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the-moon-prince · 3 years

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The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter V

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

This chapter contains a mention of sexual abuse. I understand how hurtful this topic may be to a lot of people (me included). Likewise, I'll mark it at the start and the end, so you don't have to read it if you prefer. I made sure for people to be able to read the chapter without reading forcefully that part. I added this as a form of venting. I feel like it's an avoided topic, and it's my form to show support to other trauma survivors. This was made with the only intention to comfort. If something is bad written or harmful, please tell me. I also ask for your understanding if you plan on commenting, thank you very much!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story. (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter VI coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 888

TW: Mentions of sexual abuse / Mentions of abuse ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) appeared more comfortable around Kurapika. Occasionally letting their ears escape while staying in the privacy of their houses.

But there was still something mysterious about (Y/n). Some of what they didn't say. Kurapika was filled with doubts and fears because of that. He pondered scenarios, each one worse than the other. Are they lying to me? Maybe they're in some kind of danger or distress. Creating a vicious and unhealthy cycle in Kurapika's spirit.

The two were patient in the relationship, neither comprehending fully how to give or receive affection. But despite the time they had been together, (Y/n) seemed resistant to accept fondness. Particularly physical. They had never tried to hold hands. When Kurapika attempted it, they recoiled in alarm more than once. In the few hugs they had given each other, (Y/n) shivered. Loud noises made them shake and jump, and they hand a list of tics as sudden shaking chills or protectively shrugging shoulders. Kurapika could understand that, he had tics as well. But his partner seemed triggered by his touch. They continued to be protective of their eyes. It was normal they didn't meet his eyes often, however, they tried to hide her eyes whenever they looked more cat-like.

Suspicions of his beloved being at risk grew bigger. He didn't want to, he couldn't permit himself to lose someone else. What kind of cruel mockery of life would be that, when finally there was someone like him-Someone who understood and supported him-was erased from this plane. The idea that these funny tail and ears weren't going to survive grieved Kurapika. The plausibility of not seeing those (curly/wavy/messy/straight) (hair/color) strands nevermore haunted him. Undoubtedly, it didn't end there. Fury consumed him when he conceived the idea of someone injuring more further a being so humane, kind hearted, and compassionate as (Y/n). Hadn't both of them grieved enough? But what they were suffering, adding would be disastrous.

Yet, (Y/n) didn't utter a single word regarding the matter.

Kurapika entered a state of fright. At that limit, he needed at the very least to know what was going on. He showed up that night at (Y/n)'s residence, knowing that they had no guard at the hospital and that they would be there. He had a spare key and wasn't abnormal to simply arrive at the other's place. Either of them had the habit of picking phone calls or answering messages.

Except for the scene he arrived at was abnormal.

He saw (Y/n) from behind sitting on the floor, a thing they never did, and if anything was remarkable about them, it was how strict they were with their customs. They had their elbows leaning on the coffee table, looking down at something. They did not react upon his arrival. (Y/n) never missed a noise, even less the one of a door opening. Yet, they remain immobile as if the lives of the universe depended on them staying frozen in place. Kurapika approached them. To see that there was a call in progress on their phone resting upon the table. (Y/n) did not dare to see the phone directly. Their hands held their head by the forehead, their gaze hidden behind their (curls/waves/strands). Just as Kurapika opened his mouth to speak, a female voice came from the phone's speaker-"So you won't answer me?"-silence again-" My baby... I know you think I broke you..."-the voice was sweet and honeyed, full of compassion"-Who could that woman possibly be? Why did she address (Y/n) like that, what did she mean by "break". Kurapika craved to question (Y/N) what, for love for his clan, was happening. He was relucted from doing so, he could perhaps extract information from the person on the other end of the line, taking advantage of the fact that she believed that (Y/n) was alone.-"But that's not true! I didn't do anything, my love. You were born broken, your demoniac eyes are the proo-" (Y/n) abruptly cut the call before the sentence finished. They didn't turn to see Kurapika, despite knowing he was beside them.

