’m not a pirate,” Remy answered. “But the others are. I was deceived.”

“Your name, Captain Baylen Delacroix, is known to be a bad news!” The words were said through gritted teeth and clenched fists that even when the pirates didn’t understand Virgil’s words, they were still intimidated. “However it is you pronounce your name, I don't care! You bellend.”

**********

United States, 1860

“Find a man with the name of Luciano D’amico. He was my apprentice back when he was younger.” He remembered the master’s words before he left. “I sent him to the New World years ago. He leads our team there, called the Black Rose. Find it and find him. He will tell you what to do. Do well, boy. Find him.”

He stood in front of a big garage, painted dark green like moss. According to the letter he was given by his master, this was the address he was supposed to go to. Hesitantly, he knocked on the metal door. The sound of clanging metal rang through the space inside, clattering and echoing horrendously.

“Coming!” Came a gruff voice from inside.

When the door rolled opened, he was faced with a massive man. He wore a suit on top of a black shirt. His chest was wide—and really, everything about him was wide.

“To whom does the red crow answer?”

“To the Black Rose it shall give, and turn the red dark.”

The man gave him a smirk. His eyes were a cold void of nothingness.

“I have been waiting for you.”

__________

Frenchy french time!! (correct me if I'm wrong): Attendez un moment [Wait a moment]

Qu'est-ce qui se passe(?) [What is happening(?)]

