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philliamwrites · 3 years

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koi no yokan

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Kazuha / Aether

Tags: boys kissing, slight angst with happy ending, simping aether, practice sparring

Words: 2k

Summary: “A healthy mind in a healthy body,” Kazuha said, crossing the little circle they used as their practice area to the maple tree where they left their stuff. He took a dark cloth from his backpack and began wiping his body. Aether looked pointedly at the clear sky as if checking if one of Baal’s bolts would spontaneously flash and smite them. “Whatever thoughts trouble you will affect your performance and slowly but steadily deteriorate your physical capabilities.”

“Did the wind tell you that?” Aether wasn’t really into the idea that the gentle breezes cooling their hot skin spilt all his troubles. Be it his mourning for his absent sister or how horny he was for Kazuha. “Maybe the wind should just mind its own business.”

Notes: Inspired by @jeruki's fanart. My twitter: @philliam, my ko-fi: philliam

koi no yokan(恋の予感) (n.) lit. "Premonition of Love"; the sense one can have upon first meeting another person that the two of them are going to fall in love. It is the feeling that future love is inevitable.

In his journey through Teyvat, Aether had seen a lot of things. Dragons, assassins, sentient flowers shooting their frozen or burning seeds at him which never made for a funny joke when he and his party sat around the campfire in the cool evenings. Catboys grown into men who paid their taxes and lived a humble life near calm Springvale. Name it and Aether had seen it.

But Kaedehara Kazuha was something else entirely. When he fought, it was hard to look away. He had a dancer’s grace and a seemingly unerring instinct for what his opponent would do next. His sword wasn’t simply a weapon he swung to cut through enemy lines. It was part of him. Like Lumine completed Aether, Kazuha was only fully himself with a weapon in his hand. This kind of commitment Aether only knew from Xiao, but Kazuha made his devotion for battle look divine; so much purer. Almost innocent in a way that did not speak of foolishness or guilelessness or the innocence of a child that simply waited to be consumed by the world. Kazuha’s innocence was something honest, linked to the making at the heart of the world.

He looked happiest with his sword slicing through the air. He looked graceful plunging from the skies like a hawk pouncing to catch its prey. He looked deliciously fuckable with his hitatare slipping off his shoulders and revealing smooth, white skin glistening with sweat. Aether had noticed a little scar winking at him whenever the fabric slipped and wondered how it would taste like near that elegant curve where Kazuha’s chest turned to solid, firm abs. He imagined leaning over and tasting Kazuha’s skin and suck—

A harsh blow swiped his feet from under him. The world spun and for a moment Aether was flying again, soaring through the sky before golden eyes flashed in malice and his sister was taken from him. The reality of Lumine being absent would come to Aether in flashes. He knew it to be so, but he could not feel it to be true except in these sudden bursts of realisation. The light of that strange, unthinkable truth would dazzle him for a moment and then it would be gone again, a fleeting sense of terrible loss. The pain almost always felt the same, and all he could do in that moment was take it, endure the unbearable and bear it.

It ended as quickly as it stared. Aether’s back hit the hard ground, the impact punching the breath out of his lungs. He stared up at the beautiful crimson sky stretching overhead—red like so many things in Inazuma which was fitting for the country governed by a goddess with a taste for blood.

But then, Kazuha’s even more beautiful face bent over him.

“Focus, Aether,” he said, offering his hand. Aether imagined pulling Kazuha down next to him where they would roll in the dirt like two puppies, drunk on adrenaline and intoxicated with the addicting taste of defiling these sacred lands where the cries of helpless, innocent men would never be heard over the ever-present roar of thunder. Where neither of them was welcome.

Instead, he allowed Kazuha to pull him back up on his feet, slick skin against slick skin, with a swift ease that left little room for imagination how else he could manhandle Aether. He swallowed, his mouth dry.

Kazuha exhaled softly, and even in that companionable silence Aether had grown used to, it was loud enough to catch his attention. “Where are your thoughts, Aether?” Kazuha asked.

Aether kicked some pebbles. He could hardly confess how he imagined sucking Kazuha off. Somehow he didn’t think someone as versed, with a soul consumed by wanderlust like Kazuha, would like to hear that. So he simply shrugged, inspecting the hilt of his wooden practice sword as if it could be held accountable for his lack of focus.

“Oh, you know,” he said, shrugging. “Archons and Visions and the like. The usual stuff.”

Kazuha’s eyebrows rose. Aether held his stare for a long minute but ended up turning away first. Somehow he didn’t believe secrets could be kept hidden for too long from those keen scarlet eyes, and while he wouldn’t mind presenting his body to him, he wasn’t too comfortable bearing his very soul to someone he’d known for less than a month. He wondered if that even mattered. He had let Kaeya rail him in much shorter time than that.

“A healthy mind in a healthy body,” Kazuha said, crossing the little circle they used as their practice area to the maple tree where they left their stuff. He took a dark cloth from his backpack and began wiping his body. Aether looked pointedly at the clear sky as if checking if one of Baal’s bolts would spontaneously flash and smite them. “Whatever thoughts trouble you will affect your performance and slowly but steadily deteriorate your physical capabilities.”

The wind picked up, tossing Aether’s hair left and right so it came even more loose after their sparring. He was sure his mind played tricks on him, but somewhere in the distance it sounded like Venti’s clear, bell-like laughter. If this was his weird way of trying to set him up, Aether was not happy with it.

“No, you just did.” Kazuha finished cleaning himself, but was in no apparent hurry to tie up his hitatare. When he looked back up at Aether, his smile was a little mischievous but still gentle, and Aether wanted to kiss that stupid grin away. He flopped down next to Kazuha. Dry maple leaves rustled under his body and he took one in his fingers, turning it this and that way just so he could observe the crimson and stall time.

If he met the Raiden Shogun and she didn’t have the answers he desired, then what? How much longer would he have to journey, to tread foreign countries and dangerous lands until he found what Lumine needed him to see? Why was this arduous task better suited than simply telling him? The only logical answer was that during her own travels, Lumine had grown to not trust him in a way only she understood and couldn’t confide in him. The thought closed like a cold fist around Aether’s heart. There was nothing logical about that, for if Lumine chose to hide her heart from Aether, where would that leave him? Loneliness spread like a dark stain inside him, a horror that stole his breath and tightened his chest. Black dots danced across his vision. Aether noticed his body moving without his will, he sat up, afraid he might suffocate. His heart. His heart wasn’t in his chest anymore. It was in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Just thinking she doesn’t need me, Lumine is gone forever and all I have loved, I have loved alone—

A warm hand grasped his, squeezing his fingers painfully until his splintering mind reassembled to the present. Aether stared at Kazuha with wide eyes, filled with horror, with fear, he just couldn’t understand how anyone bore that loneliness without a twin, without another part of their soul bearing the harsh world with them and give comfort and respite.

“Aether?”

Aether flinched, only noticing then how close Kazuha hovered near his face. When he looked down, he saw how his golden strands were caught between Kazuha’s slender fingers.

“There was a maple leaf in your hair,” Kazuha said, not taking his eyes away from Aether.

“Oh.” Aether’s reeling thoughts momentarily halted at this whimsical observation, so simple and apart from his anxious feelings. He looked up at the grand tree above them, crying red leaves. “Really?”

Kazuha still looked at him. A gentle tug lowered Aether’s head back down.

“No,” he said, and then kissed him. His soft lips brushed against Aether’s once, then twice and then he pressed his mouth to his, pushing Aether to the solid, hard ground. One leg stole between Aether’s, pressing a knee against his crotch, and Oooh. Until now, Aether had thought Kazuha to be soft and restrained, a man more servant to the voice of nature than his own desires. But there was nothing soft or restrained about the way he pinned Aether to the ground now, stole his breath and swallowed all those little huffs and moans, making Aether go crazy with lust.

Swift fingers dug into his bare waist. Aether was looking forward to the bruises he’d see blossoming the next morning. Their bodies pressed together hard; Aether arched his back, hoping that if he just willed it hard enough, he would become one with Kazuha and fill that gnawing black hole inside him. Kazuha reached out and put his thumb to Aether’s jawline. The tips of his fingers brushed the hollow of his throat and pushed against the pulse point where Aether’s blood visibly thundered in exalting beats against his skin.

Kazuha’s tongue darted across Aether’s lower lip. Willingly, Aether opened his mouth, longing to savour his taste and finally quench his thirst for the exquisite being that Kaedahara Kazuha was.

But Kazuha remained still, their mouths inches away from each other, each inhaling the other’s breath. Aether opened his eyes, meeting Kazuha’s that had turned so much darker. Wilder.

“You don’t even know what you do to people, do you?” he mumbled against Aether’s lips. His nose grazed his cheek as he dove for Aether’s jawline, his neck, mapping Aether’s face with his lips and teeth. Aether remembered Kazuha saying once that he smelled like stars, and wondered how that worked.

“What—“ Aether exhaled a long, shuddering breath. “—do you mean?” He tried to buck up into Kazuha, to create some delicious friction between them, but Kazuha’s grip around his waist was like iron. Aether whined, but Kazuha made with one, sharp bite pretty clear that whatever happened would only happen on his volition.

“The way you move, the way you look and think no one notices.” Amusement stole into Kazuha’s voice. “Or might you think only I don’t notice?”

“I am anything but subtle,” Aether acknowledged, planting a kiss on Kazuha’s temple. He chuckled against Aether’s skin. “And you don’t necessarily make it easier, fighting like this.” His hands sneaked inside Kazuha’s hitatare, fingers trembling with excitement spread against his warm chest.

Kazuha inhaled sharply. His own fingers trailed a path up Aether’s waistline, nails scratching the sensitive skin and sending shivers all over his body. “Look who’s talking. It’s hard focusing on anything else with you walking around like this.”

Aether laughed, dark and rich. “It’s my pleasure.”

“No.” Kazuha tugged the fabric of Aether’s black collar down and kissed his neck. “It’s mine.”

Aether didn’t know how long they stayed like this, cradled against the maple tree’s trunk, growing drunk on kisses and lust and the taste of each other until their lips were bruised. At some point, they had dozed off under the setting sun that made way to twinkling stars that winked at them in mischief. Only they knew the secrets and confessions they shared, absolving one another from their darkest sins.

“I know you seek your sister,” Kazuha said, studying the joints and bumps on Aether’s fingers before he brought them to his lips. “We both follow steps of people dear to us, choosing to ignore we only run after shadows. I think that is why my soul refuses to leave you.”

Familiar pain throbbed in Aether’s chest, but where it once was sharp and overwhelming, it now had softened to a dull song. Bearable. “I’m sure one day we’ll catch up to them.” He intertwined his legs with Kazuha’s, felt the warmth radiate off his body. “Together.”

#genshin impact #genshin #ao3 #philliamwrites #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact aether #genshin impact kaedahara kazuha #kazuha x aether #kazuther #genshin impact kazuha x aether #genshin impact kazuther

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missfangirll · 3 years

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i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

Fandom: The Untamed Rating: General Relationship: Song Lan / Xiao Xingchen Tags: Canonical Character Death, Fix-it, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a happy ending, Pining Chapters: 3 Summary: Song Lan has lost Xingchen twice. How will he endure after losing him a third time?

Read on AO3

This has lived in my head for a while and finally demanded attention. I am still not over Yi City and this is my attempt at a fix-it.

My eternal gratitute for @stormy-seasons who is a fantastic beta reader, and has helped and encouraged me immensely. Any remaining mistakes are mine. :)

- - - - -

Chapter 1: A road too wide

The road goes ever on and on Out from the door where it began. Now far ahead the road has gone, Let others follow it who can! Let them a journey new begin, But I at last with weary feet Will turn towards the lighted inn, My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

When Wei Wuxian had asked him, all that time ago, what he wanted to do now that he had gained his life back, he didn't have to think much to answer.

“Roam the world with Shuanghua, fight evil alongside Xingchen.”

It was what he had always done, a comfortable routine, not that different from before. No use in dwelling on the past, he had thought then. He was used to wandering the world alone, had done so for years and years in search of Xingchen, for a chance to apologize, to make things right again. Even if the road had felt too wide at times when he walked it alone, he had been content to do what once had been their shared goal: eliminate the evil that lingered in the world. In doing that he had felt close to Xingchen, and it had given him a focus other than his grief, his guilt.

He had never been one for expressing his feelings verbally, his words at the temple a festering proof of that, but he had still clung to that fraying hope of if only: if only he found Xingchen, if only he would listen, if only he could find the words, if only.

But it was idle foolishness to ponder on things lost and words unsaid.

He had lost everything that fateful day in Yi City, had lost his life, had lost Xingchen, had watched Xue Yang succeed. Even if it had been Xingchen’s hand and blade in the end, Song Lan refused to place any blame on him. It had been Xue Yang’s devious tongue that had poisoned Xingchen’s heart, Xue Yang’s twisted mind that had driven him to such hopeless despair that he had seen no other way out than the sword that had failed him.

When the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-Jun had severed Xue Yang‘s hold on him, he had been grateful, of course he had, but not particularly for the existence he had been granted. It had felt daunting, to face the world again, after years of living-not-living as a puppet. But he had accepted the spirit-trapping pouch Wei Wuxian had given him with shaking hands and a quivering heart. There was no one else left to care for Xingchen, and even when Wei Wuxian had told him that the soul inside the bag was shattered, broken, he had never once wavered in his decision. Xingchen and him, they belonged to each other, no matter the form, and so, caring for him was his responsibility. He wouldn't leave him, no matter how much it hurt.

For a short while he really had thought, had hoped, that with Shuanghua and Xingchen’s soul as his companions, the world would feel less empty, less silent, but ever since he had left Yi City behind, he had felt wrong, uneasy, in the way perception shifted when thunderstorms shadowed everything in an amber hue. He felt hollowed, a part of himself left behind in a black coffin adorned with talismans.

The road seemed wider than ever before, the silence even more unbearable now. Each room was too large, each bed too empty, each meal bland. Colours lost their vibrancy, any music was reduced to dull rhythms. He felt as if the veil of Xue Yang‘s influence hadn‘t fully lifted, but since Wei Wuxian had assured him he was free, he blamed being a living corpse for his dimmed senses.

Only in a fight did he feel almost as balanced as before, Fuxue still a trusted companion. He moved with the same deadly precision he always had, his senses sharpened by adrenaline and his energy flow. (It had been a surprise that his golden core seemed almost unaffected by the whole living-dead business, but for everything else he had lost, it was a relief that this at least seemed largely intact.)

Sometimes, very rarely, he even used Shuanghua on a night hunt. Not so much for his own sake, because the image of that blade at Xingchen's throat haunted him still, but for the sword's, which seemed restless without its master. After those hunts he would tell Xingchen about it in his mind, how his sword missed him, how the world missed him. (He felt he had not earned the right to miss Xingchen, and so said nothing of himself.)

When he talked to Xingchen, wordlessly, soundlessly, every time, every conversation began the same.

I am sorry.

-☾-•-❅-

The inn wasn't that different from any other he had taken shelter in, the wooden floors dark with age, but it was clean and inexpensive. He didn't really have to sleep as much as he’d had to when he had been human, but old habits were hard to break. Food wasn't a necessity anymore either, and most days it was a strenuous task, given the state of his tongue, but he still could enjoy the texture, the smell and temperature of meals. Losing his tongue had been as horrifying as losing his eyes so long ago, but he found that, with time, he had started to adapt. Communication was difficult at times, especially when the other party couldn’t read, but he had found most people understood his combination of facial expressions and humming sounds. It wasn't perfect and sometimes led to misunderstandings, but all in all it wasn't as arduous as he had thought.

After he had secured a room for the night – with a glance at the inn-keeper, followed by a nod towards the stairs, which she understood immediately – he sat in a corner of the small dining room, staring at the bowl of rice and steamed vegetables in front of him. The air smelled heavy, of food and unwashed people, and it made his skin prickle. He stirred halfheartedly in his rice, wishing it gone so he could escape to the temporary safety of his room.

When Song Lan finds him again, Xingchen is perched atop a wobbly wooden fence, one arm looped around the post next to him. In one hand he holds a few small peaches, the other, dripping with fruit juice, he holds out to Song Lan, offering him a piece. His smile is blinding, and Song Lan feels an urge to kiss away the sticky remnants of peach juice on his lips. He mock-frowns at the offered peach, then at Xingchen. Xingchen’s smile widens and he shakes his hand a little for emphasis. “You don't even need to touch it, Zichen,” he offers, playful and lighthearted, “just try it. It’s really good!” Song Lan has to hide his smile, glaring at the other for good measure, then carefully leans down, taking the offered piece between his lips. It is really good.