Kurapika had his breakpoint. "What's happening (Y/n)?! Who was that?! You can't keep things as such from me?! Do you understand that?!"-he started to scold, raising his voice. His eyes would look scarlet if it weren't for the contacts he was wearing at the moment. Someone else knew about (Y/n) identity. Who can say such atrocities? On top, with such a sound and sweet voice, it was twisted. She was talking about their eyes. Did she want them? Was she behind (Y/n)'s eyes? All these questions flooded incessantly in Kurapika's mind. (Y/n) hid upthrusting their shoulders and covering their face with their hands, their whole figure was shaking. They drew their ears back and adhered the tail to their body, probably changed on instinctual reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"-(Y/n) started to lament, voice quivering. Their breaths were heavy as if it were inhumanly tough to keep breathing. Whoever the other person was, were bad enough to provoke a position of panic on (Y/n). Kurapika knew that and seeing that getting angry only seemed to affect the feeble trembling figure in front of him, he decided to calm down. He was greatly concerned that someone he esteemed as highly as (Y/n) was in that position. It was not wise to let his humor aggravate things.

He lowered himself to their level and sat down next to them. He raised his hand to stroke their hair. As soon as the tips of his fingers touched the (curls/waves/bangs/strands) he heard a heavy "Don't!" and backed up his hand.-"It's alright. I'm not touching you. Still, I require you to explain to me what happens. Who was that woman?" Besides offering physical contact, Kurapika had no distinct idea how he could comfort (Y/n). He felt frustrated and powerless.

"My mum."-they whimpered, (Y/n) was distressed although not crying. Not a single tear came out during all that night. Kurapika no longer understood.

"Weren't your parents deceased?"- He felt that they had lied to him, and it sure bothered him that he kept that from him. But this was not the time to discuss that part.

"No, my family is dead..."-(Y/n) began to breathe more calmly. They readjusted, moving their hands away from their faces to hold their arms. "They did not raise me. My grandparents did. When my grandad got ill and died I left to study. They always lived far away." -(Y/n) didn't look at Kurapika at any time. They kept their gaze at a standstill. Nevertheless, he could notice that their pupils were very dilated, reminding him of the stare of a scared soaked cat.

"What did she mean by break you?"-he continued trying to maintain a moderate voice. He was somehow scared to hear the answer. It would hurt to know that someone hurt (Y/n).

"I wasn't the legal age. Someone had to take my guard when my grandfather died."-Their face stayed still in a sober expression.

"Did they hurt you?"- He felt progressively more scared and worse.

"It's not important. I don't believe it's something you desire to know." -Even with everything happening, (Y/n) refused to speak. How could they be so obstinate?

"(Y/n), this cannot continue. I require to know. You are not delusional, you know you have to tell me."-Kurapika got a heavy sigh.

"They never loved me, you know? I was never certain why. I tried my best. Maybe they were expecting a human... Maybe they blamed me for their separation...Perhaps they were disappointed to learn that I have a disability."- Kurapika didn't know that (Y/n) could have a difficulty, they never mentioned any medical condition. He would ask about that a little further. They were finally discussing if he interrupted now, possibly the opportunity will not present again.-"I spent most of my time in the university's boarding. Only I wasn't allowed to stay on vacation, so I would go home. Sometimes they put a muzzle on me so I wouldn't bite - although I never bit anyone. They put an electric collar on me once. I guess they were scared of me. "It's for your good because we love you, and you have to behave. Good kitties don't scratch and don't bite." my mother told me. They believed it to be true. They did many things to me under that pretext..."-They stopped there. Still having something to say, but not wanting to.

(WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE AHEAD)

"Did they... something else to you?"-Kurapika asked again. At that point, he was not surprised (Y/n) never mentioned their parents and did not consider them family. His anger was replaced by compassion. Expecting the worst.

"Yes."- there was the resistance again.

"What did they do?"-(Y/n) made a little movement with their head still hesitant.

"My mother did. She told me she had to check I was okay. Because I was not like other children..."-They lowered their gaze. Kurapika felt a chill. Neither of them was foolish, they knew what was to come. (Y/n) shrugged even more and started to play with their (color) hair -"It happened more than once, I don't remember precisely how many, but more than once for sure. She ordered me to... take off my clothes and... to lay down. It was unpleasant. For a long... for a very long time, I... I denied it. I told myself that she was an adult... that she knew better. If I doubted a bit more... If I weren't so naive... I would have done things differently, you know?"

(END OF THE MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE)

Kurapika felt horrible. It felt awful seeing someone he loved so much like this, someone innocent who didn't deserve anything of what happened. For the first time, he didn't know what to say. He had no idea how to act. It was something he did not understand.-"And the rest of your family? You couldn't ask other Uniliums for help?" he probed, wanting to understand their circumstances.