Prologue Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 9

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akiiwan · 5 years

Text

I really need to get out this experience I just had earlier tonight. Thank you for reading & holding space if you are able. ~Not sure how to CW this, still shaking, still feeling like I'm going to throw up.~ First of all, my therapist has told me that I need to practice not isolating myself & talking about the things that cause me hurt &/or trauma instead of pretending they didn't happen, stuffing them away, or trying to run from them. I have been tapering off of a psychiatric med that for me(or my brain) has not been a good experience for about 3 weeks or so. For the last few days I've found myself in crisis that can't even really be explained with life altering symptoms like self harm that I really don't feel like going further into. Not only am I in the middle of switching psychiatrists, but the next appointment I have is over 3 weeks out. The old white dude I was seeing that I transferred from is out of the country apparently & didn't properly tapper me off. When the nurse I spoke with today spoke with the only doctor who was available, they said I was having very severe (but common!!!) withdrawal symptoms from tapering off of this med. Mind you, this is after I've already self-harmed & was trying not to do it again despite feeling that way + dealing with intense suicidal ideation. ANYWAY, 10 minutes before 5pm, when the nurse & doctor are scheduled to leave, she calls me back & says that I need to get to the pharmacy immediately to pick up a 1/2 dosage to keep tapering down & would be sending it in right then. The pharmacy I like to use has limited hours, & also closes at 5pm (would Never have made it). So I reluctantly had them call it into the so-called tumwater walm*rt pharmacy since they would be open until 9pm. we get into the car & the nurse informs me that i need to hang up with her & actually call them to make sure they got it with no issues before they leave for the weekend. I did that & confirmed I was all set to go + also let the pharmacy know I was on my way when I called. Arriving at the pharmacy, driving through the parking lot at walm*rt it's literally a fucking 'maga' convention or some shit. Driving by the main entrance to park there's literally a truck with a sticker of "make america great ag*in" on their back window & an old white couple loading shit into it. I couldn't fuckin take it anymore, as we passed in the car, I rolled the window down & yelled "america was never great & will never fucking be great". Apparently that was enough to start a bunch of shit... We (my husband & I) go park just a little further away than normal bc of the snow & bc it was so busy. I stayed at our car to rant a little bit before going in to try releasing some of the anger & tension that caused, but apparently to no avail as a wmart employee (of course, some old white guy doing carts) watched me the entire time, even as I walked up to the store. Before I even got to the door, I noticed that same employee that had been watching me that I was trying to just walk past gave me the most aggressive & honestly terrifying look. While still walking, not even breaking stride to engage, I shouted at him "fuck all you maga losers" or something to that effect I really cannot remember to be honest. All I know is I know I was on a mission & actually really focused to go get my medication & get the Fuck Out. So while I defended myself from his purposefully intimidating + vicious gaze just by no longer saying silent, he got on his radio & said hell knows what on it. I continued walking fast, straight to the pharmacy with no further words, just trying to get there as fast as my body could carry me. As I walked up to the counter there was a small line with 1 person standing & (of course) a random middle-aged white guy sitting waiting in line 2nd. I politely asked him if he was in line while my husband stood in front of me & offered me to sit while he stood to wait. He confirmed being in line. Directly after, some large old white guy I've never seen (about 6'2" maybe 6'4" or something) got behind my husband. To distract myself from anxiety/everything that just happened, I started talking to him about stuff we did the day before. The old white guy that came up & stood behind my husband stood there for a few seconds, then threateningly walked up to me as I was sitting down waiting & literally interrupted me talking to my husband + said to me "you should clean up your mouth, no one wants to hear that language, you're in public"... "you should go home then if you don't like it, you fucking racist." I said. OF COURSE, of freakin course the middle aged white dude on the other side completely entered himself into this & said "how does this have *anything* to do with race?!" like he had ANY CLUE what was going on. I said one more thing like something to the effect of "yeah I know what this is really about you heard me tell whoever that you maga losers can all fuck off" to both of them - basically he had coincidentally heard what I said to those old white people or some shit idk honestly. IT GETS BETTER - (sarcasm, obviously) The store manager, assistant store manager, & the rest of his entire entourage -literally all white people- ambush us at the pharmacy & say they will not be filling my emergency script & I can leave for ""harassing their customers"". The store manager (some 100% bald middle-aged white dude who no shit literally looked like a fucking skinhead) & whoever the fuck was next to him would not even look at me nor acknowledge me As A Person. They even said right in front of me like I wasn't even there they would only speak with my husband (who also happens to be white). No shit. As my husband tries calmly to explain our/my situation, he cut him off & this dude(store manager apparently) looked at me for one split second with the most disgusted & threatening look even leaning into it, said "what is your name"? "I don't need to give you that information" I replied. He literally turned on his heel & said "fine, I'll just get it from the pharmacy" like that isn't illegal as all hell. My husband, trying to de-escalate & just get my emergency script at this point & save me from more BS told him my deadname right in front of me as the sm stormed off with his entourage. 2 employees remained. The assistant store manager - a white woman who looked confused + shocked? i guess idk I have problems reading people as someone who is neurodivergent. There was also another employee who was also a white woman who had visible tattoos. Long story short, they sit with me while my husband & myself wait once the shit ass of a store manager informed them they would be filling it bc the wmart employee with the tattoos literally confirmed EVERYTHING in my story as she walked by at the time of the old white man approaching me FIRST when I was sitting down in line. After filling my script I walked directly out the door to the EXACT same wmart employee that started all of this. He had already been tipped off not to engage or even look at me (like he did before). So instead as we walked to our car he made sure to exert his "power" over me by walking as close as possible while passing opposite directions on the sidewalk in front of the store. I wish I was making this up. Not even going to try to sugar coat it, I feel scared as hell making this post for So Many reasons. I know I am a light-skinned &/or a "white-passing" POC that does pass either way in certain situations. Being mixed with white, regardless of whether it's winter or summer, I still benefit from this viscous cycle that is white supremacy. I know that & I acknowledge that. So it just makes this post that much more awkward I suppose?, but I know I cannot invalidate my own experiences & I also cannot change how I am perceived as I move through the world. It's definitely different every damn day. So much so that I never really know where I stand or where my presence is welcome or unwelcome or what to even expect from people.

TL:DR; My friends of color in this area or passing through: stay the fuck away from the tumwater walm*rt literally at all fucking costs. it's 100% unsafe.