The sound of a cup being slammed on a table startled Song Lan out of his reverie. The mood of the company at the next table had grown noticeably more inebriated and, with a disappointed look at his bowl, Song Lan got up to retreat to his own room. He hated to waste food, but the thought of eating in company – in this company – made his stomach turn.

Alone in his room, the door closed firmly behind him, he finally felt able to breathe again. Setting Shuanghua and Fuxue on the table, he began his evening rituals. Eventually, with his hair down and only in a thin under robe, he sat on the bed, Xingchen's spirit pouch in front of him. It was not that the pouch ever left his side during the day, but these moments, alone, vulnerable, were special to Song Lan in a way he couldn‘t describe.

Softly caressing the silky cloth, he calmed his breathing, trying to convey his thoughts to Xingchen‘s soul.

I am sorry.

That was what he had wanted to say, when he had first lost him, but by now that wasn't the only important thing anymore.

I love you.

Come back.

He wasn't sure if he wanted Xingchen to come back, like Xue Yang had intended, as a fierce corpse like Song Lan was. Xingchen was warmth, life, sunlight – Song Lan had never understood why anyone would compare him to the moon, he had never met anyone as bright and warm – and being trapped in this lifeless existence wasn't something Song Lan wished for him.

And yet.

Even if Xingchen wouldn't return to him, he could mend his soul and enter the cycle of reincarnation, could eventually be born again. (Song Lan very deliberately didn't think about what that meant for him, since he wouldn't die of old age in the foreseeable future.)

Sighing, he laid down next to the pouch, cradling it to his chest, extinguishing the candle with a flick of his wrist. He couldn‘t speak, but had made a habit of pressing the pouch softly to his throat or chest and humming softly, hoping that the vibrations would travel and that Xingchen would somehow sense them. Sometimes, he hummed a childrens‘ song or a lullaby, a faint echo from another life, other times it was just a tuneless melody, anything to make Xingchen feel less alone. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift off.

It is deep in the night when Song Lan wakes with a start. Immediately he knows what startled him: Xingchen isn't by his side anymore, but before Song Lan can begin to worry, he sees him, standing by the open window. The moonlight cascades around him in silver waves, making him look ethereal, like a spirit from another world. He is, in a way, Song Lan muses as he watches him. Xingchen has his eyes raised to the moon, the light caressing his elegant cheekbones, his fine nose, the graceful bow of his lips. With a slight movement, a stray strand of hair falls over his face and he pushes it behind his ear with an almost impatient gesture. Then, seeing Song Lan from the corner of his eye, he turns, his lips turning upwards into a soft smile. Wordlessly, he abandons his place at the windowsill and returns to the bed, lying down next to Song Lan, facing him. Still smiling, he closes his eyes, and Song Lan breathes him in.

Song Lan didn't dream. He stopped dreaming the day Shuanghua had ended his life, his nights filled with something akin to deep meditation, but not real sleep. Thus, he woke deeply disoriented, instantly missing Xingchen‘s sleepy warmth at his side, blindly reaching for him under the covers. Reality slowly dripped into his consciousness, the realisation that Xingchen wouldn't be there striking him so forcefully he gasped for air.

The pain of missing Xingchen never went away, always lingered in the back of his mind, but this was immeasurably worse: The memory had been so real, he still could smell Xingchen‘s hair oil, feel his warm touch, hear his soft sleepy breaths. Closing his eyes with a groan, Song Lan forced himself up and out of bed. He wouldn't find any more rest anyway and the only thing that could soothe his aching heart, he knew that from experience, was distraction, movement, so he went on to begin his day.

After donning his robes and putting his few belongings back into his qiankun pouch, he silently slipped down the stairs and out of the house, both swords strapped to his back. Only a pale grey shimmer at the horizon promised the coming sunrise, but the small village still lay in deep silence. Song Lan followed the unpaved road out of town.

“Maybe I should hold onto you, so you don't get lost,” Xingchen grins at him, full of mirth, and swiftly, gracefully, takes Song Lan‘s hand in his. Song Lan almost trips over his own feet, but Xingchen’s smile is so radiant, his eyes sparkling with so much joy, that every excuse why they shouldn’t be holding hands in broad daylight on a road dies on his tongue. Wordlessly, he can only stare at the man beside him and hold on.

Song Lan‘s hand clenched around the spirit bag on his belt. Squinting at the sun above him, he took a moment to orient himself. The next village was his intended destination, the rumors of the vile energy and vengeful spirits troubling it had accompanied him for days. Not much time left before sundown, he realised, and quickened his pace.

-☾-•-❅-

The village was as unassuming as he had expected: a single road, no vendors, not even an inn. When he spotted an elderly woman in a doorway, he hastened to greet her with a polite bow, tapping three fingers to his mouth to indicate he couldn’t speak. Curious, she eyed the two swords on his back.

“Are you a cultivator, Daozhang? Did you come for the ghost?“

Song Lan nodded and raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

The woman gestured to the setting sun. “It is good that you arrived in time, Daozhang.” She sighed. “We have been plagued by that one for a while, and are afraid she will find another victim tonight.“

Song Lan gestured for her to continue.

“Well, you see, on a clear night like this, her lover left her,“ the woman said bluntly, and Song Lan began to understand. It always went like this: lovers lost, friends betrayed, brothers deceived. Greed, anger, hatred, but most of all, love - turned and twisted. He sighed inwardly: those were not easily put to rest. The woman went on.

“It… She was a girl from the village. Her name was Xiao An, they were betrothed. But then he… Well, after she hanged herself in his bedroom, he left the village, but she remained in that house. We hear her crying, every night.“ She shuddered.

“Then, last week, a young man didn't return home to his family one night. We found him the next morning, he was…“ She trailed off, a haunted expression in her eyes. Shaking her head, she said, “Forgive me, Daozhang, I cannot tell you. He was my granddaughter's beloved, and what she did to him…“

She turned towards Song Lan, pleading. “We beg you, Daozhang, release her spirit. We cannot give you much, but-“

Song Lan interrupted her with a grunt and a headshake. Then, with another raised eyebrow, he half-turned into the direction the woman had pointed to earlier, silently asking the way.

She nodded. “It is the last house on the left side, you cannot miss it. It has been unoccupied since… Well, since then.“ With a deep inhale, she bowed to Song Lan. “Thank you, Daozhang. Your help is much appreciated.“ With a nod, the cultivator left into the direction she had indicated.

Since it had already been almost sunset when he arrived in the village, he wasted no time. As he walked towards the abandoned house, he prepared some talismans for the fight ahead.

He notices the fierce corpse behind him a heartbeat too late, too late to turn around and block its fury with Fuxue, too late to dodge the attack. Half-turned, he watches a hand descend towards his neck, unnaturally slow, as if through mud, before silver lightning strikes, cutting the offending arm off. Stunned, he watches as the white-clad figure gracefully follows the motion of the blade, using the momentum to behead the remaining corpse behind Song Lan.

“My thanks,” he pants, only to be grabbed by his sleeve and turned around with more force than strictly necessary. “Did it get you?”, Xingchen demands. “Are you hurt?” Song Lan shakes his head and Xingchen’s shoulders slump a little. Silently he steps closer and embraces Song Lan in a one-armed hug, hiding his face in the crook of the other’s neck.

Song Lan shook himself out of his thoughts. It wouldn't do to get distracted on a night hunt, he scolded himself. Shaking his head to clear it a bit, he mustered the talismans he had prepared, meticulously adjusting a few strokes. Perhaps because he was so focused on that, he realised too late that the trees around him had grown eerily quiet: no wind moved the branches, no bird sang to its mate, no insect buzzed evening songs. Instead, he heard a ghostly whisper that seemed to come from all around him. Unsheathing Fuxue, Song Lan carefully approached the deserted hut, only to stop abruptly when he heard his name.

Song Daozhang.

He couldn‘t answer, even if he had wanted to, so he cautiously stepped closer, eyes darting around to find the spirit that undoubtedly was responsible for this. His steps faltered and he stumbled, as the spirit's next words rustled in his ears.

You left him too, didn't you?

He fought to focus past the heartache and tear-blurred vision.

I didn't want to. I didn't want to. I didn't…

You left him. You left him. You left him and he died. He died, Daozhang.

He had to close his eyes for a moment. He knew this was a vengeful spirit, using his own thoughts against him, and still he was helpless against the guilt that threatened to weigh him down. Determined not to be bested, he turned around in search for the ghost, but all he could make out was that eerie whisper.

He died. He died. He died. HE DIED!

Suddenly, with a gust of energy that even smelled evil, foul and nauseating, the spirit materialised directly behind him, so close he could feel Shuanghua vibrate in warning. He whirled around and struck, only for the spirit to duck away and claw at him. He grunted with shock at a searing pain in his chest, then hurled Fuxue at the ghost‘s neck. The blade connected, and with a loud screech the figure dissolved, leaving only a cloud of dark, coiling energy behind.

Panting heavily, Song Lan dropped Fuxue – with a silent apology to the blade for such undignified treatment – and fumbled for a talisman. In its light, the black mist cleared and left only some sticky black residue in the tall grass.

With a groan, Song Lan dropped unceremoniously down into the grass next to his blade. His breathing slowly calming, he carefully took stock of himself. His robes were torn open, his chest drenched in blood from three large, ragged cuts, leading from his left shoulder down to the opposite hip. He winced and reached for the qiankun bag at his belt to find something to staunch the bleeding, and froze.

The spirit pouch was gone.

Frantically, he scrambled to his knees, all pain forgotten in his rising panic. Sifting through the tall grass where he had stood mere minutes before, he paid no mind to the sharp blades of grass against his hands, his only focus to find it again.

There. With a wave of unmeasurable relief, he spotted the well-worn fabric and came closer to retrieve it, already silently apologising to Xingchen that he had let them be parted so easily.

But all words died when he saw the state of the pouch.

The silk was torn, gashed open like his chest, black and gaping where embroidered flowers should have been.

No. Please, no.

When Xingchen had died, Song Lan had been under the puppet master’s control, but seen all of it unfold, the heartbreak, Xue Yang‘s gleeful explanations, the agony in Xingchen‘s face when he finally put Shuanghua to his own throat. It had etched itself in his memory, and when he finally was free of the needles, he had relived this moment over and over, every time a helpless spectator. The heartbreak he had felt then, the horror, the helplessness, had almost swallowed him, and only Xingchen‘s presence in the spirit pouch had been a thin ray of hope in the darkness.

But nothing, nothing he had felt then could be compared to the terror that now squeezed his heart with an iron fist.

The pouch was empty.

#the untamed #chen qing ling #cql #modao zushi #mdzs #the untamed fic #song lan #song zichen #xiao xingchen #songxiao #angst with a happy ending #fix-it #my writing

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gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years

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ML What if (Part 2)

(Part 1)

(What if Marinette did choose Chloé instead of Kagami in Loveater?)

-Adrien did feel awful about telling that to Kagami, but he needed to be honest with her. But he knows he screwed up big time. He needed some advice.

-The party! Marinette was helping her parents with the catering. While it did mean he would be stuck at that stuffy party again, he could really use a friend.

-He starts making his way towards the party

_______________________________________________________________________

-Ladybug drops Chloé off back on the roof she found her on, Chloé Hands over the miraculous, Happy that Ladybug trusted her again. Ladybug however wasn't in such high spirits. Chat noir was clearly not 100%. She needed to talk with him next time, She was his partner, and she knows that he wasn't a fan of that previous talk they had earlier. Not that she could blame him, he didn't understand how bad things could be when Identities get revealed, how feelings can be manipulated.

-”If your bummed about Chat noir, you can always just take his miraculous and let me do it full time!”

-Ladybug gave Chloé a rather Icy glare. That made the blonde shut up.

-”...Sorry Ladybug. I was trying to lighten the mood.”

-”Don't joke about that again. Thank you for your help.”

-Ladybug leaves, she needed to get the miraculous back to Fu, and then she would go back and help her parents. Kagami and Adrien probably found each other again and can enjoy their date in peace.

-Ladybug detransformed and started heading to the park, when she suddenly heard some rather loud clangs and bangs. it was coming from the direction of the park. Master fu!

-She thought she had ditched Mayura when she went to Fu, this must have been Hawkmoth’s plan!

-She quickly recharges Tikki and rushes to the park to save the old guardian.

-Mayura was doing her best to try and crack the shell, but she was starting to get fatigued and the shell wasn't breaking. Without Hawkmoth, this was proving to be a much more arduous task.

-”Back away Mayura!”

-Ladybug and Mayura clash. Jade turtle disengages his shield and catches his breath.

-Mayura was formidable, but she was not 100% and she was finding herself on the back foot against the young heroine.

- Jade turtle throws his shield and knocks Mayura off balance.

- Allowing Ladybug to tie her up with her Yo-yo.

_______________________________________________________________________

-Hawkmoth approaches the source of the negative emotion, and notices it was Kagami. He could work with this.

-Hawkmoth approaches the young fencer.

-Kagami quickly gets ready to fight only for the man to reveal a dragon miraculous for her.

-”I can sense your turmoil Kagami. An over protective mother that limits your freedom, and your first love cruelly breaking your heart.”

-Kagami turns away from him, claiming he knew nothing.

-”I know emotion, and I can tell you how to capture that boy’s heart. Achieve victory, win against this ‘Other girl’.” Playing on her competitive nature.

-Kagami was not in the most stable of states, and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

-Kagami asked for the miraculous. Hawkmoth smiled as he gave it to her.

-The dragon Kwami popped out.

-”Miss Kagami what are you....”

-”Longg! Bring the storm!”

-Ryuuko stood in front of Hawkmoth.

-”Big mistake giving me a weapon.”

-Ryuuko Attacked Hawkmoth. Like hell she would work for the butterfly jerk! She wasn't so weak as to willingly join this creep!

-Ryuuko was surprised by the skilled Hawkmoth, who seemed to match her swordplay.

-”Quite a bold move, attacking me as soon as I gave you the miraculous. But you are foolish if you think I came unprepared.”

-Hawkmoth opened the staff and the Akuma flew out and touched her sword, much to her horror.

(And what should the akumatized Ryuuko be called? I am open to suggestions.)

#ml what if #alt miracle queen #alt loveater #miraculous ladybug #ml #ml au #ryuuko #hawkmoth #ladybug

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eiffelchoc · 3 years

Text

Afraid of the Unknown

“Please! Just be normal!”

It was almost midnight when the desperate scream of our neighbor disrupted our sleep. The scream was ear-splitting and made the voice unrecognizable, nevertheless we knew who it belonged to. It had to be coming from the mother of the strange girl.

Who else would be screaming at someone, asking them to be normal at this hour? Of course, it was someone who was dealing with that person. Her daughter is the only one that stood out from the rest of us villagers. For all the wrong reasons though. She is vastly different from us.

After the scream, there was a loud thud and the sound of a door banging. It was then followed by silence. After a few minutes, we decided that it was over, we closed our curtains and turned off the lights that were lit again due to the commotion.

The morning came and everyone went with their morning routines. At exactly 8:30 in the morning, we kissed our kids goodbye. We then waited by our front windows, staring at the house that served the show last night.

Half a minute passed, and the girl walked out of their door. Immediately we scanned her appearance from head to toe. Her uniform was just like the other kid’s but other than that she is something we cannot grasp. If the midwife of the village did not claim to have helped with her birth, we would all think that she came from a foreign place.

“what in the world?” We all turned our head towards the direction of the voice. It was one of our respective neighbors, his eyebrows furrowing deeper as the seconds go by. He then raised his right arm and pointed back to the direction of the subject of our stares earlier.

“her hair, what did she do with it?” with his question, we all noticed what he was pertaining to. The girl’s long hair was now at her shoulders. The cut was evidently not clean as well. We will not be surprised if she were to tell us that she just held the scissors in her hand and cut her hair like a madman.

It was disheveled and not uniform at all. Some strands were at shoulder level, while some were above and below her ears. “What are you all looking at?!” the girl yelled at us. We kept silent; we did not want to involve ourselves with her likes.