"I tried. I ran away twice. They discovered me at the first try. Two adults facing a 9-year-old child. They clearly gave me the beating of my life.

The following was 4 years after, more prepared. When I returned to our community, I found out that they got butchered not long ago."-(Y/n) lamented. It was probably what ached most of all. That they got that tiny hope and comfort taken away. -"I'm convinced if they had known, they would have helped and appealed to my favor. I concentrated on my studies in the faith to forget. It was also my opening to escape. I like my career, you know? Although my father told me during the 10 years it lasted that it was disappointing and worthless."-they added with a trembling smile. Those were the two details that provided them any comfort.

"Why didn't you tell me any of that?"- Kurapika asked once more.

(Y/n) raised their shoulders.-"I don't know. I was scared and ashamed. I was afraid that you would hate me. Perhaps I imagined you would be disappointed in me."-They were conscious that it was not a rational fear. But it was stronger than them.

"How could I hate you? It wasn't your fault."-He comforted. Full of regret for what happened-"It was not your responsibility at any time."

"I know... Though, still, sometimes I wonder if it was. Even acknowledging that it is a lie." (Y/n) sniffled without shedding any tears.

"They won't do a single thing to you, ever again. I'm present now, and I'll make sure they don't put a finger on you. You are safe. Okay?"-The blonde man secured.

"Thank you."-They smiled again. Many would have said it was the same smile. But for Kurapika it was different. This time it was a touch more melancholic than usual, but there was a side of profuse relief. They relaxed and their ears were forward, symbolizing more relaxed humor.

"It's impressive you succeed the Hunter exam possessing a physical disability." It was Kurapika's crafty way of questioning the subject.

"It was quite difficult. I was born with a respiratory condition, so I cannot develop many physical abilities. I am not physically powerful and I have restricted time to run. I depend greatly on my ability Nen and my wits. However, I won't allow that to stop me. Nobody tells me what I am capable of or not."-(Y/n) bragged. They could be proud. Even with that disadvantage, they had come a long way. That night Kurapika was aware of how strong his companion was. It didn't seem like it, at no time did any of the people who saw (Y/n) imagine all this side of them. After so much, they stayed strong-minded and sweet. They were truly brave. They were both survivors after all. They had both succeeded to get so far despite all the grief. And they both held pride in that. For Kurapika, the fact that (Y/n) had a more sensitive and altruistic side did not make them weak. Of course, they were qualities disapproved among several Hunters.

However, no other hunter held him during his afflicted moments. He could be vulnerable with (Y/n), and he was safe with them.

"Can you remain with me tonight, please?"

Kurapika didn't expect that request.

It was the first time one of them stayed overnight in the other's place. They had stayed really late together, but they didn't stay until the next morning. Plus, knowing how reserved (Y/n) could sometimes be, he assumed they would favor time alone following such an intense experience. Nevertheless, there was something so personal and vulnerable about that request. Kurapika felt the immense desire to stay and protect them.

"Of course."-He couldn't help but use a soft tone.

During all that conversation (Y/n), although exhibited fear, did not manifest weakness at any time. They stayed dignified without losing control.

"Can we lay down, please? I feel a bit tired."-they called after a moment of silence. Their voice resonated dull and tired.

"We can do whatever you desire."- Kurapika smiled at them, his only preoccupation at that instant was to ensure the well-being of the person he treasured, and their head started to bob. (Y/n) slowly nodded and got up. They silently asked him to follow them and padded to their chamber.

It was the first time that Kurapika entered their bedroom as well. It was fairly more adorned. It had a relatively big bed, with light cloths and a fluffy (color) colored bedspread. Without neglecting its childish side, it was full of stuffed animals of all kinds, colors, and sizes. Several shelves were overflowing with books. Shelving with toys and cute figures, alongside a record player and a cloth case with music records was also in the room. Next to the bed was a stool with a lamp and a framed photo. The apartments had their private bathroom, on which (Y/n) entered. Kurapika sat on the bed- or in the space left without stuffed animals- and waited. No longer than 15 minutes should have passed before (Y/n) came out with slightly wet hair, and a matching (color) pajama shorts and shirt. Kurapika didn't identify the exact scent at the time, but they smelled good, familiar. (Y/n) took the stuffed animals and arranged them as best they could on an individual loveseat.