Thankful as all hell for the community I've chosen to surround myself with & that we've moved into an area that seems a lot safer & with a lot more POC community to connect with + continually feel safe around to help manage my C-PTSD.

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dememarquette · 7 years

Text

Vitalis Ex Maria

1311, France

The Rhône river had a way of dragging stragglers upstream.

It’s newest arrivals came in a pair that washed in with the tide every year. After a three month tour cruising the Mediterranean, it was a feat to have frittered away all their earnings in a matter of 48 hours. A personal record, actually. They just didn’t see it that way.

“Don’t start- you’re the one who blew it all.”

“Me?!” Osalm drew back, offended. “You can’t even cook. Why’d you let that merchant scalp you for spices?”

“They are the biggest thing on the market right now. It’ll pay off.”

“You’re a moron.”

“And you love me.”

“If I have to.”

She snorted.

It was completely normal to resort to begging between voyages. In the nicer towns, it’d work until people began recognizing their faces. At that point they became too disheveled for the populace to make eye contact with, anyways. This early on, they still had a chance.

A shadow turned the corner. Somebody was coming. Though she wasn’t talking, Osalm hissed a terse ‘Shut up’ before shoving her into the veranda of a tailor’s shop. If she hadn’t seen a vegetable in two weeks, the injustice would have resulted in a beatdown. But since she hadn’t, and they were running on empty, she remained quiet and radiated attitude around the corner.

Osalm shook his cup. It jangled, despite nothing of worth inside. A pebble, just enough to make one feel bad that other people paid a due to society’s less fortunate before passing them by. Proving the rule, the approaching figure paused.

Maria palmed the blade in her skirt, preparing for the worst. The stranger was not looking the friendliest. Of all people, he picked a hooded figure to panhandle. Nonchalant, her brother reached for his, too. And the stranger: his coin purse. As he did, the metal of his crucifix caught the light. Suddenly, the equation changed.

While Osalm wiggled excitedly at the sheen of silver from his bag, Maria stepped into plain view. “Stop- don’t.” “What are you doing?!”

“You know the buzzard is just going to spend it on booze, right?”

“What?!” Osalm punched her calf. “She’s lying! She wants me to starve to death.”

“C’mon Os. Don’t steal from a priest!”

She never considered herself a lamb of God, but other people out there were. And those other people had grander schemes in life than to swindle the system probably deserved it more. Guilt was apparently a recessive gene, because her brother seemed to disagree.

“It’s not stealing!” Osalm tucked the charity under his bottom. “It’s called ask and ye shall receive, it’s in their playbook, read up. They love doing this.”

“You’re awful!”

The priest smiled at that. While could always indulge in a good debate on morality, he was finished with their squabble. Osalm counted his score while his sister berated him. It wasn’t until she had a handful of the bronze (and his hair) that she noticed the priest missing, already halfway down the alley.

“Wait, wait, wait! Hold up!” She pried herself from her brother’s grip. His hold on her ankles relinquished with a well-placed kick to the ribs. Throw in a little twisting, and she broke to cover the distance.

“Maria!”

She ignored him to catch up, barefoot padding the ground until her abrupt stop at his heels. “Look- look, that’s way too much.” She panted. “If you’re going to give us that, you have to enjoy it with us.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” The priest kept walking, diligent. “But if you’d need more assistance, I’d be happy to help in the morning.”

“Are you sure? Leaving now would be enabling.” She sounded sarcastic, but accentuated her seriousness in a pause. “Isn’t that a sin?”

“No...Not really.” He glanced at her waist. The cloth hung loosely, advertising a more fortuitous time. “I am trusting you to spend it on more worthwhile things. You should take care of yourself.”

“I see...”

The woman was seemingly on the same page up until she whirled to her brother. “Osalm! He says you can spend it all on booze and hookers!”

“Great!” He propped two thumbs up.

The priest was mortified.