She rolled her eyes at us and walked her way towards the village school. We sure do hope she will not spread her virus to our kids.

“Alright, go into your groups and work on your art tasks” our teacher commanded, and we all went to our respective groups. Unfortunately, we have the odd girl in our class, it is a good thing that the teacher is considerate and had her work alone, that way she will not be able to influence us with her strange ideas.

“Want to borrow mine?” She offered to one of our classmates who has been rummaging her bag searching for something. “Is that the scissors you used to cut your hair?” The latter asked. “And if it is?” she questioned, raising her left brow.

“Then, no thank you, I don’t want your filthy hair on my project” our classmate looked at her in grimace and went back to her group. The freakish girl of our village only rolled her eyes and continued with her work.

“School is supposed to be over a few minutes ago, right?” one of our neighbors inquired. The one beside him opened his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by the loud sound of a door banging.

The door vomited the teacher of the village, he was dragging the strange one along. We all furrowed our eyebrows, wondering what she could have done now for the respectable teacher to display such actions.

The teacher stopped at the heart of our village and shoved the girl on the ground. “Everyone! I regret showing such violence however I can no longer stand the horrendous ideas this girl surrounds herself. She said, she plans to leave the walls of our village!”

Most of us gasped at the ludicrous notion, some observed the girl with repugnance. Everyone knows only men gets to leave the village from time to time, girls and women should only stay and care for the village.

Our thoughts were disrupted by a laugh, a maniacal one. It came from the subject of our interest. We scrunched our faces even deeper and thought of how eerie and possibly crazy the girl in front of us is.

“Back when I was younger, you did not like my ideas and the words that came out of my lips, now that I say I want to leave, you look like you all are about to throw up! Well, what is it then?! what is it that you want me to do?!”

There she is again, yelling at us with her nonsense, she thinks she is bright but all she has is her stupidity. Too stupid to understand our ways here, this is where it has gotten her, she has gone mental. Pathetic.

We remained silent, waiting for what else she had in store to scream for. The silence was broken by a pained exhale of breath. The owner was her mother. We stepped to our sides to give way for her mother, for her to get a good look at her mother’s pained, disappointed, and desperate expression.

Her jaw dropped when her mother looked her straight in the eyes, disgust apparent on her features. “you are no daughter of mine.” Then the middle-aged woman turned her back and walked away, never looking back.

Her eyes narrowed and tears raced down her cheeks, she opened her mouth, seeming to say something but only exhaled shaky breaths. We began to murmur our thoughts, but she was deaf to it. she did not move from her position, her expression did not change, and she only clenched the hem of her skirt.

She stayed that way for a few minutes before standing up. “Well, there you heard it people! I am no longer her daughter! And since I do not have a father either, then I no longer have a reason to stay here!” Her eyes were piercing as she glared at us village people. Then she ran.

We stood there, too dumbfounded to realize what was going on. “Idiots! Don’t let her run away!” someone finally broke our idiotic trance. So then we ran as well. Our village being a small area, she was already nearing the gates.

A few men got hold of her and she thrashed around causing detrimental effects on the men near her. She screeched at the top of her lungs and it made us all halt and observe her. “You all treat me as if I’m some crazy person, but do you realize how nitwitted you all are?!!”

“If you let me out, nothing will change except for the fact that you won’t have to be wary of me anymore! Don't you understand?!” She looked at us one by one. Her eyes seem to tell us how brainless we were.

“It’s you who does not understand anything, you would not survive out there! Indeed, we do not like you one bit, but we are not heartless people who will just let you leave knowing what awaits you!” The teacher told her, still catching his breath from the running.

One of us smirked while pointing at the gates. “The gates are nothing but a massive metal door, there are no bars and certainly no tools to aid her escape.” As it clicked in our minds, we laughed at the situation, we have claimed victory after all.

However, the freak had other plans, so foolish it mentally drained us. She banged her fists on the metal doors while shrieking like a psychopath. She continued until her fists bled the color of crimson. Then she stopped.

“This village is technically a prison, if you don’t want someone to leave, then change your ways, imbeciles.” she said while looking at her soiled shoes. “You think our neighborhood is a peaceful one with cooperative people? No! What this place consists of are only those with power, and those who are too naïve to realize they’re being played on!”

“There she goes again with her hogwash views” one of the men who tried to stop her earlier sneered. “You’ve always been a strange one, but now you’re no different from a crazy person” the teacher stated, his eyes narrowing at the girl. Then we remembered, she was always pondering over things, asking questions left to right.

“Why can’t I be the future teacher of our village?” the little girl stared at the teacher with her eyes rounded with curiosity. “Because you can’t, being a teacher is an arduous work and is too much for you to handle, you are a girl after all.”

We thought she was merely confused, maybe she just has a tough time understanding basic concepts, but it did not stop there. She questioned everything. Why girls were not given complicated tasks at school like the boys, why the poor portion of the small village stayed poor for the rest of their lives no matter how many hours they worked, and why the rich had so much to eat and an extensive free time.

At our horror, she even made three children her lackeys. First it was only two girls, they followed her everywhere. Then after, a boy joined their group, and every time the strange one opened her mouth, their eyes would sparkle, full of hope.

Then she did it, she dug herself a hole and fell in it. Standing strongly at the heart of our small village, she argued with the teacher. She bickered about how the place and its people needed to change. And before she knew it, we have formed a circle around them, listening to their conversation.

We began to state our opposing thoughts, yelling at her so that she could never raise her voice and spout nonsense continuously. She looked at her minions who was also at the circle, seeking for help. Her minions just stood, biting their lips, and looking down.

That day, she was reminded that she was different, she was alone. After that event, she became more strange—almost scary. She never tried to befriend anyone again. She would speak only a few times a day. She never did question things anymore.

We thought maybe she finally understood, but no. She just became quiet, but she was still the same, different from the rest of us. A puzzle we could not solve.

“How long has it been? I’ve never seen her since then?” One of us asked while rubbing his chin. “You don’t think she actually did it?! You think she might have left?!” The other questioned, horror filled her eyes.

A piercing scream was heard from the center of the village. We all took our feet to the venue of the commotion. The girl who screamed was on her knees looking up at something. We followed the direction of her eyes and there she was.

The strange girl was standing by the edge of the school’s rooftop. Her bizarre hair was disheveled, her eyes and cheeks were sunken. She explored her eyes and looked at us who were watching her, then she stopped at the girl who screamed.

We looked once more at the person who caused us to watch whatever the strange girl was planning. We could not figure out what it was, but something was familiar with her.

Oh! We thought. It was none other than one of her underlings back then. Our staring was disrupted by a loud thud, we turned our heads and there she was, at the ground already.

We stared and stared as the pool of blood kept spreading. We did not know what to feel, or rather, we were guilty for we did not feel anything. She had always been different and strange, we never got what she rumbled about.

A few days later, her mother found the last letter she wrote. There she stated all her reasons and thoughts of why she did what she had done. It was evident that the freak poured her soul into the letter, it was her through and through, however, the penmanship was ours.

#writing #writing community #try #shorts #short story #random #notice #someone notice my writings pls #reading #read

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jadekitty777 · 4 years

Text

Doomsday Dinner Party: Chapter 2

Me? Updating a story from 2018? It’s more likely than you think. I’ve been wanting to write a continuation to this one for a long time.

Day 3: AU Day @taiqrowweek

Rating: T

Words: 9,000

Summary: The world might be over as they know it, but that didn’t mean their still wasn’t time for a road trip.

Ao3 Link: Doomsday Dinner Party (This link leaks to chapter 1, since reading it is kind of required and it’s been a long time)

June in the south was miserable and Qrow had not missed it one bit. Especially when that meant waking up with his clothes sticking to him like an uncomfortable, sweat-soaked blanket. It didn’t help that Tai was practically a furnace, and such an extreme cuddler it was as if he was trying to make it into the next Olympic sport.

He carefully wiggled his way out of the other’s grip, his efforts proving successful when he stirred but didn’t wake. As he sat up, he bit back the groan as his entire body ached in protest, every muscle sore from last night’s desperate escape. His shoulders were particularly knotted up, but he didn’t dare try to rub at them. Not with his fingertips still scraped raw from the failed attempts to grab the edge of the concrete wall he’d tried to vault himself over.

Qrow glanced over at Tai, still slumbering away.

He remembered that split second of dread that had shot through him, when he called for Tai’s help and the man, already safely straddled on the fence, looked the other way. He had thought, this was it. Tai was going to jump to the other side and leave him to die. He couldn’t describe the feeling that overwhelmed him when Tai only chucked their bags over before joining him back on the ground to help him over, putting himself in danger to save him.

After every other loss Qrow’d endured – friends, coworkers, his father, civilization itself – he was certain that nothing else could faze him. Oh, how the universe loved to prove him wrong. For the dread he felt when he was in trouble was nothing compared to the all-encompassing terror that engulfed him when it was Tai’s life on the line instead.

He’d almost lost him last night and the thought alone still shook his very soul.

It wasn’t even supposed to be like this. His plan had been simple: Team up with the trained soldier and travel from Montana to Texas. Try to locate his sister in Wichita Falls. Then, get a free pass into the military safe haven in Archer City. He was just supposed to use Tai’s connections to save his own skin, not fall for the guy.

And yet, here he was, a foolish man gently stroking his knuckles across Tai’s face, heart jumping at the little smile that elicited.

Damn it.

Qrow pulled away, before getting to his feet and picking up his scythe as he headed for the door. He opened it only a crack at first, listening carefully for any out of place noises – shambling feet, hissing breath. Anything that might indicate a Stalker nearby. When nothing caught his ear, he widened it, took a quick visual sweep of the area, before determining it was safe and walking outside.

Though he had no skill in reading it, the sun wasn’t too high yet, so he guessed it was only a bit past eight. Despite the early hour though, the summer heat was already settling in thick. He turned on his heels, getting another gander of the area. Even in the light, there wasn’t much to the facility. The wall surrounded the perimeter, only broken by an iron wrought gate that was probably only ever opened for vehicular traffic. He spotted nothing beyond the metal bars, so the horde that had chased them had thankfully continued on, rather than lingering in wait for them. Within the walls, there was only the small office building they’d holed up into and the white tanks that potentially held some water.

Possibly a back-up supply in case of a tornado emergency? He wasn’t sure, but it would be worth investigating after Tai got up.

For now, he had a different task in mind as he settled on the ground in the shade of one of the tanks and rested his weapon in his lap. Having been so exhausted, he hadn’t cleaned the blade last night like he should have. It was going to be a chore to do so this morning, now that the blood had had time to dry and crust over. It would have to be done before they moved out though, so he set himself to work on the arduous task.

It wasn’t until he was nearly done that Tai finally emerged, lumbering his way over to sit down beside him.

“Breakfast?” He greeted, shaking a bag of almonds at him.

“Sure.” Qrow accepted a handful, throwing them all into his mouth before picking back up his grit stone and moved it along the sharp end of the scythe. With the sound too grating to talk over, they shared the meager meal in silence. Not that there was much left to sharpen. Only a few more strokes and the task was done.

It was worrisome that the bag was empty in just as little time.

To avoid thinking about it, he rapped his knuckles on the tank behind them. “Was thinking there might be some water in here.”

“Doubt it.” Tai said, appraising the unit with a skeptical eye.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged. “What makes you so sure?”

Without breaking eye contact, Tai pointed to something above Qrow’s head. “Well that, for starters.”

He looked up at what he was indicating, spotting the bright yellow sticker with big, bold letters that said: Caution – Fire Hazard.

Not missing a beat, he said, “Could still be water. It’s a hazard to fire.”

Tai chuckled. “Oh, I see. It’s one of those badly translated stickers from Peru then.”

“Peru? Why not China?”

“Because my people have standards.”

“Your people?” Qrow arched a brow. “Tai, you’re like the whitest Chinese person to ever exist.”

He gave him a once over. “Kettle, black. Or in this case, white.”

“Hah. Clever.” He mocked. “Least I got the Asian eyes.”

“And they’re very pretty.” Tai reached out, roughing up his hair until most of the shaggy locks were covering his vision. He laughed Qrow off when he tried to swipe at him in retribution, scuttling back and getting to his feet. “Come on, we should get moving before the sun gets too high.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He stood as well, pushing his hair back into place, grimacing at the grime and grease that kept it into place like a self-made hair gel.

God, what he wouldn’t do for a shower.

As they headed back to the little metal building, he said, “So my thought is we head back to the car. Salvage it if we can. Ransack it if we can’t.” They’d left a lot behind in yesterday’s escape, including a canister of gas and some spare water.

Tai nodded stepping inside just long enough to grab their packs. “Shouldn’t be a problem. The freeway should be mostly clear now, so we can probably hotwire something new if need be.” He headed towards the gate, handing Qrow’s bag over as he passed. “We can probably go scavenging in a few of the small towns on the way, but if all goes well, we can definitely make it to Wichita before nightfall.”

Qrow froze.

It took the other man almost a dozen steps before he noticed. He paused, glancing back, “Qrow?”

He shifted his weight uncertainly, dropping his gaze. “Yeah, ‘bout that. I was thinking maybe we should just… skip Wichita and head straight for Archer City?”

The silence that followed allowed Qrow to feel lower than the dirt he was staring at. And though Tai wasn’t a violent man by nature, at least where the living folks were concerned, he still flinched all the same when the man approached him.

But the most Tai did was lay a hand on his shoulder, voicing softly, “Are you sure?”

“Last night was the first time we’ve encountered a crowd of that size. We barely made it.” He replied. “If we couldn’t handle that, how are we going to handle Wichita being like that from end to end?”

“You don’t know that.”

He finally rose his gaze. “No, but I do know better than to gamble on a losing hand.”

“But,” It was hard to catalogue the pinched expression that formed on Tai’s face. “But she’s your sister.”

He swallowed down the sudden grief that was trying to crawl its way out of his throat. “Yeah. Truth is though, I know she’s not there. She either got out, or she didn’t. I only wanted to go for me. To find peace with it, I guess.” He laid his hand over Tai’s, feeling the scars on the knuckles and the warmth of his skin. Alive. Here. “But I don’t want to lose you by chasing ghosts.”

Those soulful, blue eyes searched his face carefully. Then, for no reason at all, Tai pulled him into a hug, whispering into his hair. “Okay.”

It was almost like he was trying to comfort him. He didn’t know why though. He was fine.

Qrow buried his head into Tai’s shoulder.

…He was fine.

Qrow was nothing if not masterful at ignoring his own emotions.

“What do you think?” Qrow asked as he splayed himself over the hood of a Ferrari. “Perfect for the next calendar?”

“Qrow no.” The smile gave his partner away.

“Oh you’re right, the ladies like the open shirt look.” He teased, reaching up to undo a few of the top buttons.

Tai shoved a hand in his face, pushing him. “Cut it out porn star. We gotta actually work.”

He gave a mournful sigh. “My career, ended before it could take off.”

Qrow hopped down from the car, trailing after the other man. As they’d feared, their little hit and run last night really did a number on the Camry. The back wheels were now pitched up on a hill of squirming, hissing Stalkers. There was really no hope of getting it loose without a tow and even if they could, the potential damage the vehicle sustained probably negated the effort.

So they made their way to the freeway as planned, now eerily empty except for the few dead still stuck in their seatbelts. They made sure to avoid those ones.

“Oh, what about this one?” Tai pointed out a Jeep Wrangler, eyes practically sparkling. “Be good for some off roading, yeah?”

“Yeah, ‘cept that gas guzzler ain’t going to get us very far.” He nudged him onwards, peering into the windows of the cars they were walking by, trying to see if there were any abandoned snacks or water bottles to snag. Unfortunately, the best he could seem to find was a pack of Winterfresh gum, the sticks so old they crumbled.

They ate them anyways.

After about an hour of scouring their options and many failed attempts to get something working that hadn’t had something wear out from disuse and time under the hot sun, they finally managed to get a little Hyundai purring to life. Qrow eased it down the grassy slope, the whole frame shaking roughly as they made their way to the side road they’d been traveling on. Once they hit it, it was smooth sailing from there, Qrow pulling down the window to stick his hand out while Tai hummed showtunes beside him and mapped out the safest route to their final destination.