"I apologize for this disorder."-they pointed to the bathroom door.-"There is the other toilet, so you can use it whenever you desire. I have each item, please serve yourself."-They laid on the left side of the bed and rested their head on the puffy pillow.

Kurapika merely laid down next to them, not too close. He was uncertain if it was correct to hug them or stay near. (Y/n) arranged the beddings covering the two. They smelled identical at them.

"Kurapika..."-an reluctant voice called his name.

"Yes?"-It felt strange, being in that place that, until then, seemed confidential. But it wasn't unpleasant at all.

"May I hug you?"-The request was bashful and quiet.

He thought of just opening his arms but preferred to give a vocal response as well.-"Of course you may."

(Y/n) approached him steadily. They proceed to timidly embrace him, after their arms were wrapped around him, they snuggled their face on him.-"You're warm... I feel ... comfortable ... with you. Which is bizarre. I don't feel secure with anyone since I was 6 years old."

Kurapika held them protectively. He felt profoundly touched by that strangely honest statement. He attempted to affectionately stroke their (curls/waves/locks). They allowed it.-"I love you (Y/n)."-He couldn't think about anything else he wanted them to know.

"I adore you, Kurapika."

(Y/n) ultimately permitted themselves to be vulnerable with Kurapika too. It felt good. It was good for them to have someone so strong to have their backs and accompany them.

They could hold each other.

#hxh scenarios #kurapika x reader #kurapika kurta x reader #hxh x reader #hxh #kurapika hxh #kurapika kurta #hunter x hunter #kurapika #kurapika imagine

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korkrunchcereal · 6 years

Text

Coincidence

His lordship had been gone for a week’s time and already trouble had begun brewing in Aurelian’s absence. Cyvar Wrenth had always followed Aurelian’s orders loyally, just as he had served Aurelian’s father Arcannon loyally…for the most part. When Aurelian had bade him remain in Quel’thalas to protect the throne and the individual who sat upon it, Cyvar had dutifully followed despite his worry over the safety of his lordship. Aurelian had at least relented and taken one of the Indaris swordsmen as a bodyguard while on the Broken Shore in order to ease Cyvar’s concerns, but the man still had a gut feeling something would go amiss.

He was right, of course.

He hated when he was right, because often it was of negative consequences. So was the case for the man Cyvar stood before, who pled his case in the scorched remnants of what was once his shop. He was a smithy by the name of Hasarel, and one of the better ones in the Gilded Lands too. He, among dozens of others, had been bought out by House Indaris or otherwise were heavily invested by the house in order to supply armor, weapons and other works of metal. War was not cheap, and House Indaris knew this, which is why they so heavily invested in profiting off of war amongst other businesses.

Yet someone either disliked that notion or disliked Hasarel, for last night his shop was burned down along with his home on the second floor. Hasarel had, in the late morning, come to the gates of Castle Indaris petitioning entry and for someone to investigate the matter. Out of kindness or cruelty, Cyvar wasn’t sure, Calithiel had sent him to investigate the matter.

It was by luck the smith survived, having been at one of the local taverns getting undoubtedly drunk. It was also lucky Hasarel had no family, instead preferring the whores of Rivervale to any form of marriage. Aurelian had made sure the man was paid well, which meant he had more money to blow. Ironic that lechery had saved the man’s life.

All of that mattered little now however, for the damage was done. Hasarel’s shop was burned, and now the man pleaded for compensation and demanded retribution. For ten minutes Cyvar wearily listened to the man who undoubtedly was still recovering from last night’s adventure in the tavern, judging from the smell of alcohol on his breath and the occasional slur of words.

“I shay mr. Wrenth, this was a personal attack!

“Yes so you have said, Hasarel. You’ve also said it was by three different people so far.”

“They’re all in on it! That Salas bastard was behind it; he’s never liked me.” The Salas family was among the wealthier residents of Rivervale, which itself sat on the river Sin’dal. Trade was lucrative in the markets, especially as jewelers selling their wares. While the Arrowmere’s in their silk trade were the most powerful family of Rivervale, they were now facing growing competition. There was even rumors the Salas family was behind certain criminal activities within Rivervale, though the guards had never found such evidence.

“So you have said.” Cyvar repeated with an exasperated tone. “Yet have you ever done anything to anger him?”

“No. Well, I did say hish ‘sword’ didn’t get enough polishing from his wife once.”

“Why…”

“The bastard inshulted my smithy! Called it a cheap mockery of true elven shteel.” Cyvar did his best to contain a sigh, instead pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You also said it was the smith Jorik, and a tavern wench named Llania.”