“What- no, no no-” His hands lifted in protest but it was too late. She caught them.

He’d remember that wildfire grin all night.

- - -

It should be stated that the Descoteaux siblings had a laundry list of petty crime under their belts. Trespassing, vandalism, coincidental piracy- it goes on. Never anything absolutely malicious in nature- albeit, kidnapping was new.

Osalm watched her drag the priest back in a headlock. Oh, he blinked. She meant it. “Maria, you’re scaring him.”

“I am not!”

“I can undress myself?!” The priest cried. He didn’t know why she felt the need to claw off his clothes but they were entirely hers if she asked!

“It’s for her rituals.” Osalm elaborated, gravely.

“That’s not even funny!” She pulled the robes from over his head. Couldn’t they see it was for his own good?

The priest scrambled back, bare in his tunic and shifts. Having agreed to none of this, he was ready to bolt the second the two inevitably got into another tiff. He’d been dragged down the street, and only on the patio did it occur to him exactly what he was in for. The tavern reeked of old alcohol and bad choices. “I can’t go in there,” He gasped.

“Sure you can!”

“Underwear is not a disguise, Maria.”

“Hey, he was running around in a hood before!” She pointed out. “No one will know.”

A shame too, she thought. She kind of liked the blonde, blue-eyed angel look if only for the stark contrast it provided when he turned beat-red. Much like the present.

“What’s it going to be? I’m not giving your robe back until you join.”

“Charity is a no-go, but extortion is fine, noted.”

She rolled her eyes. Opting for better company, she pulled him to the bar. Osalm’s smartass remark also happened to result in the loss of choice on the priest’s part. Before he knew it, he was parked in a bar stool with a drought of ale put in front of him. It went without saying she wouldn’t let him leave without sampling it, nor was she satisfied there.

The ransom for these things began with one sip. It graduated to half the mug, and then into more personal things, like his name and where he was from. Obviously he couldn’t introduce himself as Father Marquette here, so Vitalis it was.

She learned he was a native of the town, but unlike most of the clergy, he didn’t seek the power that comes with rooting oneself in a solitary community. He liked to travel. And through this discussion, he learned she was from the coast. A pilgrim in her own right, preferring sails to horseback, and had a freckle for every city she’s terrorized. She lived with only enough foresight to survive the next day and that’s how she liked it, too.

She picked his brain until he stopped keeping track of how much he was draining, only seeking to wet his tongue for more. At the end of the night, she paid with a flourish. Every coin she’d earned (well, he earned) was slapped on the table, paying for them both.

The bartender wasn’t amused. “That pays for the first five.”

“That’s all we’ve had!”

“And?” He nodded his head. Across the bar, her brother was being- quite literally- swept out of the building.

“But that makes it nine...”

“My point.”

That was a problem. She scavenged her bags despite knowing the answer. She had nothing, and no amount of digging was going to change that. The woman blushed, suddenly meek. Demure wasn’t a color she wore well. “...You don’t happen to accept payment in spices, do you?”

He scowled. The look said it all.

The vagrant groaned. If she had to, she supposed she could let Osalm spend another night in lock-up. Only until she had the funds-!

The priest picked his head up from the bar. “I’ll...work for the remainder,” He offered.

Maria paused. Accepting the proposal without another beat, the bartender handed him a mop.

The mission that night: clean up after everyone else. This included his new acquaintance drooling vomit all over the welcome mat. The labor was quite the steal for what remained on their tab, and it was almost as if it was his business model to wait for someone to offer.

Maria shrugged. Well, that worked out. She patted her new friend heartily on the shoulder. “I guesss I’ll leave you to your work!”

He never quite understood ‘No good deed goes unpunished’ before that night.

- - -

‘Community service’ lasted well into the evening. He was drunk off his ass but better off than some of his neighbors. With difficulty, he managed to help several sloshed patrons upstairs. Fluffing their pillows, and covering them up was overkill, but no one was complaining about five star hospitality at a one star price.