They reached Sterling within the first ten minutes. The small town, boasting only an original population of 800, was like a ghost town to drive through. A shambling straggler could be seen here or there, but mostly they went through uninterrupted – stopping only to check an already well-ransacked Dollar General. Temple, the next village down the 65, was not much more impressive and with tiny stores just as empty. They pulled over halfway down on the 70 to wash up in the Red River (not quite the shower he’d been hoping for, but it would do). They collected some spare water to boil later, before moving on.

Soon enough, they were turning onto the 79 and crossing the state border, driving through Byers, a town so miniscule, it wasn’t worth touring.

“Maybe we should just keep going.” Qrow said as they entered Petrolia, finding the show to be the same as the rest: lifeless streets decorated with only the occasional Stalker and nothing else. “We really aren’t getting anywhere with all these stops.”

Tai ran a hand through his hair, already dry as the early afternoon sun bore down from above like a heat lamp. “Suppose so. We’re only an hour or so away. Turn right here.”

He did as told, eyeing the signs as he did so.

Tried to ignore the heaviness in his heart as he realized they were turning away from Wichita Falls.

He focused twice as hard on the asphalt stretching for miles before them, avoiding the occasional abandoned car or, in one case, tractor. There wasn’t much to see on the countryside of Texas, even less so now. It was nothing but wide, open fields, overgrown with weeds that had gone untilled, interspaced by the occasional barn or house. Any livestock there had been seemed to have escaped from their pens or frozen during the winter season.

They both looked away from the dead horse still tied to its post in the corral.

It took only twenty minutes to hit the next city. Despite it being three times larger than the other towns, they made it through Henrietta without incident.

They were just going under the overpass of the freeway when Tai suddenly exclaimed, “Wait! Turn around!”

“What? What is it?” Qrow asked, U-turning in the middle of the road.

“We need to go there!”

He followed the direction he was pointing, eyebrows going up to his hairline. “Pecan Shed? The fuck you want to go there for?”

“It’s a gift shop.”

He waited a beat. “And?”

“It has things… and stuff?”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “What a concept. Next you’ll be telling me hardware stores have nails.” He turned onto the side street all the same, pulling into the parking lot within seconds. He gave the building a once over as they got out of the car.

It was a fairly large. Two stories tall and long as a barn, with a fancy awning in front that mimicked a shed roof and a patio with seating that stretched all across the front and down both sides of the property. The name of the place was in big red letters at the top story, something that would be easily visible from the freeway when passing by. The front doors were made of glass, surprisingly still intact and, more importantly, unlocked.

They stepped inside with caution at first, but a quick sweep of the open floor and a few calls to garner attention with no response told them they weren’t in any immediate danger.

Which meant…

They shared a glance, before immediately tackling the still semi-stocked junk food station in the middle of the room. He ripped open a package of Ruffles, stuffing half the bag in his mouth at once. It tasted like heaven. Stale, over-salted heaven.

Beside him, Tai was inspecting a bag of what appeared to be shelled peanuts while tipping back a bag of Fritos.

He swallowed down another handful, saying, “Save those.” They would keep better longer and they were good fillers when they had nothing else.

“Ye’I’no.” Tai garbled out, his normal southern politeness completely abolished in the sightline of food.

Qrow, who had no politeness at all, just tossed the empty bag over his shoulder and reached for the Funyuns next.

By the time they had their fill, there was a small collection of litter at their feet. He sighed, plopping down onto the nearby checkout counter, smoothing a hand over his belly. They’d had to ration for so long, he couldn’t even remember the last time he felt safe to overindulge. Too worried about what he’d need tomorrow to worry about the ache in his stomach today.

“Sir, how much will this cost?”

Qrow looked up, smirking as Tai stood before him with two hand baskets full of goods. “For what? The food or my sexy ass?”

He winked. “The food. Your ass is priceless.”

“Least you know quality when you see it.” He hopped down, taking one of the baskets and following the other out to the car.

They fell into an easy rhythm, scouring the shop top to bottom for anything worth nabbing. Drinks, trail mixes, jerky, matches, candles, blankets, batteries, knives. Even things like books and magazines were useful for campfire tinder – and maybe a bit of reading for those really boring nights.

Then again, Qrow thought as he placed a few shirt-wrapped bottles of wine in the back, there were always other methods of entertainment.

He slammed the trunk closed, before heading back in for one last sweep through of the back aisles. He zigzagged around the store, triple-checking the sections they’d already emptied. A selection of colorful novelty mugs caught his attention and he chortled over the one with the cartoon Corgi surrounded by a heart and flowing text framing it that said, ‘This is the Corgkey to my heart’.

Tai had always said he wanted a dog, hadn’t he?

He plucked it off the shelf and made his way towards where he could spot the familiar head of blond hair peeking above the displays. He wheeled the corner, about to call out – only for it to choke in his throat when he realized what the other man was doing.

Tai stood in front of a rack of wooden baskets, each one filled to the brim with stuffed animals. He seemed to be in a silent debate over whether to take the fuzzy teddy bear or the brightly colored unicorn, as if it were the most important decision of his life.

He looked so… lost.

Qrow inched forward hesitantly, moving loud enough that he knew he was there, but quiet enough to not disturb him.

It seemed Tai wasn’t completely stuck in his own head though, for when he finally stood at his side, he spoke, “I used to bring Yang here a lot.”

He tilted his head, surprised. “Your daughter?” Tai hadn’t talked about his girls much; whether it be out of a simple habit of privacy or a necessity to keep himself focused on survival instead of agonizing over his children’s fate was unknown to Qrow, but either way he’d never pried.

“Yeah. When I’d take her to go visit her mom, if the trip didn’t go well – and it rarely did – I’d bring her here. She loved the dinosaur exhibit that’s in front of the truck stop. I’d let her play there as long as she wanted and then we’d eat at the Steak N’ Shake.” He waved a hand at the store around them. “Then we’d come here, get some of the specialty fudge to bring home and Yang would pick out a stuffed animal for Ruby. Somehow, she always knew which one she’d love the most.” He laughed. It was a strained, wounded sound. “I’m afraid I don’t have her intuition though. I can’t even remember if Ruby was still in her unicorn phase before I left.”

Qrow swallowed down that same, awful grief from before that was trying to escape. Instead, he forced some cheer into his tone as he said, “Well you know what I do when I can’t make a decision?” He turned to the baskets in front of them and pulled one right off the rack, dropping it down between them, “I get them all.”

Tai blinked down at it, before a genuine smile broke free. It was like watching the sun come out after a rainstorm. “Qrow, we can’t bring them all.”

“Watch me.” He pulled another one free and balanced it against his hip as he hefted it towards the car.

Ten minutes later, they were peeling out of the parking lot, about a hundred pairs of eyes watching the road go by from the backseat.

And Tai didn’t stop smiling.

A semi-truck was parked sideways along the two-laned road that cut across the lake on the 172, it’s front fender partially submerged in the murky water, effectively blocking the way. Qrow didn’t think much of it as he turned them around to take another route.

He grew more suspicious when they encountered multiple semis parked in a line across the 174.

Tai lent forward, eyeing the trucks with narrowed eyes. “These are barricades.”

“And people don’t set up barricades if they aren’t trying to protect something.” Qrow determined, switching into low gear. “Come on, we can drive around it.”

“Wait!” He grabbed his wrist, keeping it from touching the wheel. “If the military set these up, then the fields are probably mined.”

He considered that for a moment, before shifting into reverse. “Alright then we’ll try up the highway.”

Around they went, the detour taking them nearly a half hour – and sure enough, right at the juncture that converged the highway with the freeway, another blockade halted their forward motion. But this time, there was a message left for them in bright red paint along the bodies of every truck:

TURN AROUND OR DIE

“The fuck,” He breathed, a shiver running down his spine. He looked to the man beside him, whose face had gone white. “Tai?”

Tai set his jaw, before pulling out the map. “Come on, let’s get closer than we’re walking it.”

“And what are we doing about that?” Qrow snapped, pretending his voice didn’t hit the octave of a screeching bat.

“You don’t have to come with me.”

The words were like a blow to the face. “What?”

He pointed out the frontage entrance a few miles south. “I’ll go, and then I’ll come back and get you if it’s safe.”

His heart slowed down from its 100-mile a minute pulse line to only about 80. He pulled the car around, grumbling all the while, “Like hell you will.”

Despite his words though, as they neared the off ramp, the desire to just hit the gas and keep going overcame him so strongly, it was like his foot was fighting against a two-ton weight. He looked again to the man beside him, tried to draw strength from his unwavering nerve. Tai had the look of a man who was about to go to war with the whole world if it dared stand in his way of him and his kids – and if Qrow just became another obstacle, he had no doubt on where he’d end up on that side of the battle.

He wished he’d had even an ounce of that same backbone for his sister.

He beat down his shame and jerked the wheel to the right, heading down the ramp and following the way back up to where the street met another. He turned onto it. The road was immediately rough, more dirt than asphalt, rattling the frame of the car harshly as they slowly trudged between the empty farming fields.

Halfway down the road, they came to a pair of dead ash trees, one on either side. Hanging from their blackened and brittle branches were about half a dozen empty nooses. But one was not.

Instead, in its snare, was the body of a decaying crow.

A promise and an omen.

An eerie silence fell between them as they passed underneath it, the air stifling, suffocating.

Qrow coughed and said, “I think that was my cousin.”

Tai snorted, smacking his arm. “Shut up.”

His own snickers were practically hysteric. The buzzing that had started in his nerves from the first warning sign had turned into a crawling feeling, like a line of ants were marching along his skin. To combat it, his grip on the wheel tightened.

This was insane. People had done all this. Blocked the roads, painted the warnings, hung the signs. All in an effort to keep other survivors from coming close. Was it all just the military’s doing? Scare tactics because they were overcrowded? Or was it something worse?

Just what were they walking into?

“Hey.”

Qrow sucked in a sharp breath, looking down at the hand now covering his own.

Tai ran a thumb over his knuckles, the movement as gentle as his voice, “It’s okay if you want to stay back, really.”

“Fuck that.” He snapped. “You would of come with me to Wichita, no matter what, right?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Was the immediate assurance, followed shortly by, “But that doesn’t mean you owe me your life.”

He thought, again, of last night. Their shared panic as they ran across the fields. The wall that loomed ahead, cutting off their escape. Tai’s frantic orders as he helped him over.

Had he been alone, that would have been it.

He couldn’t stomach the thought of Tai being in a similar situation – needing him to look out for him. And him just not being there.

“No.” He avowed, meeting his eye. “We’re in this together. So unless you’re gonna throw me out of this damn car, you can cut it out with the martyr shit. Okay?”

The hand over his pulled his off the wheel, Tai clutching onto it almost fiercely. “Okay.”

Qrow let him keep it, slipping his fingers between Tai’s own as he turned back to the road.

As they neared its end, he noticed an assortment of industrial standard wind turbines. Perhaps once in use to provide power to the few speckled barns and homes on the horizon. He turned north, driving between them, peering up at them. The blades were whirling lazily in the breeze as the metallic forest caught the bright, summer sun, gleaming harshly bright.

He had to wonder if the buildings out here still had power. Or, if not, if a bit of tweaking to the structures might be able to bring them back to life. He was long removed from his university days when he would dabble about in engineering, and he’d never actually studied the ins and outs of wind energy converters, but the temptation to try was irresistible. To be able to cook their meals on a stove again or, god, have a hot shower. He had to bet there were some independent water wells out here and the land was still prime for growing too; it wouldn’t be hard to get their own crops growing. With time, they might even be able to find some livestock again. And a dog, too.

Qrow got lost in the fantasy of it.

So much so, Tai almost made him jump when he suddenly spoke up, “Here too?”

He blinked away the afterimages of him and Tai playing house during the apocalypse, focusing on the reality before him.

Scoffed at the sight of the pickup truck parked sideways across the road. He rolled to a stop, eyeing a side street in the rearview mirror a short-ways back. It was even less maintained than the ones they’d been traveling down so far, promising a ride that would rival a go around on some bumper cars.

“What do you wanna do? Walk it or keep going?” He asked gruffly.

Tai hummed thoughtfully, eyeing the map once more. “We’re not too far off at this point. Ten miles at most.”

“Not far off, he says.” Qrow mocked under his breath, even as he parked the car.

His partner laughed, undoing his seatbelt. “It’ll be good for you. Your scrawny legs could use some definition.”

He opened his mouth to retort, reaching for the keys to turn off the car –

When the one in front of them roared to life.

They froze, staring at the truck.

“What?” Tai whispered.

To assure they hadn’t misheard, the engine revved loudly.

Then, the wheels rotated towards them, the axles squealing as the truck came barreling towards them.

“Oh shit.” Qrow barked, throwing them into reverse and slamming down on the gas pedal.

Tai yelped as he was thrown into the dash as they rocketed backwards several meters. Another quick gear shift, and Qrow twisted the wheel around, flying down the road he’d spotted before. They hit a pot hole hard enough to throw them up from their seats, but he didn’t dare slow down.

His arms trembled and sweat started to bead from his brow. “What the fuck.”

He looked at the rearview, seeing the truck taking the same corner, gunning after them.

“What the fuck!” He shouted again.

“I don’t know!” Tai shouted back, scrambling to get his seatbelt back on.

“There’s someone in there.”

“You think?!”

He smacked the wheel. “Well what the fuck do we do!?”

“Calm down.” Was the sharp reply, Tai twisting around in his seat to keep an eye on their pursuer. “We just need to lose him.”

“Oh, that’s all? Brilliant!”

“Qrow.” The commanding tone shut him down immediately, his partner leveling him with a look. “Listen to me. We’re going to be fine. Just focus on driving. We’ll find a place around here, a home, a barn whatever. Just something with some cover.”

He took a few deep breathes, trying to steel his nerves. “Alright, alright.”

Except, it became abundantly clear that plan was sunk, as they sped past the first side street, completely blocked off by rubbish and vehicles. It was the same story with the next one.

Tai cursed under his breath. “He’s corralling us.”

“Maybe we should ditch the car? Head out into the field and make a run for it?” Qrow suggested.

He shook his head. “We’ll be too exposed. I think our better bet is to figure out where he’s leading us.”

“And then?”

“Then we’ll talk this out with whoever this guy is.”

“And if he doesn’t want to talk?”

Tai’s expression smoothed out into something cold. “Then you’re lucky I’m a good shot.”

Qrow swallowed, not arguing further.

He knew Tai could do it, if he had to. That’s how the military had trained him. But he hadn’t had to go through any of those tough regimens like his partner. Hell, up until eight months ago, he’d been living a rather lavish, uncomplicated life helping his old man upkeep the business fixing transmissions and rotating tires.

He was a mechanic! How the hell did he end up in a high-speed chase in the middle of fucking nowhere?

A blare of the truck’s horn made his heart jump into his throat. What was this guy gonna do, once he got them where he wanted them? Would he really start shooting?

God, he didn’t want to kill anyone. Not someone alive at least.

Another rough bump shook the thought down, so he tried to focus on keeping them steady instead. Another mile on, and the road ahead became blocked by another pickup truck, forcing them to take a hard right.

As he turned, he spotted movement in the front seat of the car.

A sense of foreboding swept through him and once they got far enough down the road, he braved a glance. Sure enough, the rearview told him they were now being pursued by two cars.

“Tai.” Qrow hissed in warning.

But Tai wasn’t looking at the situation behind them, instead pointing forward. “Look.”

He did, squinting a bit. Though still a good few miles off, he could just barely make out the shape of a large building of some sort – taller than any of the other buildings around these parts. Unnatural and out of place.

“What is that?” He asked.

“Dunno. But I have a feeling we’re about to find out.”

The suspicion turned to truth as they continued down the road, the structure looming ever closer. Until he could make out it wasn’t a building at all, but rather a massive fence, at least two stories tall. It was made of a mismatch of materials, including timber beams, chain link mesh, and aluminum sheet metal.

It had to be sturdy though, because as they rolled up to the front gate, he could spot half a dozen people standing on platforms attached to it, three on either side of the gate.

Every single one of them held a rifle.

“What now?” Qrow barely got out around the knot in his throat.