“It was! Jorik’s always been jealous of me, and Llania didn’t like that I slept with her si-“

“I get it.” Cyvar interrupted, holding up a hand. “I cannot act against any of them without solid proof. Your word, Hasarel, isn’t enough.” Hasarel threw up his hands, bafflement on his face.

“For years I’ve made swords, armor and horse shoes for the lord Indaris and this ish the thanks I receive? That damn wench he put in charge is gonna-“

“Easy Hasarel, before you come to regret your words. Insulting the regent in my presence or in anyone’s presence insults Lord Indaris, and you’ve worked for him long enough to know how he treats insults.” That was enough to quell Hasarel’s anger and turn it instead into panic, the man stammering out his response.

“I-I meant no dishrespect shir. I was merely shayin that I hope and expect as a loyal supporter of House Indaris that there will be retribution for this…and compensation.” Cyvar gave the man a hard look.

“I cannot speak for what my lord may or may not decide but do know you will have some form of compensation. As for retribution, the guards will look into the matter.” Hasarel opened his mouth as if to retort, but the look Cyvar continued to give to the man kept him silent. “Now, is there any other information you can give as to who caused this or why?”

“I wasn’t home…but I bet one of the neighbors must have seen something!” Cyvar gave a nod, finally releasing a sigh.

“Thank you, Hasarel. I’ll see what can be done for you and your shop.”

“Thank you mr. Wrenth sir; the shops all I got.” Cyvar turned around to leave the burnt frame of the building, taking a step forward. He paused, feeling something uneven under his foot. Looking down, he kicked away a piece of charred wood and looked at a small, soot stained and blackened piece of clay.

“Hmm…” Cyvar knelt down, picking up the piece. Lower, the stench of smoke and ash was almost overwhelming, but luckily Cyvar was accustomed to such smells now. His eyes wandered over the clay fragment whilst his fingers turned it over. “Hasarel, you didn’t have anything clay by here last night, did you?”

“No sir. That wash the front door. All I had there was some windows…and a shelf with some metal on it. Only clay would have been upstairs.” Cyvar looked up then, trying to piece together what must have been Hasarel’s living area. His finger rubbed against the inside of the clay, bringing it up to inspect closely. The glimmer on it…he sniffed the air, realizing what it was.

Gunpowder.

“Mr. Wrenth?” Cyvar tilted his head, debating on telling the man. He decided against it, standing up with a grunt.

“Hasarel…have you by chance been working with black powder?”

“black powder? I’m not a gunmaker. Damn things are finnicky explosive messes. Why?”

“No reason. Have a better day, Hasarel…and do sober up.” He briefly caught the man’s sheepish look as he moved outside in deep thought. Black powder? Unless Hasarel was lying and had such previous, which Cyvar doubted, then this was a targeted attack on the smith. The Gilded Lands and the Crescent Hills in particular had always been traditionalist in the face of advancement. The use of black powder in Rivervale of all places was unusual, though it could be someone from out of the province.

He would have the guards look into the Salas family, though even he knew it would be futile. They were respected enough within the community here that they were virtually untouchable. Besides, this was more than simple arson. The person responsible used a bomb, of this Cyvar was certain. He’d seen enough goblin contraptions to recognize the common features of a bomb, which was only more concerning. What was-

“Sir!” Cyvar blinked, realizing he was both standing on the side of the road, and that someone was trying to get his attention. He looked to the individual, noting it was a younger girl of blonde hair who had no doubt been standing there for at least a minute. She couldn’t have been older than late adolescent, he realized.

“Yes ma’am? Apologies; was lost in thought.”

“I was saying I saw what happened last night, if that’s what you’re looking for.” That got his attention.

“Did you now? What did you see?”

“Well…” she paused, looking around as if fearful of being overheard. Satisfied, she stepped forward, muttering softly. “It were two men, at least I think it were two. I live across the way,” she turned around, pointing a finger to a small house opposite the smithy. “I heard a vicious knocking on the door to Hasarel’s smithy that woke me up. I looked outside and saw two people standin’ outside his place. One of them threw something into the window and they both ran. There was a big explosion inside the smithy, and it caught fire!”

“Two people, you say? Did you catch any details about them?” She shook her head at that, causing Cyvar to frown for a moment. Damn.