When finished, he muttered his thanks to the owner, and swayed onto the streets.

Maria was waiting patiently outside. His robes, and her brother’s unconscious head rested in her lap. The two had ample time to make their way back to the inn, but guilt had dangerously wound itself up in her stomach. Not enough to help, per-say, but enough to feel bad about how things turned out.

“Where are you going?” She asked.

The priest was lumbering somewhere but not anywhere she could discern. The chapel was the other way.

“I can’t go back…inebriated.” He dragged. With no money, and no home, the cleaner of the darkest alleys were starting to look awfully friendly. He had no problem taking that vow of poverty at face value, only if the neighborhood felines wouldn’t mind. “I’ll be fine…” He waved her off.

“Wait!”

Osalm’s head hit the wood paneling with a dull ‘thunk.’ She caught up to the priest quicker this time like she’d prepared for the sprint. Her brother’s spare key was already stolen. Pre-gaming was involved, and she didn’t want to be bothered...

“I just wanted to say that I…” She held her hand out for his. An offer instead of full-on abduction. “...Know where you can stay.”

His heart raced. The priest found himself powerless being lead away.

- - -

Living at sea made her a deep sleeper.

Nothing like the jerk of the water, and the raucous energy of idiots to orient one to sleep like the dead. Alcohol helped. When it didn’t, wearing herself down until rest was no longer a conscious volition did.

But by some miracle, a whisper that rused her. An unoffending noise, completely out of its element where glass broke habitually and feral cats had a perpetual turf war. She rolled over on her side- noting that she was sharing the bed with no one. Usually she was the culprit for bailing first, but go figure a clergyman to be gone before the sun except-

The rhythm continued. Down below, like a private song. It baited her to the edge on her elbows. There he was. Her secret rendezvous, unknowing conspirator in her ‘Wouldn’t-it-be-funny-if’ midnight tryst. He knelt on the cold stone, head bowed.

Smirking, she watched him, bemused before understanding hit her like a brick. Her own sense of virtues could be outré, but wow. “Are you really repenting after sex?!”

He peeked an eye.

“Good morning.” He said. “And sorry...”

“For what?”

The priest cringed. Well, if he could admit it to God, why not own up? “I shouldn’t...have done that.”

“Done what? Me?”

He chuckled, as if he hadn’t followed her to her bedroom like death row. Apologizing twice would just be repetitive.

Not that there was a market for it. She could handle being a regret, but being in audience of a priest tattling on himself was a bit much. “What makes you think God has any place in here? Do you think he cares?”

“It’s not about Him. It’s about myself.”

“Yourself?” She rejected that just as haughtily. “Don’t lie, you had fun.”

A delicate pink seeped into his cheeks, no booze to blame it on now. “It was a lack of self control. If I can be that easily...distracted, I have no business here.”

Maria’s eyes rolled, threatening to disappear into her skull. ‘Distraction.’ What a sad euphemism. “That sounds like a load of horse shit.”

“You think?”

He stood from his altar at her bed while she gathered her things. The vagrant was comfortable to leave it on that. Never to see him again, like a black smudge rubbed away from his good name. She figured it’s what he wanted, and living life on the road meant you could oblige the people you use in little ways. But as she shoved what little possessions she had into her arms, it got her thinking. A morbid curiosity that stopped her at the door.

“Did that...thing of yours mean you prayed for me too?”

Her question was posed like a set-up for ridicule, but his years as a career empath could decipher sardonicism from sincerity.

“Would you like me to?”

- - -

Osalm lost it.

She never explicitly explained, but her brother had been hungover across the street. He was in perfect view of the lovers’ walk of shame, and found it hilarious. Maria left like a champ but the priest lacked in such a practiced subtlety.

“Look at you, dragging holy men to hell” He cackled, regardless if Vitalis was still in earshot. He was. “Did you see his face?”

“Shut up, Os.” She said, pitching a breakfast roll with little care in terms of aim.