“I…” Tai looked frantically from side to side, as if an escape route would just materialize from thin air. When nothing did, he looked to him, and for the first time since this all started, Qrow could see the fear in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

They both looked back as they heard the sound of car doors closing, the drivers of either car stepping out and heading towards them. One was a man with short brown hair, the front of it pulled up like a plumage of feathers. His shirt was sleeveless, boasting well-toned arms that promised an ill-fate for his opponents. Yet, even he seemed slightly dwarfed by his companion – a tree of a woman, solidly built, and tall. She was swinging around a giant mallet like it weighed nothing.

The two of them split, flanking their car from either side.

The man knocked on Qrow’s window, pointing down.

Getting the hint, he rolled it down.

The man rested a hand along the top of the door, leaning in. “Where y’all heading? The zoo?”

He blinked, confused – and then he remembered the army of stuffed animals in the back seat, and scowled. “Clever, asshole.”

That only seemed to amuse the other, as he chuckled. His voice was smooth and calm. He knew who was in charge here. “This one’s got some bite, don’t he Elm?”

“Sure does.” Elm replied. “And look, they’re just your type. A couple of pretty boys.”

The hair on the back of his neck stood up uncomfortably. The fuck did that mean?

Beside him, Tai took a deep breath, saying slowly. “Look, we’re not trying to start any trouble. We were just passing on through.”

“Were you now?” The man drummed his fingers on the roof above him, the noise unusually grating with Qrow’s nerves so shot. “And you just happened to come this way? Didn’t happen to see any of our warnings or blocked roads?”

“You guys did all that?” Qrow realized too late the question only made him sound falsely innocent.

“Cute. Real cute.” The easygoing smile disappeared, replaced with something rigid and dangerous. “Alright that’s enough small talk. So, let me explain how this is going to work. The two of you are going to get out of the car. You’re not going to struggle or try anything stupid, ‘cause if you do…” He lent in even further, as if he were trying to share a secret with them. “You see those people up there? They don’t have the best of aim, but they sure do got a lot of bullets. Quantity over quality and all that.”

Qrow’s hands tightened over the wheel he still hadn’t let go of. Tai’s breath hitched.

Neither of them moved.

The man gave a longsuffering sigh. “Come on now. Don’t make us drag you out.”

Another beat passed.

Then, with a reluctant click, Tai undid his seatbelt. Opened the door slowly.

“Attaboy.” The man praised, before turning his gaze to him. “Now you.”

Qrow shut his eyes, counted down from five, and finally managed to pry one hand loose. Shakily, he pulled the car into park, before doing the same as his partner and stepping out of the car.

“That’s it, nice and easy.” The other coached. “Now, arms out.”

Once, when he was young and stupid, he got pulled over for drunk driving. So, he wasn’t unfamiliar with a pat down. This was a lot more… thorough. The asshole even managed to find the swiss army knife in his back pocket.

From where he was being given much the same treatment by Elm, he heard Tai ask, “Can’t we talk about this?”

“You can sing like a bird, but it won’t do you any good until the chief gets here.” She replied.

The chief? What kind of society were they running? A tribe?

“Alright, this way.” The man tossed all his weapons onto the seat of the car, before clapping a hand down on his shoulder, pulling him forward. “Gonna need you front and center.”

Qrow reluctantly followed, fighting the urge to curl away from his touch. He grunted a bit when the other forced him down, his knees cracking painfully on the ground. Tai was manhandled into the same position beside him, grunting a bit as Elm forced him down even more roughly.

The man called over them both, “Where’s the chief?”

The tiniest of the firing squad, a dark-skinned woman with boyishly short hair, called back, “Almost here!”

“Clover.” Elm said urgently from behind them. There was a light jingling noise that Qrow couldn’t place but recognized as something passed between them.

There was a few short seconds of nothing, and then suddenly Clover was marching around them, kneeling down in front of his partner. In his hand were Tai’s dog tags. “Where did you get this?” He asked darkly.

Tai looked between them and Clover, murmuring, “They’re mine.”

“Really?” He flipped the face of it around, reading it aloud. “So, your telling me your name is Taiyang Xiao Long?”

His lips pressed into a firm, defiant frown. “Yes.”

“Bullshit.” Clover spit in his face. “Who’d you take this from?”

“I didn’t steal it from anyone.”

“Fuck off with that you-”

Qrow’s fingers clenched into fists, his own temper flaring. “Hey! Why don’t you fuck off! It’s called remarriage jackass – or is that too hard a concept for you?”

It probably wasn’t the best thing to do, if the flash of panic that passed over Tai’s face was any indication. But Clover just leveled him with a glare before getting back to his feet, letting the chain dangle from his fingers. “You know, I heard her people liked to take souvenirs from the dead. But a soldier’s tags? That’s just vile. How many of my friends’ bodies did you desecrate back at the base?”

‘Her people’? ‘Bodies’? What was this guy prattling on about?

“Wait. Just wait a second. The base?” Tai took a shaky breath. “Archer City base? You’re from there?”

Elm smacked the heel of her hammer into the ground right behind him. “We both were. It was all real nice, until your little buddies came by and slaughtered the lot of us.”

Qrow felt his stomach plummet at those words.

Tai had gone pale, his composure barely hanging on. Desperately, he croaked out, “How many survived?”

Whatever he thought of his reaction did nothing to temper the acidic hatred Clover stared down at him with. “You’re looking at ‘em.”

Had Tai been one of his actual enemies, Clover may have been proud to know how devastating a blow he’d just delivered. Regardless of it all, the damage was done. And Tai?

Tai broke. It wasn’t loud, like the way glass shatters. Rather it was subtle and unfixable, like the snapping of a flower stem.

Qrow’s own heart fractured at the way he whimpered, curling in on himself. The fleeting sunflower, already beginning to wilt and die, now that his roots were gone.

He reached out for him, hand coming to rest on his back, not caring if the lumberjack of a woman behind him smashed his entire arm flat for it.

“She’s here!” One of the squad from above called. The chain link rattled as someone ascended the platform from the other side.

Qrow paid it all only half an ear and eye, more concerned with the defeated man before him then anything this chief was going to do with them. Though, when he heard the telltale stomp of boots from above, he offered a cursory glance skyward.

She was a tall woman, with wild black hair and a curvy, powerful figure. A bandanna covered the lower half of her face, and she seemed equally disinterested in them, instead speaking with the petite woman who’d spoken before.

“Not much to say about them boss.” Clover reported. “One of them’s got some stolen tags from a Taiyang though.”

That grabbed her attention immediately, her body jerking around as she looked down at them with intense interest.

Even from here, Qrow could tell her eyes were blood red.

And then he couldn’t see them at all as, without warning, she practically raced back to the ladder as she shrilled orders at her people, “LOWER YOUR WEAPONS AND LET THEM UP! OPEN THE GATES, NOW!”

There was a sudden, confused cacophony of voices. Another sharp command and then, an equally snappish retort that bellowed above them all, “You heard her, open it!!”

Qrow caught Clover and Elm sharing a worried look between them. He felt his guard rise higher, confusion and fear melding into one. What was going on? Was she coming down there to kill Tai herself? He shifted over, trying to block Tai’s body with his own as he heard the latch of the gate come undone, slowly starting to roll open.

The chief could hardly wait for it, practically squeezing her way through.

Except at some point on the way down, she’d ripped away the mask. This close, there was no mistaking her.

“Oh my god.” Qrow whispered. “Oh my god.”

Then he was on his feet, shoes scrambling for purchase and hands clambering over the dirt to get himself up as fast as possible, taking off at a run. The rest of the world fell away, the only thing left the woman running just as fast for him – and despite it being mere seconds, it was entirely too long when they finally collided.

Her name burst from his lips like a prayer he never thought would be answered. “Raven! Oh god, Raven.”

It was impossible. She was here. She was here!

His heart beat as wild as his sister’s hair, the mane of it seeming the surround him as she buried her face into his neck and sobbed. “Qrow. You’re alive. I never thought – How’d you even get here?”

His response came out in a stammer. “Me? B-But you-! And I, I,” Oh, he was crying too.

So he stopped trying, just held on tight and let the tidal wave of emotion hit him. The grief he’d been ignoring. The guilt of having given up. The hope he never let live. The relief of her being safe. The unbelievable happiness knowing she was actually and truly alive.

“I love you.” The words burst out of him, sudden and uncontainable. As if he needed to make up for lost time. All the years he should have said it more, after the divorce had split them across the country and the forced separation left them bitter even with each other. Until the phone calls went from every day to almost never. Until they only caught up on the occasional holiday. Until he thought there was nothing worse than becoming invested into something he was destined just to lose.

But he’d been wrong. Feeling like he was completely alone was much, much worse.

“That wasn’t an answer.” She spoke around tears. “But I love you too, you stupid idiot.”

“’Stupid idiot’? Really bringing out the big guns with that one aren’t ya?” He laughed and she shoved him a bit. It was just like the old days.

“It’s just such a strong character trait, it has to be said twice.” Raven assured, wiping her face.

He was about to retort when Clover cut in between them. “Hey uh, I don’t mean to interrupt your reunion, but I think there’s something wrong with your friend.”

Qrow’s head snapped around. Like that moment in the gift shop, Tai seemed to be lost in his own head – but even further this time. He didn’t even respond to the way Elm shook him or tried to encourage him to his feet.

“Shit.” He breathed, before racing back to his side. He waved the other woman aside, kneeling down next to him. “Tai, babe? You in there?”

Nothing.

“Come on, don’t do this to me.” He murmured frantically, reaching out to hold his hand.

His sister approached, and though she appeared to be oddly taken aback, her voice was sharp and commanding, “What happened?”

Qrow waved vaguely to his left. “Your little boy scout there is what. Told him his family died.”

“What?!” The soldier barked, holding up his hands, “I did no such thing.”

He leveled him with his best glare. “’You’re looking at ‘em’? That’s what you said about the survivors. His daughters were there, asshole.”

At least, that was what Taiyang was hoping. He had banked everything he had that his little girls had made it to the safe zone and were just waiting for him to return. The unshakable belief had been the only thing keeping him sane.

Now that it was gone, he had nothing left to hold onto. Qrow didn’t know what to do, or even had the faintest clue how to pull the other back from the sea of despair he was drowning in.

Clover looked horrified. “I, but I-I didn’t-!”

“It’s fine.” Raven asserted.

“What?!” Qrow shouted. “How can you just fucking say that?!”

She leveled him with look he couldn’t even begin to decipher. “Just. Let me.”

Without any further context then that, she settled on the dirt next to them. She reached out, gripping Tai’s jaw and turning his head to face her and in a gentle octave Qrow’d never heard her use, said, “Tai, can you hear me? I need you to come back. Yang and Ruby are here.”

At the sound of his daughters’ names, Tai finally blinked, some light returning to his gaze. Encouraged, Raven lent in closer.

“They’re alive. They’re safe. But you need to wake back up if you want to see them. Can you do that for us?”

He felt the hand in his slowly starting to grip back. Whatever his sister was doing was working – and while Tai’s brain was starting back up, Qrow felt like his was doing all sorts of mental gymnastics just to catch up. How did she know Tai’s kids? Were they really beyond those gates? Did they talk about their dad enough that she just knew who he had to be?

The real answer turned out to be exceedingly more simple and absolutely mind-bending, because Tai finally croaked out, “Rae?”

His sister smiled and responded as if it were the most natural thing on earth, “Yeah, it’s me.”

The words echoed on repeat in his ears. Rae. As in, Tai’s first girlfriend Rae. Yang’s mother? Was also Raven, his sister?!

Qrow felt like he was going to need one of these quiet-talk therapy sessions because now he wasn’t sure he was entirely all here anymore.

The world was still intent on moving on whether he was there or not though. Tai inhaled shakily, practically pleading, “And, the girls? They’re really-?”

“Come see for yourself.” Raven stood.

Taking a moment to gather himself, Qrow followed suit, pulling Tai up with him. He led him towards the entrance, shooting a look at his sister that promised they were going to talk about this.

She avoided his eye and fell in step with them, calling first to the firing squad still above them, “Hey, show’s over! Back to your jobs!” Then to the soldiers, “Clover, Elm. Bring in that car and then get back to your posts.”

“Yes ma’am.” Clover saluted. “And uh, Qrow, Tai?” Only Qrow looked back – holding up his hand to catch Tai’s tags when he tossed them his way. “Sorry.”

He nodded, pocketing them. He made a mental note to make sure the other man gave twice as good an apology to Tai when his lover was more present.

They stepped through the gate and it was like entering a long-forgotten world. The road continued on straight – but the acres of fields on either side were busy with tents, motor homes, and even a few trailers, everyone making do with whatever shelter they could find. People were milling about, doing all sorts of things. He could see some older men in lawn chairs, enraptured by a game of Chinese Checkers. A team was working with various gardening tools to clear up some free land. Another team was working on the skeleton of a structure against one of the walls that was looking like the beginning of a home. Pens were built towards the back, a few cows and a chicken coop in view and there were a few fire pits speckled around the facility, once in use as several people boiled and stored water.

A sense of surrealism enveloped him. They’d been on their own so long, he almost forgot what normal life could look like.

“This almost doesn’t feel real.” Qrow admitted, eyeing a young pair sparring in the shade of the wall.

“You get used to it.” Raven replied, leading them towards the west side of the colony. “We all keep pretty busy. Everyone’s got a job here; a way to contribute. We take care of each other, keep each other safe.”

He scoffed. “That why we got chased halfway to hell getting here?”

“It’s… preventative.” She explained. “We just want to make sure everyone comes to the front door.”

“So you can shoot them.”

“If they give us reason to.”

He gaped at her, aghast.

Raven sighed, walking in-between the space of two parked RVs. “This world doesn’t have rules anymore and there are a lot of bad people willing to take advantage of that.”

“Like at the base.” It was a surprise to both of them to hear Tai speak. “What happened there?”

Something dark flittered along his sister’s face, before she looked away. “Another group wanted what we had. So, one night, they rammed down the gates with a few semitrucks filled to the brim with biters to get it. There was over a thousand of us there. Now there’s only a little over a hundred of us.”

“Christ.” Qrow cursed. He couldn’t even fathom it. What kind of mindset did someone have to have to do something so willingly vicious?

“These people already lost everything twice over now. They’re looking to me to make sure they don’t lose more.” She stood a little taller, her voice strong and confidant. A voice people would find faith in following. “So yeah, I’ll scare even God himself away from our gates if that’s what it takes.”

If there was a concern to take away from all that, the day had been much too harrowing and long to put any honest consideration to it. So, he just let it lie, a gnat in the back of his thoughts for now.

He figured any other conversation was probably moot anyways, as when they rounded another trailer home the field opened up to what appeared to be a small picnic and playground area. In the center between the various tables and play equipment was a canopy tent, providing shade to the small gathering of children underneath it. They were all sitting in the grass, listening to the woman before them as she read aloud.

Tai’s grip had become iron tight, breath shallowing out.

As they drew near, Raven spoke up, “Summer, mind if we interrupt?”

The disruption drew everyone’s gaze on them, eyes wide and curious at the strange newcomers in their midst. Their teacher, Summer, seemed as equally spellbound, the book she’d been reading falling right out of her hands.

From the front, Qrow caught movement as one of the students stood, and he saw his niece for the first time. For even if the color was Tai’s, there was really no mistaking that wild mane for anyone other than a carbon copy of Raven’s – no matter how much those flimsy pigtails tried to tame it. She had to of been around eight or nine and she had a gangly appearance about her, the same way he had been during most of his childhood while he was still growing. He hoped she wouldn’t get his outrageously long legs.

Beside her, another girl stood. Had he not already known she was only two years apart from Yang, he would have mistaken little Ruby for being even younger. She was tiny, something that would probably follow her all the way through to adulthood. Unlike her sister, who seemed to be a mismatch of both her parents, she was practically a miniature version of the woman just behind her, right down to the silver eyes.

“Dad!” Yang shouted, shoving her way through the crowd recklessly. With her clearing the path, Ruby had no trouble following, letting loose a shrill cry of her own.

Whatever trance Tai had been transfixed in broke immediately, and he tore away to clear the distance between him and them, falling to his knees as they reached each other. Finally, finally after what had probably felt like an eternity to the father, he was able to scoop both of them up into his arms and hold them close, sobbing with unashamed abandon as he bestowed them with kisses and I love you’s.

Qrow heart melted at the sight, blinking away tears of his own as a delirium of happiness overtook him.