“It was dark out, though I thought I saw something red in the moonlight. It was hard to tell though, but I think one of them was a woman.” The spurred tavern woman, perhaps? No.

“I see; thank you ma’am.”

“Oh sir, one more thing!” She leaned forward, barely several inches away as she whispered to him. “This isn’t the first incident. There was another smith here in Rivervale; ol’ Garvil, I think. He had a shipment of his weapons stolen last week. And even the Arrowmere’s silk business got robbed.” Now that was strange. Hasarel and Garvil both supplied House Indaris, and Arrowmere sold silks at a greatly discounted price to Aurelian for support in maintaining power in Rivervale. It could be a coincidence the three spots were connected to House Indaris in some way…

But Cyvar rarely believed in coincidence.

“That is interesting…” Cyvar reached into a satchel at his side, withdrawing two gold coins and offering it to the woman. “For the information.” The woman went wide eyed, looking at Cyvar before cautiously taking the money.

“Thank you sir.”

“No, thank you miss…?”

“Arawell.”

“Thank you Arawell, you’ve been very helpful. Now, don’t let me keep you from your day.” She gave a rushed curtsy, before taking off to leave Cyvar alone. “Hmmm…” He needed to speak with the bailiff in Rivervale, and probably the other towns. Two robberies and a store burning down in a week’s time was uncommon within the Crescent Hills. In truth, any form of crime like that was rare, so to have so many incidents in so short a time?

Cyvar looked down at the clay piece in his hand, the corner of his lip pulling up in an annoyed thought. No, this was no coincidence.

“So when you returned, what did Cyvar tell you?”

“Well,” Aurelian leaned back in his chair, hand waving in a dramatic motion, “I found out several smiths I have invested no small fortune into were robbed or destroyed in Rivervale, as well as a few other businesses in the other towns.”

“Anything else?”

“They were, apparently, using gunpowder and other explosives. I will fully admit that I know much of what comes into my lands, and gunpowder is not one of them. At the time once I found out I could only surmise it was being smuggled in.”

“Smuggled in?”

“Smuggled or being bought outside my knowledge, yes. Turns out I was right, but I found out much, much later. Likewise, I was not aware at that time it was the Unbidden. For now though, let me tell you exactly what Cyvar told me…”

#World of Warcraft #Skullcrusha writing #Tales of the Gilded lands #Aurelian Indaris

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loquaciousquark · 7 years

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2nd Cloudreach. Still cold for the season, but not as cold as last year

It’s been a while, journal. Longer than I would have liked.

I don’t even know where to start. So much has happened since the last entry, and I don’t...

From the beginning, I suppose.

Sebastian found the people that orchestrated the coup against his family (and, by proxy, the whole damned royal house of Starkhaven). I shouldn’t be surprised by now that every noble house in Kirkwall is built over an ancient crypt, but so it went, and so I was, and by the time we finally dealt with the demon that had been feeding off the whole family I’d learned more about the Harrimans’ innermost desires than I’d ever wanted.

I need to talk to Sebastian about it, but he keeps saying Andraste has given him peace over the deaths and I haven’t yet found the most tactful way to call him out on his right and utter bullshit. Not that I’m known for my tact anyway, but I’m also still feeling very tender in my own grief. I’m not quite ready to take on someone else’s on top of it.

Am I even lying to myself now? I’m so selfish. Not an ear to lend him if it’ll make me take a single step out of myself, and I’m still blaming him for the suffering.

Get a grip. Talk to Sebastian before next weekend, and that’s all there is to it.

3rd Cloudreach, because Toby came begging for a walk yesterday and who was I to tell the most adorable mabari in Thedas that I’d more interest in a quill than a leash

Anyway. That’s been the primary topic of discussion around our (stained, sticky, cracked, beloved) tables lately. Isabela in particular has not been able to quit giggling about the feather thing despite Sebastian’s rolling eyes. I wouldn’t mind forgetting it, though I will say I had no idea Fenris’s eyebrow could climb quite so high.

As for the rest--it’s not that I have anything against the qunari, but Maker take me if they’re not letting this city tear itself apart. Last I wrote they’d let a false chemical formula slip out with a thief, then made peaceful overtures to the Viscount that ended in the entire delegate being slaughtered at the stake by a fanatic. Funny, most of my memories of Lothering have hardly any high-stakes political disaster in them at all.