It didn’t hit bullseye, evident by a flawless catch. “Áve María ♪~” He sang.

Her eyes narrowed. “At least I didn’t have to pay him!”

That ended that.

He was right about one thing, though. Vitalis was a new breed.

The priest’s business usually kept to the upper state area. The Avignon papacy was the newest and best thing to hit the city, currently in full swing. It acted like a beacon to the clerical staff looking to broaden their horizons. Furthering education was one thing, prestige another, but learning of the nation’s biggest priorities was what he was there for. People there liked to talk about what needed done. Vitalis preferred to act.

He was a bleeding heart. A day without changing someone’s life was a waste. He didn’t see himself fit spreading the Lord’s name if he had nothing concrete to show for it like a time card. The most selfish thing about the man was his steadfast belief he was put on this planet for a higher purpose. He’d never admit it, but it was implied when he’d reject officiating your wedding to go get projectile vomited on by a possessed toddler out in Montpellier.

Vitalis was all about lasting impact. Dealing with the upper echelon’s of Avignon was his daytime job, and a means to an end. By night he’d be back in the backwater to get the outskirts of the city with the program. Children on the streets were his weakness. Also adults. Really, anyone down on their luck but that didn’t encompass it. This is a man who’d chew your food if you had a toothache.

He never shied away from Maria’s company, though. Rather- surprising the two of them, even himself- he embraced it. He was a victim of his own vices, while leading her away from hers. An odd cultural change where both found worth in benefiting the other, without seeing the trade at all.

Their relationship was secret, naturally, but calling it star-crossed would be painting it melodramatic. She respected him as a priest and a human, and he learned to accept he was capable of wanting more out of life than a pat on the back when it came to a sharp-tongued brunette, kissed by the sun.

It didn’t stop the repenting, though. After the third time, she threw a shoe at him, and he finished the prayer before saying ‘Ow.’

- - -

With Summer came good news..

A captain had made berth at Saintes Maries desperately seeking abled bodies. Osalm left early in the morning to seal the deal, leaving his sister behind to take care of the last minute details. One of which was a certain priest.

She caught him by the chapel.

“I’m leaving soon.”

“Oh?” He perked. “Where to?”

“Italy, I hear. Ossy found us solid work for a couple months.”

“That’s great news. I adore Italy. I’m sure you will too.”

“What about you? Where are you heading?

“Bourges. They are constructing a cathedral out there, and could use the extra hand. Consulting, planning and all.”

He left out the part where he had already delayed the trip two weeks. Their fling was never meant to last forever, but he always seemed to find little things he could do around Avignon before making the trek across the country.

“It sounds boring.”

“Not when you see what it does to the community. It blossoms when it all comes together. People help people...”

“You sound like a fortune cookie.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

- - -

She finished packing. A little later in the afternoon than she would have liked considering the circumstances, but hardly an issue. Her brother would be waiting at the port with their newest job description.

“Here you go.” She tossed him a bag.

His body rocked with the weight, but he regained his balance quickly when it came time to block her passage. His arm flew up, stopping her on the gangway. “Ah-ah-ah! Where do you think you’re going?”

She attempted to sidestep to no avail. “What?”

“Not this time, little miss.”

“You’re kidding, right? You couldn’t make it anywhere without me.”

She tried to pass once more, and the two spun around like a swinging door only to end up in the exact same spots.

“And that-” He prodded her stomach. “Won’t either.”

Her eyes widened. Face hot, she wrapped another layer over her stomach, defiant. She’d been so careful. The priest had been her crutch the past couple weeks more often than she’d seen him, and she easily explained away the morning sickness as hangovers. Unfortunately, Osalm wasn’t a complete idiot. The signs had been there.

“So what? You’re abandoning me?!”

“Well yeah. Can’t have you popping on the ship. That’d be gross.”

“Grow up!”