Raven wound an arm over his shoulders, pulling him against her once more. It grounded him, reminding him this was all actually happening. The little farm home he’d envisioned earlier crumbled away. In its place something new and bigger formed. His sister, Tai’s girls, and this little piece of land and community – their Beacon of hope in the middle of nowhere – was all part of his reality. Their reality.

They were home.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 5 years

Text

Bishop’s Angel

Part One

Reader and the turtles

Pain, that was the first thing that invaded your senses, brisling bright and sharp. Before your vision returned or even movement in your limbs, a blinding pain that felt like a million knives imbedded deep in the back of your skull screamed for the relief in the form of a swift death. Your mouth was dry as the Sahara and you felt like you needed to vomit and the throbbing behind your eyes was not helping in the slightest. This wasn’t going to be a good day, you could tell already. Next you willed your eyes to open and they thankfully obliged, but you promptly regretted the decision when a white searing light assaulted your vision. How long had you been out for light to be this excruciating? You needed to rub away the ache but found your limbs unwilling to comply or more accurate, couldn’t.

“Fuck.” You mumbled taking another pull hoping your arms and legs were just entangled in your sheets after a restless night of sleep. Nope, no such luck, no movement yet again. Slowly this time, you opened your eyes allowing the light to slowly penetrate easing the light to dilate your pupils gradually. Your vision still slightly blurry your surroundings came into view. White, lots and lots of white and machines and metal instruments. Like a heavy weight, dread filling your stomach, you were not fully aware of your surroundings yet, but you knew a lab when you saw one.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you tried to remember how you got in this position, the last thing you remembered was getting onto your ship and getting into hyper sleep for the long arduous journey to the outer rim of the Milky way for your next assignment. Then another hot stabbing pain rolled through your skull making you groan at the unpleasant sensation. And something inside snapped and a flood of images came rushing back making the urge to purge the contents of your stomach intensify.

Memories came surging back, and you suddenly remembered what had happened. Midflight a stray meteor hit your ship damaging the navigation system and thrusters. That set off a domino effect of errors which woke you from your slumber. By the time you got back to the bridge you were already too close to the planet and had been caught in its gravitational pull. There was nothing you could do but try to ease the landing and prepare for impact. Thankfully your heat shields protected you from the rough entry into the primitive planet’s atmosphere, but the landing had been jostling. Somehow you managed not to break any bones or your other precious appendages, but you were cut pretty bad from flying debris.

Earth is where you had landed unfortunately. The planet itself was pleasant, with fresh water, lush green foliage and a wide variety of amazing animals. But its higher life forms were less then pleasant. Humans were cruel and stupid, taking all that they had for granted. They were ruining their magnificent planet at an alarming rate and if they kept destroying it at their current pace they would kill it in less than 100 years. They were foolish and selfish, killing each other over stupid reasons like religion and who they were allowed loved. Wars and bloodshed was this planets calling card which is why they were kept out of the Intergalactic Peace Corp and why no intelligent life visited.

After you had freed yourself from your harness and put out the fires on deck one and two you needed to open the bay doors to remove the smoke that clogged the ventilation systems but when the ramp lowered you found yourself no longer alone. Your ship was surrounded by a swarm of humans dressed in black with their guns drawn pointed at you.

When they first caught glimpse of you their eyes widened in shock and each took a step back. Easily startled little pricks scared of anything different than them, fucking humans. Granted in most ways you looked like them, you had supple tan flesh, and being a female, you had the same reproductive organs as theirs with two breasts and a cunt. You had two legs, two arms with ten toes and fingers with nails and cuticles. You were just a little taller than their average height with a long light brown hair. Even your eyes were the same, but the violet of your eyes were not represented on this planet which only added to your exotic look. But the two appendages protruding from your back were the most shocking features about you and you pumped the two large white wings behind you just to give the humans a show.

It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do in hindsight because the next thing you knew you were pumped full of some sort of tranquilizer and now were strapped down to a metal table in an unknown location with your wings pinned painfully under you.

This was your third visit to the planet, granted this one wasn’t planned but a visit non the less and it reiterated why this was by far your least favorite planet in this system. Such a jumpy species, fucking humans.

Back in the present you concentrated at the task at hand, you quickly assessed your current situation, your arms and legs were restrained with simple leather straps which will be easily broken with just your strength alone. The sound of a door opening halted your escape attempt and you observed as a man dressed in a black suit and tie with a pair of sunglasses over his eyes strolled up next to you. His index finger drug lazily up your leg to your midsection pressing down ever so slightly testing your skins resilience.

Thankfully they had left you clothed, or someone was about to die. The smirk on his face indicated he thought he had you trapped at his mercy, but little did this smug asshole know leather straps wouldn’t keep you bound to this table for much longer. You just needed to bide your time waiting for the right moment.

After a few moments the man spoke lifting the dark glasses up to the top of his head to reveal his icy grey iris’, “And I thought today was going to be uneventful. I love getting new toys to play with.” His voice was scratchy and dull, lacking any kind of compassion and filled with contempt which gave you a bit of apprehension. Just one sentence from the man and you knew already he wasn’t one to be trifled with.

His hands lifted to your cheek stroking the warm skin almost lovingly, but you knew even the small touch had a purpose. He was studying you with just his fingers gauging your reactions, waiting to see what you would do. Next his fingers traced the edges of your soft wings gathering a feather between his fingers examining the texture.

“Interesting.” He cooed sharply yanking the white feather from its root with a brutal tug.

Not prepared for such an abrasive act and sharp sting you let out a shriek of pain when the quill left the sinew of your wing. “Fuck! You indignant asshole! That hurt!”

“You speak English, how fascinating. You look like us besides the gorgeous wings and you speak our tongue. You, my dear, are not only stunning for an alien but also just as vexing. What are you doing on earth?”

Refusing to answer the man’s questions you returned with your own, “Where is my ship?”

“Nah ahh ahh don’t be rude, I ask the questions here. You came into our atmosphere unidentified and uninvited making a colossal mess for me to clean up. The least you could do is answer a few questions.” If the tone if his voice was any sweeter, sugar would have been dripping from his lips. He leaned down bringing his nose close to your neck taking a long pull of your scent. “You smell unique as well, like nutmeg or some other sweet spice. I think you’ll be my new favorite. I wonder what your insides look like.”

“Is this how you treat guests on this planet? Capture and threaten them with dissection?”

Suddenly the door to your room burst open and a frantic man wearing a long white lab coat came rushing to your host’s side. Taking a few moments to catch his breath the subordinate finally calmed down enough to address the man no doubt in charge.

“Bishop, those mutants are coming too, the big one nearly broke free!”

The calm and collected facade slipped from the man they called Bishop and his fists clenched in tight angry fists. “Then drug them again! Do you have any idea how long I planned and waited to capture those god damn turtles?! Almost two years you fucking moron and 5 million of the government’s money, I cannot lose them. They are too important to my work for them to disappear again! Contain the beasts!”

The cowering man nodded quickly and slinked away to take care of his problem leaving you and Bishop alone yet again. He straightened his tie and coughed regaining his lost restraint. His cold eyes found yours again and he smiled ever so sweetly caressing your cheek once again.

“You my dear will have to wait, I have four prior engagements I need to attend too. We shall continue this play date a little later. I look forward to learning every inch of you inside and out…..Rachel!”

Again the door swung open and a woman with long red hair and a white lab coat appeared fully engrossed with the man addressing her. “Yes Agent Bishop?”

“Rachel please give this wonderful new specimen of mine a delicious cocktail to let her rest until I have time to attend to her. I have a shell to peel from one of those turtles backs. But first dinner!” And with that Bishop slipped from the room heading towards his meal.

The woman ignored you and turned to the table to her left and started to fiddle with something.

“Please.” You tried to plead with the woman. “Please help me.”

Slowly the woman turned around holding a syringe up pressing the stopper to expel the excess air from the needle. She looked down and shook her head allowing the red curls of her hair to shake around her shoulders. “I’m sorry dearie but Mr. Bishop always gets what he wants and you’re the first alien he’s gotten his hands on. You’re not going anywhere.”

You figured her answer would be ‘no’ so you were poised and ready, your muscles flexing under the taught band of leather. “On the contrary Rachel, I’m not an alien. Only this primitive planet uses that word.” A pop and a gasp from your nurse the leather gave way freeing your hands and feet from their constraints. Your hand shot out dislodging the syringe from her hands and you quickly grabbed it plunging the needle deep in her neck pressing the cocktail into her system.

Her eyes widened in pain still processing your lightening fast movements. She tried to scream reaching out to steady her failing legs but crumbled to the floor in a huddled mess at your feet.

“Rest well Rachel.” Getting to your feet you surveyed the room and fortunately found all your blades at the far back corner of the room. “Idiots.” Shoving them back into their sheaths you headed for the door pressing your ear to the cold surface listening for any sign of life on the other side. You waited patiently for two sets of footsteps to pass and fade into the distance before you pushed open the door peering out into the equally blinding white corridor. Did they hear of colors?

Slipping out silently you made your way cautiously as you could down the hallways being aware or your surroundings moving forward to find some sort of exit. Then voices came from behind and you entered into the next unlocked room praying it was empty and closed the door just as four guards entered into the hallway. You had to wait for them to pass by but back luck was apparently in abundance today so they stopped almost at the door you hide behind to stop and chat. You were stuck, at least for the moment.

The room you had entered was dark and machines hummed quietly in the back. Hopefully dark meant uninhabited but metal shifting behind you told you otherwise. Your hand gripped the hilt of your blade at your side and slowly turned around ready to defend yourself. Your eyes were already starting to adjust to the darkness and you could see four large tables containing four large masses. With no one standing before you to try and capture you again your fingers sought the light switch and drenched the room in white light.

There before you lay four large humanoid turtles strapped to the same metal tables you had just occupied. The difference was they were restrained with thick metal cuffs secured to the solid heavy tables that were bolted to the ground. They weren’t going anywhere, not without assistance. Where these the four mutants turtles Bishop was talking about deshelling? How were these four massive creatures on this planet? They were not human that was for sure.

You saw all four had masks on, each a different color. One was huge, bulky like a raging bull adorned with red. That had to be the ‘big one’ the sniveling man told Bishop had almost escaped. You could see why they were terrified, he was impressive. Next to him was the smallest of the four but still equally muscled with orange around his skull, then a tall lanky one, not as bulky as the rest of them but still well defined, he had purple. Then at the end was one just a bit smaller then the large red brute, his scalp wrapped in blue. They were blindfolded and gagged as well shifting weakly on the tables. Bishop had said they were hard to capture, maybe you could help each other. You just hoped they weren’t hostile.

Silent as the night, you made your way to the blue turtle, your fingers hovering over his blindfold still making up your mind if you wanted to help them. His head turned to you somehow knowing you were there. They were awake and he tried to talk through the offending rubber gag. You watched his nostrils flare struggling to take in air. Damn your bleeding heart.

Reaching down you ripped the blindfold free along with the gag. His eyes were a mystifying blue swirling with confusion and resolve but when they met yours they blew wide. His mouth worked his jaw loose and his tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips but stilled as his eyes followed up your wings span bobbing gently behind you.

“Holy Shell.”

@blossom-skies

#tmnt #tmnt fandom #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fic #TMNT TMNT fanfiction #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #Bishop's Angel #part one

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starswornoaths · 5 years

Text

What Yields the Need

On the cusp of war, reunions and revelation abound. Though Ala Mhigo has not yet been reclaimed, a victory of a different sort is claimed.

Or:

that follow up to Months and Malms Ago I didn’t think was going to happen already where these dummies finally say, “I love you” lmao

Word count: 2,865

There, at the end of it all, she stood.

After over a year and a thousand malms had separated them, after all the uncertainty and the fervent prayers for the Fury to shield her, nothing more than a handful of fulms stood between Aymeric and Serella.

And he knew not how to cross them.

He knew even less if he should, given how little they had been able to speak in their time apart. He could not blame her for that; with her behind enemy lines she sent word as much as was safe, he knew, and had oft sent it folded at the front of a book she had found in her travels that she thought he might like, its pages pressed with flowers she had found on the road.

He had cherished them, every letter she sent, every gift she had managed to arrange for him, and held fast to the spark of hope that each came with that he was still within her heart. Her words were often warm but cordial—doubtless out of a fear of someone intercepting them—and his hardly spoke of his affection for much the same reason.

That did not stop his doubts from whispering that she had moved on.

Ultimately it was Serella that had crossed those fulms on her way to convene for the Alliance leaders all meeting over the war table. As ever, it was her closing the distance between them, and never the other way round, he thought somberly. Still, he could not linger in that melancholy when she smiled at him, when their eyes met for the first time in over a year. Where he had thought the year might have, more than understandably, aged her for the hell she had been put through, she looked as though the clock had wound back three; her hair was the same shoulder length it had been when he had met her, her eyes glinted in that playfully dangerous way that had first caught his attention. She was familiar and mysterious to him all over again, as if she were merely the woman of legend made flesh before him and he was beholding her for the first time anew.

Apt, given he felt about as foolish under her hooded gaze now as he did from the first.

“Ser Aymeric.” She greeted with a bow of her head—and by the Fury, he had nearly forgotten how soft and low and sweet her voice was to his heart. “Ser Lucia.” She addressed his First with another bow toward her.

He knew not what to say; her name, her title—any of her titles—her rank? In the momentary lapse of his mind catching up to him, he faintly heard Lucia address her: Storm Lieutenant Arcbane. His heart still in his throat he could do little more than incline his head in a bow and hope the smile on his face conveyed at least an onze of how much he missed her.

Standing beside Serella as the Alliance collectively discussed their next course of action in the Ala Mhigan theatre of war was nothing less than agony, knowing she was now ilms from him and yet so far out of his reach. His entire focus was pulled to Raubahn as he relayed the plan for attacking Castrum Abania because he knew that if even an onze of it strayed to the striking Paladin standing beside him he would be utterly lost to her.

Ere long, the meeting adjourned, and time seemed to slow as Serella turned to greet both him and Lucia. When she opened her mouth to speak, however, it was as though the spell was broken, the realm caught up with her, and she and her brother were suddenly being called for. Though she whipped her head toward the Scion that was shouting for her, she turned back at him and with a smile mouthed, ‘later,’ and trotted off to attend to her business.

Just as well, he thought with mild disappointment, for there was yet work to be done on their end as well. No rest for the righteous, for the wicked never sleep, after all.

Ishgard’s encampment at the Praetoria was marked with familiar blue banners before their arrival to better distinguish them against the other Eorzean Alliance bases with their own respective banners, and it was not long before Aymeric had fallen back into the rhythm of issuing orders and handling patrols. He had nearly been able to distract himself from the knowledge that Serella was so close after so long away—nearly, but not entirely. A missive came to inform them that there would be a representative around to confirm the readiness of Ishgard’s forces, so he at least had a deadline to focus on.

“There you are,” he heard her greet. He turned just in time to see her walking up the ramp of the parapet to the tower. She grinned broadly as she neared. “Storm Lieutenant Arcbane here to confirm readiness of Ishgardian forces!” She declared as she gave them a Storm salute.

“Ah, full glad are we that ‘tis you who was sent, much as it beggars belief.” Lucia spoke, when Serella neared. “One would think they would be content to send a squire.”

“Ever the gilded errand girl, me.” The Paladin teased, even as she reached out for her sister first, gently clasping her hands and exchanging warm pleasantries and warmer smiles with Lucia, and it gladdened him to see them so happy; though more reserved with her emotions, his First had missed her as much as he had, he knew. “And I asked to check in on everyone— if I’m the one presenting for confirmation, then I don’t have to track Merlwyb down later for muster.”

They shared a laugh quieted behind hands and hidden with coughs; happy as they were to see one another again, they were still in the middle of a warzone, after all.

“By the Fury, ‘tis good to see you again!” Aymeric floundered still at what would be appropriate to say in such an instance, though he could not help the relieved, elated words that spilled forth; he had known she had survived all the encounters that had dotted her time away from Ishgard, but to actually see her for the first time since she had left had brought his suppressed and aching yearning to the fore. He must have looked ridiculous, sighing and smiling as he was.

Serella released Lucia’s hands and turned to him. Her smile felt more pained, more forced, and for a moment he feared he was the cause.