The city’s not doing well with it. They’ve cordoned off areas of the docks around the qunari compound--not with rope or fence or anything so obvious, but with a much more dangerous silent agreement throughout the whole hex. No one goes by the compound gates now except the guardsmen and me, and the eyes that always watch me make no secret of their hatred.

It’s simmering, Kirkwall. And as long as the qunari stay in that compound, even if they don’t ask for a damned thing, that low, deep heat’s only going to get worse.

That said, I went to the Chantry after Varnell’s slaughter to light candles for the qunari bodies. The Arishok may not have been overly fussed, but I was, and no matter the cause an innocent dead ought to have someone there for their passing, even if there’s no one to mourn them properly. Even so, if the sisters had known who I was lighting them for, I suspect they’d have been just as delighted as the Arishok, so perhaps it’s better they went quietly after all.

Dumar’s written asking me to come consult on a matter of some urgency. And secrecy, I think, given he’s told me to bring no one with, though by now he knows I’ll probably tell them anyway. Fenris keeps smoothing over my gaffes with the Arishok in dealing with my own side of the mess; if he needs to do it for me with the Viscount, too, I’m sure he’d be overjoyed to help.

Well. Tolerant enough to cooperate, maybe.

Maybe not.

6th Cloudreach. Muggy, warmer, not even the slightest breeze, which is terribly inconsiderate

The guards always let me pass now without a single word, only nods. It surprises me every time. What business in the world could a Fereldan farmgirl have hobnobbing with a city’s viscount, I ask you? Aside from being a very talented (and conveniently conscience-leashed) murderer, I suppose.

I don’t want to think of this, but I don’t have much of a choice. Dumar’s son has gone missing. I know Seamus well enough--he’s been in Mother’s circle for ages and I’ve danced with him at least twice at some of the otherwise forgettable parties. He’s a bit younger than me, but means well enough for his foolish, childish naivete.

Perhaps that makes me jaded. All I know is he’s got a father who loves him and wants him safe and sound and he’s thrown it all away like so much worthless refuse, and I can’t help but hate him a little for it.

Dumar thinks he’s defected to the Qun. If I have to go to the docks one more time to put my fat foot in my fat mouth in front of the Arishok, I’ll eat my least favorite feathered hat.

Later. I forgot to mention it this morning and I feel like it ought to be written somewhere before time and memory take it back

Completely unrelated to everything else--

I remembered something this morning. I know it was from before Lothering because I was hiding under the kitchen table with the oak spindles, and we didn’t take that with us in the move. I remembered Papa’s legs as he sat down, and Mother’s voice from where she was standing at the wall; they talked for a while about something I don’t recall, and then he sighed and said, “There’s too much grief in the world already, Leandra. I won’t hold onto mine if I can help it.”

I don’t remember what they were talking about. I don’t even know why it came to my head so suddenly this morning, save for the fact that I got up twice to make Mother’s tea before I realized I didn’t need to.

I told Aveline about it, and she said it was wise advice in her opinion. She’s lost both parents and her husband, too. I keep forgetting she knows about this grief.

It passes, she says.

It passes. It passes. It passes.

It must.

7th Cloudreach

Seamus is dead. So is Petrice.

I have never in my life been quick enough to stop someone from dying. I don’t know why I thought this would be any different.

10th Cloudreach. Cold today. Sharp breeze off the sea, heavy salt

She killed him in the Chantry.

I think that’s the part hardest for me to believe. She lied to him and killed him in the Chantry and knelt him before the altar, like he was praying, and believed in the deepest places of her heart that this would serve the Maker.

She posed him. Killed him in close quarters and cold blood and put him where he would hurt the most. She knew he believed in the Qun and made him kneel before the Maker’s altar and I just

Which is more profane in the eyes of the Maker, I wonder? The murder at Andraste’s feet, or the mockery she made of the worship after?

Poor Seamus. Poor fool. I wish I hadn’t said those things about him, even if I was bitter. No one should die like that--alone and suffering.

I hadn’t thought of my mother until this moment. I wish I still hadn’t.

Elthina turned on Petrice. Came at the end, after the blood spilled and spilled and spilled and she saw dead Seamus and the dozen dead blessed faithful that Petrice had persuaded to fight for her. I killed them all. Varric and Fenris and Anders helped, but it was my decision to kill them before Andraste. I could have wounded some, taken them out of the fight, but Seamus was dead and it hurt and I wanted them to hurt for him.

How will I ever look Sebastian in the face again?