Osalm’s ever-present smirked dimmed. He had wanted to be jovial, but the decision had been weighing on him, too. “It’s no life for a kid, Maria.”

“No life for me either.” She gritted. He held her shoulders.

“...I’m sorry.”

- - -

That night, his caravel was seized before leaving harbour.

A routine check from the coast’s navy turned violent. A concerned citizen reported suspicious behavior an hour before the ship was set to sail. The vessel’s storage of untaxed contraband was uncovered disguised as caskets of the dead, wishing to be buried overseas. Osalm knew better than to scuffle with the authorities, but that didn’t change his fate.

For first time offenders, the charge was steep. You’d be marked, fined, and ousted from the city as a public disgrace..

Anything past that, the law was less lenient. Upon hearing news at the church, Vitalis borrowed a horse and bolted to the border. Hours later, he was able to garner access to the cells under the improvised title of a prison chaplain.

Osalm recognized him instantly. “Look who it is.”

Vitalis glanced around. The elder Descoteaux wasn’t alone, but his sister wasn’t to be found.

“Where is she?”

“She wasn’t onboard. She’s safe, somewhere in the city.”

The priest’s chest fell. The breath he’d been holding escaped him but the next would be productive. “I’ll try to talk to the officials. Perhaps I could negotiate a pardon.”

“No point.”

Osalm rolled up his sleeve. He exposed the scar that damned him. It was a brand- raised, slick and pink. A perfect twin of the one the priest would trace on Maria’s forearm. “They already know I’m no-good~”

“You could pay your debt.” He insisted. “Surely they’d be willing to negotiate.”

“With what money? It was bound to happen. I was just hoping it’d be cooler.” He sighed. “Tell Maria it was cooler. That I fell overboard- a monolithic beast dragged me to the depths before they caught me.”

Vitalis found no humor in that. “She’ll be devastated.”

“Of course she will. I’m sure she already knows. But she’ll move on. I’d say take care of her for me but I haven’t been doing too good of a job at that on my own.” He leaned against the bars. “How about this: do a better job.”

Vitalis frowned, suspicious. “She is her own woman.”

“I know, I know. But what I mean is don’t let her name the kid after me, okay? I know she’ll want to but don’t.”

Understanding fell into place like a deadbolt.

“...I promise.”

- - -

He found her on the edge of the brook.

She hadn’t attended the hanging. Without living protest, the body was cut down from the noose and cast into an unmarked grave, nameless in a sea of the others. Vitalis had committed its spot into memory should she change her mind, though her brother had seemed less than convinced that’d happen.

“She lives in the present.” He said, sometime after mocking the priest’s stuffy final rites. “Hell will freeze over before she cares.”

Maria sat on the edge of the water, skipping stones. There was no change in her eyes when the rock leapt across the surface, or sank. She’d just throw another, tepid and controlled like repetitive motion was her purpose in life. The footsteps coming up from behind were background noise, ignored as much as the crickets. He could have stood there all night and the results wouldn’t have changed, but he didn’t.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He said.

“Thanks.” She replied simply, throwing another.

“I ensured the burial was proper. I-...I did all I could.”

“You’re too kind.” Her voice clipped before the hitch in her breath threatened her controlled monotone.

He sat down beside her.

It became...uncomfortable. Tensions were as thick as the lump in his throat, but they needed to aired. Their futures both depended on it.

“What did he mean by kid?” He asked.

“Does it matter? You’re leaving tonight.”

“I don’t have to. I can stay.”

“Don’t. I can do without your pity.”

“It can wait.” He said, softly. “It’s not pity, it’s responsibility, and it’s mine.”

For the first time, she dared look at him. He was a man brimming with sincerity, but he didn’t mean this. She saw it in his posture, the dip of his eyes. His word was honest to God, but not what he was cut out for. It was a waste of his energy. Why save two, when he could save hundreds? Thousands?

It’s something she’d been wrestling with all day. Being alone would be hard, but she’d be damned before she’d be an obligation. That was even worse.