“Would that it were under happier circumstances.” She said softly— and he was reminded that she was rather close with Krile, the captive Scion still awaiting rescue in Castrum Abania. In an instant, his smile faded: he was the Lord Commander here, not Aymeric. Not hers. Not yet. As with all things intrinsically tied to them, they would have to fight for the right to such a reprieve.

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “Lest we keep you from your task, rest assured: Ishgard stands ready.”

Her expression still clouded, she gave a nod of her own.

“I can’t tarry long— I’ve the others to check in with, but,” after a moment of indecision, she reached out and squeezed both of his hands— he had not even realized he had offered them until he was reminded of the smoothed callouses on her fingertips and how they felt against his. “I have missed you, dear one.”

“And I you.” He said earnestly. He gave her hands a squeeze and released them. “Go, we shall have forces ready for your return.”

Though he could see she was practically ready to burst from the seams from the hundred expressions that passed her face in the span of a few seconds, she ultimately settled on her customary grim determination, and with a nod she was away once more.

He had not realized Lucia was staring at him flatly until he chanced a glance in her direction, and he vaguely wondered how long he had watched Serella leave before that moment— but to look back again, the Paladin had left.

“Is aught amiss?” He asked hesitantly.

“...Permission to speak freely, Lord Commander?” She asked hesitantly.

“Granted.”

“In the interest of avoiding harming my sister, you had best speak with her upon her return.” Lucia closed her eyes, breathed deeply through her nose, and exhaled slowly. “For if you instead take a preference to resuming your wistful sighing and longing gazes out of any window you walk past, I will throw you out of the next one.”

“Duly noted, First Commander.” Aymeric said around an embarrassed chuckle, though after a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “...has it truly been every window?”

“Near enough, Lord Commander.” Lucia replied tiredly, already dutifully back into parade rest, awaiting orders, her point made.

He had intended to speak with Serella the moment she had returned— and that she had returned in victory was an immense relief. Though he had only happened to spy her in passing, armor no worse for wear but coated thickly in what he could only assume was oil from the Magitek machines she had been made to destroy, she could not tarry long: already her healing magic was helping to sustain the newly rescued Krile. His wants could wait: Krile’s health was vastly more important, and there was more work yet to be done besides.

There was a sweet madness in the hours spent waiting for a chance to speak with Serella, Aymeric thought idly, pouring over the most reports of troop movement as he was. The work that had kept him occupied, while arduous and demanding was something of a blessing; the work kept him adequately occupied.

Coordinating with the other members of the Alliance under one roof—and the ability to simply walk down one of the hallways of Porta Praetoria to better communicate—was a welcome change of pace rather than hearing scattered reports through the grapevine or trying to organize a conference call through linkpearl.

Still, much as the complexity of their reports and battle stratagems was a pleasant distraction, his mind did not linger on them upon their completion, and as he had miraculously dwindled the pile down to the last page, he found himself wondering how he would occupy his time so late past sundown in the even that he could not speak with the Warrior of Light.

“More reports, still?” He smiled as he heard Serella ask in a soft voice.

Turning his head to see her approaching his side he felt the tension in his shoulders ease as she came to lean the backs of her thighs against the desk he had been working from. The sight in front of him, of the Paladin that had so thoroughly captivated him standing beside him as he worked felt warmly nostalgic. All at once, he was home again.

“This is the last, blessedly.” He answered her, signing off on the report once he had found it to his satisfaction. “A great many of them have been confirming stratagems for retaking Ala Mhigo proper— better that they are not left to chance.” Serella nodded in understanding, heels of her hands resting atop the desk.

“I’m glad you’ve a moment to breathe, then,” she said quietly. With a small smile she asked, “how have you been?”

“Better now,” he reassured her, his smile widening.

“That’s good,” she said, nodding. Though her smile was genuinely relieved she avoided letting her gaze linger on him for too long, staring out in front of her at the parapets of the Praetoria and beyond. “That’s good.” She said again but softer, as if to herself.

“Is aught amiss?” Aymeric asked her, worry gnawing at the edges of his senses as he took in her unusually tense features. “Serella?” He called to her softly again when she did not respond after a few moments.

“Sorry,” she said with an almost bashful laugh. “Sorry, it’s just,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. “It’s been some time since we’ve spoken in person.”

“It has,” he agreed somberly. Before he could articulate precisely how much he missed her, she continued.

“It’s been over a year.” Serella said softly. She stared down at her shoes as if to avoid looking at him. “Though…I suppose I only truly know that because I got your message.”

For one brief moment, he fumbled to recall what message she could be referring to—though they were few, they had corresponded in the time that they were apart…but there was only one message that would leave her looking so tense.

His first message. His farewell and confession in equal measure.

“Ah,” Aymeric breathed. Though he did not clench his hands in his lap he felt the passing urge to do so out of habit. “I am glad that you received it.” He admitted, his voice matching hers. “I had feared that I had recorded it incorrectly.”

Oddly, fumbling with the thrice damned screen of that tomestone had been the most strenuous part of the whole ordeal.

“Hadn’t until a few months ago, actually.” Serella said with a huff of an almost laugh. “I’m impressed— even thousands of malms away and months too late, you manage to catch me off guard.”

“Have I caused you discomfort?” He asked, acutely aware that his heart was hammering rather hard against his Adam’s apple; he had hoped his overtures would be welcome, though if things had changed— or they were never welcome from the start...

“Not at all,” Serella said quickly, though did not lift her gaze. “I only wanted to make it clear that it is not…” she frowned. “I won’t hold you to it, over a year on.” She shrugged, a hand scrubbing at the back of her neck—a telltale sign that this had been something that had been bothering her for quite some time. “I mean, it’s silly, right? To expect that you feel—“ when her voice cracked she cleared her throat. “Well. It wouldn’t be realistic of me to expect that, so if you don’t…”

The beginnings of anxiety that had constricted his throat loosened enough that he could swallow his heart at the revelation of what she was saying.

She was giving him an out.

She had been worried—and not unfairly so—that the distance would be too far to bridge, that too much time had passed, and they could never recover what they had been. It was a reasonable fear, he knew; for even as he had made that desperate, reckless recording, he had known that at any given point, she could decide that his tethers need not be hers. That he was a bird with clipped wings, and naught but he stopped her from flying. It had lingered in the back of his mind, the thought that he would reunite with her only for her to shatter his heart.

She was still fumbling for the right words to permit him a graceful exit as he stood slowly from his seat. She still did not look at him as she tried to explain that it was fine if his heart lie elsewhere because it’s been so long, and that’s okay, we promised, right? I’m used to it, it’s alright, and in her distraction, she had not realized he had stepped in front of her until his hands held her face and coaxed her into looking at him.

She broke his heart, staring at him with eyes so filled with tears that she desperately tried to hold back, but by the Fury she healed him with the way her hand came up to grip at the lapels of his coat.

If she did not need an out, then neither did he.

Slowly, deliberately, he bent to let their lips meet, slow enough to give her enough time to push him away—giving her one last out— but then she pulled him down the last ilm herself, that they might at last bridge the malms and months that had separated them.

Their kiss was unrushed, languid, a reacquaintance, an I miss you, a sigh of relief. They lingered as though they had all the time in the world. He kissed her until he felt her soften, felt her press against him, sighed at her hands stroking his face, his hair, as if she had to remap all of him with her fingertips.

He only broke away when he was certain that he had been clear in his declaration. Though to behold her again the words came without thought— for she needed to hear them again, and he needed to say them for the rest of his days.

“I love you.” He said simply—because that had never changed.

The relieved huff of laughter that escaped her sounded more like a sob but she positively beamed at him even as he set to work brushing her tears away.

“And I love you.” She said, smiling, and though they had yet to march upon Ala Mhigo, to hear it already felt like a victory in its own right, her smile against his lips a fitting reward.

#I am as ever your shield #Serella Arcbane #Aymeric de Borel #Lucia goe Junius #this one's been sitting in my drafts about as long as Months and Malms Ago was so uhh #I'm glad to finally get it out!#*now* I just have to write them ACTUALLY getting together and uhh #I think we'll be good??? other than some connective tissue???#*cracks knuckles*#I hope you enjoy!

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kkotseo · 4 years

Text

— in response to @consilian

Careless, foolish and jaded, an awful combination if you were to ask Seoah.

An amazing feat even, if interpreted on the brighter side of things. To construct a reply deemed just to her wit in the midst of a battle with undesired slumber deserved an applaud. Alas, the soloist didn’t even have the strength to do so herself. The weight of her body sunk her further to the ground. The wall she leaned against barely had the support she needed to stay seated. The carpet felt cozy, almost like a cushion. Rough to the touch indeed, though better than the cold parquet.

Seoah wished to speak more. Speech consumed too much energy, a function disabled when the soloist was in power-saving mode. Given the current circumstances, her mind was close to shutting down. However, stubborn impulse kept her pushing to her limits despite the physical warnings. Also, if it wasn’t for Daehyun, she would forfeit to inelegant conducts for a rest.

Presence. His was an undeniable reminder to where they were. A hotel hobby, deserted due to the wee hours of the morning. Supposedly deserted since she disrupted the unsaid normalcy with her fatigued posture, head hung low by gravity. A jolt of surprise ensued as a result of the pain on her neck, eyes wide for a second. Lights too bright, eyelids quick to shield her dark orbs from environmental discomfort. She could only laugh sleepily to reassure the shadow she saw briefly. Embarrassment couldn’t get the upper hand, it seemed. Consciousness wasn’t around to reinforce the emotion as it should. She stuck to humour instead with her chuckle lingering longer than intended.

Movements. She could barely tell. To distinguish what happened around her became an arduous task. But she was in good hands. Seoah knew that much. Daehyun was a friend she trusted wholeheartedly. If not for her semi-consciousness, gratitude would be expressed better than a sloppy smile hung on her lips.

Then, a gentle touch. A better source of support found her side. Warmer and definitely comfier than the wall which encouraged the soloist to stand finally. Wobbled steps to stay in place and heavy eyelids still draped over her blurred vision, she held onto him a bit too forcefully as her weight quadrupled, unable to withhold it herself. ❝ Daehyun...? ❞ A strong yet careful grip maintained her stable before proceeding to where her room was. She followed the motion without restraint, tilted head resting on a shoulder.

❝ You don’t... have to. ❞ Mumbles occurred at sparse timings. With her senses numbed by exhaustion, her strength rendered nonexistent, incredible how her fighting spirit remained. ❝ You need rest too... ❞ Her lame attempts to reason him fell silent once she found the bed’s comfort. The pillow’s contact was enough to send her where she should be: Dreamland.

Seoah’s stay there felt short. Returning to reality with a supposedly charged battery proved itself deceitful. The brain buffered last night’s events as slow as it was a few hours earlier until the story unfolded to a shocking realization. A growl muffled under the blankets conveniently placed up to her nose, dishevelled hair pushed back from her face once she sat, hands were quick to grab her phone. Good thing he was not around to witness her flustered reaction or he wouldn’t hear the end of her nagging.

[ ✉ → 문대헌 ]

Wakey, wakey, Daehyun-ah! The birds are chirping and so should you! ㅎㅎ Our plans for today still work, right? I better see you!

And hmm... about last night, I hope I wasn’t much of a hassle...

Thanks for that though. If I have done anything stupid, please kindly erase all unflattering images of me from your conscience! (＾▽＾)

An exhale once her phone fell off her grasp, landing on duvet. Oh well, what happened couldn’t be undone. Tiredness would always follow her. No matter what, as if it was part of her lifestyle. She would have done the same for him, if roles were to switch someday. Seoah definitely would.

#consilian #consilian. daehyun #.paragraphs #.messages #( it is not an obligation to answer in return )#( i just felt like writing seoah's side )#( uvu )#( any occasion to type something and i'll take it )

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ahlis-xiv · 5 years

Text

Of Moogles and Mail

“Ah, Ahlis! You are just the woman I’ve been waiting for.”

Ahlis looked up at the sound of Ephemie’s voice, curious. After the departure of Thancred towards Garlean territory and Y'shtola making her way to the Far East, Ahlis sough to relax after their return from Yanxia. Pushing aside the book in her hand she got up and walked over.

“It’s good to see you...what is it?”

Ephemie approached from her usual place behind the dry bar and waved her hand over to a large cabinet. Ahlis followed and stood before it as her fellow Scion placed a hand on the knob before opening it.

“I thought of placing these in your room but thought better of it. I know you like to keep your things undisturbed since, you know…”

Ahlis nodded once, briefly; the state of her belongings after the forceful takeover of Ilberd’s men was not unknown to the other Scions. It was a small consideration, a thankful one.

“Well,” Ephemie continued, “the post moogle has made a very prolific pile of mail all for you.”

Ahlis blanched, an expression which very quickly turned into contempt.

“Those furry, useless--”

“You would have received your mail at the Reach, but the moogle, he looked quite shaken,” Ephemie said as she attempted to explain in an effort to try and keep Ahlis’s temper in check.

“Oh did he now?” Ahlis did not sound impressed in the least.

A sympathetic lift of Ephemie’s brows appeared on her face.

“’It’s a war zone over there, kupo!’ To reiterate his own words. He’s not wrong, you know.”

“Really.”

Ahlis did not look convinced, and without further ado Ephemie opened the cabinet to reveal a near-bursting red bag of mail.

“Would you like some help?” Ephemie offered yet Ahlis humphed in return.

“I can handle it on my own,” Ahlis grumbled as she pulled out the heavy post bag with both hands into her arms.

Upon one of the empty tables the various letters spilled forth from the open mouth of the bag as Ahlis overturned it, emptying it entirely before setting it aside on one of the chairs. In another chair she sat down and for a moment marveled at the pile meant solely for her.

“Someone is quite the popular one isn’t she?”

Ephemie had followed behind to watch the mail cascade upon the table, the realization that so much had come for Ahlis and Ahlis alone, was a little startling despite understanding her renown.

“I’m never trusting the moogle post again,” Ahlis pushed one of her hands through the letters and pulled a piece at random. It was an advertisement of all things, on thick parchment with a request if the ‘esteemed Warrior of Light’ would give patronage.

“You sure you don’t want an extra pair of hands?”

“Aye, I’m sure. What was I thinking, wanting my mail delivered while within contested territory? Knowing most moogles are little chicken shites?”

Ephemie bit down on her lip a little, attempting not to laugh. It wasn’t every day she got a chance to hear Ahlis curse. After a moment she cleared her throat, the urge passing.

“Should be a good half year’s worth of post in this pile at least, I believe...”

Ahlis sighed audibly, her mouth twisting in an unimpressed grimace. Ephemie left her alone after that, the slow sound of letter after letter being ripped open, crumpled or filed away filling the calm quiet of the Rising Stones’ living area.

It was simple to fall into the rhythm of prying open envelopes, unfolding parchment, deciding whether such a letter was to be the next batch of kindling or something worth holding on to. Ahlis’s spirits dropped again; another letter from some enthusiast, from Gridania. This one was not accompanied by any gifts or tokens of affection, thankfully, nor was it written in a child’s hand which was a disappointment; the letters from children were adorable and worth keeping, but their numbers were few. She read it quickly and folded it again, placing it her growing ‘keep’ pile.

While she did not care for flattery it was different when sent via correspondence, although it was almost equally awkward. Ahlis could hear Thancred’s voice in her mind: ‘to think your number of growing admirers would someday outstrip mine!’...she smiled at her own amusement; he would say that, wouldn’t he? She was one to think so.

Stopping to rub her thumb for a moment she realized how sore it had become. The pile of mail had diminished significantly; truth be told she could probably stop for the day and easily wrap it up on the morrow.

One more, she told herself, as she reached one last time for another letter. Another letter from a fanatic most likely, or maybe another advertisement, or another appeal for her to please eradicate such and such pest or to send in her opinion on something, or…

“What...”

The letter now within her grasp was unlike any of the others she had pilfered thus far. The parchment was fine quality, and the handwriting, addressing her name and residence...Ahlis couldn’t believe it.

It arrived from Ishgard, and sent from the Congregation. That could mean no other: it was word from Ser Aymeric. She stood up with such a hurry it almost sent her chair backwards as she frantically searched the rest of what mail remained. The other letters, deliveries and what ever else the moogle had brought her way over the past few months were scattered across the table with little care or thought.

“Ahlis?” Ephemie called out from behind the bar, “what are you...?”