Elthina turned on her, and a qunari sten in the shadows of the stairs put an arrow through her heart, and another between her eyes. No one flinched, not even Elthina, and there was such vicious joy in me when she fell I had to look away.

I was there when Dumar came for his son. Fenris waited for me outside, but Seamus was innocent and I couldn’t let him pass alone, not when I failed to save him. I mourned for Seamus. I grieve for Dumar more. How much more can he take before he’s worn to the bare weft? His lines have deepened more in three months than they have the last three years combined.

They call it a sanctuary. He held his dead son at the Maker’s altar, and his blood was on the silver censer.

Sometimes I wonder if the Arishok is right. There is nothing of faith in such a place.

15th Cloudreach. Warm again, foundry smoke beginning to float through Hightown again. Oddly comforting

They held Seamus’s pyre this morning. By now I can recite the service start to finish for the attending sister if she ever wants to take a day off, though the Transfigurations passages are infinitely more comforting than the Benedictions they always insist on using.

Dumar looks so old. He’s never been a young man, but I swear he’s aged thirty years since I saw him last. This city’s going to kill him.

The crowd was quiet, but there was such anger in it. Fenris thinks the guard will hold, but he and Aveline both looked uneasy at the thought tonight at WG.

17th Cloudreach. Winds off the sea all day

Merrill’s clan’s turned on her. Had one kill himself on a varterral rather than speak to her face-to-face. She’s got her little tool now, though, but at what cost? The people she’s trying to save can barely look at her.

I’d wonder if Meredith ever feels like this, except I don’t know if she’s trying to save anyone.

21st Cloudreach. It’s only nine in the morning and I’m already behind

Everything’s happening at once, and I’m not broad enough to cover it all. Isabela’s found her relic after who-knows-how-many years, Castillon’s going to kill her for it (I think? Might just be steal it from her; wasn’t perfectly clear given how damned loud she and Av were getting at each other), Aveline’s got a pair of elves defecting to the Qun for protection after a murder, and somehow both of them are expecting me to fix it all at once. Flames and pyre, I’m not paid enough for this.

Because I’m not paid at all, get it? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

We’re to go to Lowtown tonight to meet Isabela’s contact for this whatever. Aveline’s not happy about the wait, but of the two Isabela’s seems the more likely to end in personal injury, so I promised her I’d help her first.

Something feels so wrong about all of this. On the one hand, the city rising to a roil around me has been so distracting I haven’t thought of my mother in almost four days. On the other, it’s also been so distracting that when Fenris helped me up after a minor skirmish in Darktown, it took me a full minute of pointed glances from Varric to realize he hadn’t let go of my hand again after. He dropped it the moment we both realized and looked off to where Merrill was searching with the bodies, but the warmth lingered, after, and I kept flexing my fingers to try to keep it. Damn him. Damn me.

Aveline’s just sent me a note via a very short, angry runner. Not even a hello, rude. We’re to go straight from Isabela’s thing this evening to meet Aveline at the qunari compound for the Arishok. Guess I ought see if Fenris has plans, seeing as my night’s now been fully booked by everyone else.

It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine, and we’ll all be fine.

Why have I got such nerves over this?

[The next page is blank, followed by several pages written in many different hands. They include a page in short, square lettering that describes a climactic duel in a throne room wherein a city is successfully defended by its champion, though the prose is somewhat lurid; a page in a looping hand that means to wish well, but is often distracted mid-sentence by anecdotes of other friends; and one corner with a few crude anatomical drawings, an apology, and the phrase “Don’t look for me for a bit.”

There is also a folded letter of some length tucked between the pages that refers to several Chant passages regarding swift healing; a short, direct missive in a strong hand expressing personal gratitude, and that her husband will send food as soon as the reader is strong enough to eat; and a few lines in a tall, narrow hand with instructions on deep-wound care and the changing of bandages, as well as a schedule of several medicines.

The last is a familiar hand with tense, unpracticed lettering that reads, “This will never be enough to defeat you. Wake soon.”]

#fenris #hawke #fenris/hawke #dragon age #quark writes #hawke's journal tag #holy smokes i wrote a thing #it's been so LONG and it's probably horribly horribly unpracticed #i'm so sorry in advance #i created this fic to be an explicitly low-pressure warm-up exercise for this exact situation #but my gosh am i nervous about this #guess who's done with act 2 #this hawke technically :O

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