He continued. In that calming hum of his, he spun a tale about their future life together. How he’d leave the clergy, how he’d find work in town, how they’d make it work…

She stopped listening minutes prior, eying the dagger poised by her side.

“-We could start anew...married, if you’d like...”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. I don’t need-”

He flinched.

Her blade slid through his coin purse. Modest bronze pieces spilled to the ground- a week’s worth of meals at best that he’d collected for his journey. Vitalis watched the coins fall, sympathy plaguing him. “Maria…”

“I will be there.”

The edge of her knife pointed. His focus followed to a property overlooking the sea. It plunged upward from the woods- too distant from town for convenience, and too high from the water to merit the trouble.

His brows creased, “Maria. That isn’t enough to-”

“I. will. be. there.” She reaffirmed, words bleeding with contempt. “I’ll leave you to your work. Return when you are done.”

- - -

An honest living was the goddamn hardest thing she’s ever had to do.

It didn’t seem possible at first. Her brother and herself had managed on their own on the road. There, it was easy. Mooch here, be a menace there, side job across town, and leave on a boat after they’d stirred up too much trouble. They were adventure exemplar, not built for stagnancy.

Land came first. Cheap, due to its inconvenience. With it, self-sufficiency. The farm came after. She beat the ground until it yielded. Her son turned up somewhere in the middle. Balance was never easy and naturally there were rumors. On a good day, she’d claim to be a soldier’s widow. And on a bad, she’d chase you off the property with the same pitchfork she deterred pests. The same passion, too.

After some time, she didn’t visit town anymore, but her son was Rognac cliff’s personal ambassador. A precocious sprite, who treasured the company of absolutely anyone outside of his mom and the hens. Isolation gifted him with an endless fascination with people. When he expressed enough competence to handle grocery trips on his own at age seven, she let him. It was that loose-leash parenting that earned her a fair share of criticism. It takes a village to raise a child, but the village seemed to think it was doing all the work.

The two of them knew differently.

He grew up as an equal. A roommate, earning his keep as soon as he was walking. Motherly instincts were never a ‘thing’ that came to her, but she knew how to survive. In turn, he learned too.

But apart from his platinum head, the boy was nothing like his father until he came home with the Old Testament in hand. Vitalis’ occupation had only been nuanced to spare his image (her son, she learned, tended to be a huge fucking blabbermouth), but for the boy it was like a final clue, a riddle he’d cracked. This mystical job where he could travel abroad for a living, anywhere his heart desired, and people just went with it. He couldn’t get enough. Although Maria could care less about where God’s plan mingled with the mess she called life, she encouraged him. If only to see a glimpse of Vitalis.

Her son would read to her at night after the chickens were tucked away. She’d listen until he put himself to sleep with his own bedtime story.

Afterwards, she’d quiet her mind outside, dreaming of the sea.

- - -

1320

“MOM, there’s a weird man...”

Her head shot up.

In one smooth stroke, she abandoned dinner she was preparing to unsheath an iron rod from the fireplace. Nothing good came of people that hiked this far. Maria stalked to the front door; armed but not ready for who was there.

On the porch, a man crouched in front of her son. Their golden heads identical, only separated by years.

“And who was eaten by the whale?” He asked.

“Jonah.”

The grip on her weapon tightened, turning her knuckles bone white, before it dropped.

“Very good! You’re so smart.”

The boy pouted, rejecting the praise with a scrunched face. “That’s not even hard.”

He laughed. “Want another?”

“How about I ask you some?”

“Go right ahead!”

She opened the door. Years had hardened her up, but he’d recognize that fierce spirit anywhere. There was no trace of animosity, only a toothy grin inviting him in.

Their son could play outside for a bit.

#vitalis #maria #osalm #story #NOW I CAN GO BACK TO BEING PRODUCTIVE ON OTHER THINGS #backstory #parents #someone help me with titles for these things

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