The other Scion sounded a touch bewildered yet Ahlis did not bother to reply, not after finding another—and another, by the gods—from the lord commander. When no less than four meticulously addressed letters were in her grasp did Ahlis halt her search, confident that she had discovered them all. Ephemie walked to the table again and stopped at the Warrior of Light’s side: she saw that the woman was holding those letters to her breast, as if unbelieving they had arrived just for her.

“Is everything well?” Ephemie asked, her confusion from before still very much apparent in her expression.

Ahlis turned to her and her eyes danced between regarding her coworker, back to the table, and then away as she left the commons altogether.

“I’ll be in my quarters!”

Ephemie simply stared at her departure, none of her questions answered.

Ahlis opened the door to her room with all the haste she could muster before closing it behind her, the lock latching into place. The window had been left open a few ilms so the air would not stale as much; there was no concern for thievery either as her room was at a considerable height and she did not fear anything intrusion via the casement.

Walking to her writing desk she places all the letters upon it and stopped. For all the thoughts now circling within her mind Ahlis found herself at a loss: where could she possibly begin?

Just pick one! She berated herself and in her own fury at her weak indecisiveness she pried open the oldest letter first. At least the moogles had the sense to postmark the damned things. Ahlis breathed and unfolded the soft paper. It was the first few letters after the dating of the letter that she focused on, they were of her name.

Ahlis,

She stopped again and she looked away from the parchment. The corners of her eyes were starting to grow hot. This letter was real and whole and in her grasp, finally after all those months. She did not know if she was ready to read it, gods knew what its contents would reveal. Ahlis wanted to berate herself again, that the simple task—the fear—of reading such a letter was really so crippling?

She took a breath, exhaled, and started again, looking back upon the letter and, this time, she read it in full.

Ahlis,

I hope this letter finds you in better spirits when last we spoke. Now that the liberation of Ala Mhigo is secured we are now faced with the arduous task of assisting a newly freed nation: we mus needs do what we can so that such efforts bear much fruit for the future.

Yet my desire to write this letter for you stems not for my need to congratulate our victories against our enemies, nor to further burden you with the pragmatism of politics and the strategies a nation born anew must face. I write to you, in the hope that you receive this, with my most profound apologies.

The morning when you came to me I failed to understand your pain. You were suffering in a manner for which my insensitivity was inexcusable, and in these respects I failed you completely, and utterly, as a friend.

I am truly sorry for the wrong I have brought against you. Pray allow me to make amends. I would fain tell all of this to you in person, yet we are at the mercy of our duties, and you need not reply lest you desire more of me.

Aymeric

It was a strange sensation that moved through her now, having finally received what she knew part of her had been dreading for months. Perhaps dread was not entirely correct, as Ahlis also longed for a resolution too, and with it was the infinitesimal spark of hope that maybe it would me an amicable one. Yet the months passed, and nothing came to her hands. It was easy, then, to expect the worst outcome and to blame her own foolishness for ruining something before it even had a chance to begin. Ahlis had cursed herself in the dark hours when she was alone, when the urge to put her pen to paper was greatest, that she had done nothing to save what honestly mattered in the end.

But now all of that fretfulness was for naught. As Ahlis read the letter again, slower this time to savor ever sentence and to see just how the curve of the ink expressed every letter in a hand so much finer than her own, did the weight begin to lift from her heart and the stinging tears of relief touched her lashes.

A moment passed before she pressed the base of her palms to her eyes while holding back her urge to sniffle and she placed that first letter aside. The others were opened one by one, their contents devoured with a growing purpose that now possessed her as she opened drawers for ink, a quill and a clean piece of paper. The task before her still felt daunting, even now that she had her instruments in hand. Her grip upon the pen fidgeted; uncertain. The letters were there on the desk before her, waiting, like an open hand. From the days following the liberation and their last words to each other, Aymeric believed in sending small and poignant reminders that he still remembered her, regardless if she ever replied at all.

Gods help me, where do I even start?

She dipped her pen into the ink, tapping off the excess. Her hand hovered just above the parchment.

“To hells with it, Ahlis, just do it,” she cursed to herself, voice low and vehement.

Then, she began to write.

#; my writing #ffxiv fanfiction #ahlis #x-posting from ao3 because eeey #this had been sitting for ages in the editing pile #it's as done as it's ever gonna be!#part 2 is forthcoming #; final fantasy xiv #warrior of light #alas the tradition of adding image headers won't continue due to tumblr's new policies #not risking it #but hey! progress #wol x ser aymeric #ser aymeric

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gummysungshine · 6 years

Text

FFXV Loqi Week: Day 1 (Family)

Fic masterlist: http://gummysungshine.tumblr.com/post/164077158169

Day and Prompt(s): Day 1, Family Pairing: Mentions of Cor/Loqi Rating: Teen??? Word count: 886 Warnings: Unbeta’d so there might be mistakes.

Not entirely sure how to sum this up, but I’ve been thinking about this idea for a little while now :)

---

“Thought you weren’t gonna show.”

Approaching the Niff, equally as disguised under the hood of his clothes, pulling it closer to his face, Luche could just about hear the snide lilt to the younger’s tone.

“Leaving the city is harder than you think.” He retorted. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of free roam as a Niff.”

Getting out of the city in general was an arduous task, let alone travelling beyond Leide and into Duscae.

“You didn’t have to choose their side.” The blond so aptly reminded him. “The Imperial army would have welcomed you with open arms.”

“Didn’t think Niffs took too kindly to ‘savages’?”

Getting a small laugh out of him, Luche knew the Niff’s apparently distaste for outsiders still stood strong - for the most part. Especially with Loqi being oh so vocal about it.

“You still have Niff blood. That would count for something.” Loqi reminded.

Niff blood or not, Luche didn’t exactly consider himself much of a Niff anyway. Galahd was his home, despite sharing the same Niff-born father as Loqi. Mixing had never been taken too kindly by those within the Empire, leaving his own mother to pick up the pieces of one Imperial’s little ‘mistake’.

“Either way, it doesn’t matter does it?” Luche brushed off the notion. “I won’t be defending Lucis for much longer.”

“Never thought of you as a traitor.” The younger smirked.

“Seems like backstabbing runs in the family...doesn’t it, Loqi?” Came his accusatory tone.

Frozen on the spot, turning his head to cast his eyes suspiciously upon the elder, the smile pulling at Luche’s lips did nothing to ease Loqi’s sudden panic.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Luche laughed, waving his finger disapprovingly. “I know what you’ve been up to.”

Quick to retort, Loqi defended himself without missing a beat.

“I have no idea what you’re—”

“Liaising with the Marshal?” Luche silenced him, knowing he’d caught his brother out immediately - if the look in his eyes told him anything. “I’m not here to snitch on you. I’m just curious.”

Curious? Loqi thought. Not knowing how Luche had even found out about his covert meetings with Cor, the entire situation didn’t sit right with him.

“What about?” Playing it careful for the time being, he let his half-sibling ask his questions.

“Ah, so you don’t deny it?” The Galahdian teased. “I don’t understand why you’d do it. Betray your home? Doesn’t exactly sound like you.”

Often prattling on about the glory of the Empire, it was no secret that the blond displayed his apparent devotion to his nation proudly.

“We...we share a common goal.” Loqi hesitated.

Hearing Luche’s laugh echo into the evening air, Loqi knew he didn’t believe a word he said. Yet it came as little surprise.

“That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard. Come on...you can tell me. Like I said, I’m not here to snitch. That would be a bit foolish of me, don’t you think?”

Telling him why - the real reason why - wasn’t something Loqi had ever admitted, it wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have to admit. It wasn’t Luche’s business to know, but with the cat half out the bag, there wasn’t much he could do to hide it. Clenching his jaw tight, resigning himself to the fact that his best option was to come clean, lest his brother never let him hear the end of it, Loqi simply spoke the honest truth.

“...I love him. And he loves me.”

A small stretch of silence lingered at his words, leaving Loqi wondering if Luche had even heard him at all. But alas, that simply wasn’t the case, not when the elder answered with the same belittling tone Loqi was so used to.

“Loves you? Don’t be so absurd!” Luche crowed. “He doesn’t love you, believe me. He’s just using you. The sooner you realise that, the better.”

“You’re not him, you don’t know that.” Loqi defended.” You can’t speak on his behalf.”

Chuckling away at the blond’s innocent gullibility, Luche almost pitied him. The Marshal never struck him as a particularly cruel or manipulative man, but Luche supposed everyone would do what they had to in order to get what they wanted. And didn’t seem like an exception to that rule.

“Listen. Think about it.” Hooking an arm around Loqi’s shoulders, he pulled the younger in. “Why would someone like the Marshal choose someone like you? Hm? You’re a Niff, you’re sworn enemies.” He rattled off the glaringly obvious reason. “Plus...I can’t ever see a man like him with a boy like you.”

Shrugging off Luche’s arm with scoff, distancing himself, throwing him one last look of spite, Loqi removed himself from his brother’s company.

“I don’t have to listen to this.”

He waved off his words without hesitation, making an attempt to leave when Luche called back.

“You walk away because you know it’s true.” The elder spoke matter-of-factly. “The truth hurts, Loqi.”

Not even entertaining the idea of arguing back, knowing that was just what Luche wanted from him, the Niff kept walking. Luche knew nothing. He was just an outsider to their...relationship. He couldn’t possibly understand. At least that was what Loqi told himself. Cor loved him. He did. He knew he did. There was no... Doubt.

#ffxvloqiweek #FFXV #Loqi Tummelt #Luche Lazarus #Cor Leonis #Corqi #Cor/Loqi

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dancingkirby · 5 years

Text

Chapter 1: In which things start out awkward and get worse

Long-awaited sequel START! Yeah, still don’t know if/when it’ll be finished, but I seem to have a pretty clear outline now.

Anyway, I have been frustrated by miscommunications caused by autism as of late, so I decided to write a whole chapter where it was turned up to 11. It was kind of interesting writing Eska as the “bad guy” for once...but her POV is coming up next chapter.

“Korra?”

“Yeah?”

“We have a situation.”

Korra and Asami had been packing Korra’s things for the former’s long-awaited permanent move to the latter’s mansion. It was an arduous task, and one that really couldn’t be made any easier by bending. (Korra knew because she had tried airbending, which just made the mess worse.) Asami had left Air Temple Island to take the first load of boxes to her house, and Korra was just starting to think that she had been gone a long time when Ikki came to her to inform her that she was on the phone.

Korra paused to catch her breath from the mad dash to the phone, and then inquired, “What…kind of situation?”

“Your cousins decided to pay a visit.”

“Desna and Eska?!” As if she had any other cousins that she knew of.

“Yep. I found them sitting outside the outer gate. They’re on the porch now. They refused to go inside the house or even say why they’re here until you get here.”

Korra smacked her forehead. Moving day was stressful enough, but now she had her weird relatives to deal with.

“Okay…okay. I can do this. I’ll have them get Oogi ready. Be there in a bit. Love you.”

“Love you too. Oh, I almost forgot.”

“Hm?”

“They have a kid with them.”

After a brief stop at the police station to ask Mako for backup (since one never knew with the twins, and she’d prefer not to have to use brute force if there was a problem), Korra punched in the code at Asami’s gate and let the two of them in. Sure enough, her cousins hadn’t budged; they were sitting on hastily-found and mismatched chairs like they owned the place. And there was indeed a child…a girl of about three. The child looked supremely uncomfortable, and was holding on to Eska’s hand for dear life. She had lighter skin than would be expected for a Water Tribe individual, but more importantly, she had very green eyes. It was almost as if someone had made an exact copy of her father’s eyes and nose, then pasted them down onto Eska’s fine-boned face.

Hold on a minute. Did that mean that Bolin and Eska…Korra desperately tried to cancel that train of thought.

Mercifully, just then Mako made a noise that was most akin to a choking komodo rhino. The child started crying. Eska shot Mako a murderous look as she pulled the child onto her lap.

“All right, calm down…just calm down...” Mako muttered, presumably as much to himself as to the trio on the porch. He walked a short distance away and took several deep breaths.

When he got back, he said in a more even tone, “Asami, I will need to use your phone, because Bolin is in big fu…” -he shot a glance at the kid-“freaking trouble.”

“Sure.”

“Do we really need to involve him in this right now?” Korra asked. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to bring him after all.

“He’s going to find out sooner or later,” was all Mako said. Korra would still have preferred to wait, but Mako had known for Bolin for longer than she had. She decided to let him have the final say against her better judgment.

Once Mako had entered the house, Korra turned to the twins and said “Eska. Desna.”

“Cousin,” they answered in unison. Eska added, “This is Kinalik,” gesturing to the child.

“Um…hi,” Korra said, not having much experience with small children. Kinalik hid her face in Eska’s coat.

Eska abruptly announced, “She needs the toilet.” How she knew that was a mystery to Korra.

“O-of course,” Asami replied. “Just go up the flight of stairs next to the foyer, and you should see it.”

Eska lifted Kinalik into her arms and slouched off without thanking Asami. Korra shot her girlfriend a look of sympathy.

“So are you going to tell us why you’re here?” Korra said as she turned to Desna.

“We thought it would be safer to leave home for the time being, until things blew over,” he replied. Korra waited for him to elaborate on these “things,” but he didn’t.

“Well…we have plenty of room!” Asami told him, trying to smile and be a gracious hostess even under these trying circumstances.

“We will only require one bedroom,” Desna said. At the couple’s strange looks, he went on, “I sleep in the tub, didn’t you know?”

It was impossible for Korra to tell whether he was being serious or not.

Having run out of things to say, the trio hung around awkwardly until Mako returned, followed shortly by Eska and Kinalik.

“Bolin will be here soon. You and him can work things out then,” he said, addressing Eska. “Meanwhile, it looks like the situation is stable, so my job here is done.”

As Mako walked back to his car, Eska said something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “But you didn’t do anything.”

“Not the most impressive police officer I have ever seen,” Desna added in a more audible tone. Korra bit back a retort.

There was nothing left to do but wait until Bolin got here. Korra took that time to observe. Something seemed…off about Kinalik. She hadn’t said anything this entire time, and was now rocking back and forth rather vigorously. Eska had no reaction.

“Is she upset? Is there anything we could bring her?” Asami asked.

“She is fine,” Eska replied.

“Are you sure? I still have my old toys stored up somewhere; I could try to find them.”

“We all have our difficulties,” was the only thing Eska said in response.

But Eska wasn’t neglectful, either. Although she didn’t show the traditional displays of affection one would expect from a mother, she kept a close eye on Kinalik. At one point, Kinalik made a fist with her thumb sticking out, and Eska made an identical gesture and touched their thumbs together.

“Thumb kiss,” she explained when she saw Korra and Asami staring at her.

After a while, Asami rang for some lemonade and refreshments to be brought out. Kinalik grabbed at a dumpling and took a bite, but she immediately spat the bite back out.

“It’s yucky!” she proclaimed at the top of her lungs. So she could talk.

Rather than reprimand her daughter for rudeness, Eska said, “Here, give it to me,” and ate it herself, spat-out bite and all. From the look on her face, it was clear that she shared Kinalik’s opinion, but at least she didn’t verbalize it.

They also ignored Asami’s hint that they might be more comfortable inside the house. Although Eska had removed Kinalik’s coat, she and Desna refused to take off their own.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable?” Asami asked.

“We like being uncomfortable,” Eska shot back. Korra and Asami glanced at each other and decided to drop the matter. If they wanted to die of heatstroke, that was their problem.

Finally, they could just see someone approaching in the distance, so Korra went to meet Bolin at the archway. Please don’t let him have brought Opal!

She shouted out a greeting, and felt a great relief that he had come alone.

“Korra, what’s going on?” he said. He was somewhat pale.

“Um…what exactly did Mako tell you?”

“Just that Eska was at Asami’s house, and I should get my ass over there right now…and that oh yeah, I’m a dad now.”

“I’d say that about covers it. Did you tell anything to Opal?”

“Didn’t have a chance to. She was out shopping somewhere…I think the bookstore?”

Then something appeared to occur to him.

“How do I even know it’s…”

“Trust me. You’ll know.”

Bolin continued to look uneasy.

“She’s not going to hurt you,” Korra assured him with maybe slightly more conviction than she felt. To tell the truth, she didn’t have a good memory of what had happened between those two in the South, having been preoccupied with her own concerns at the time. There was something about a wedding, she knew that.

“I guess the last time we met she didn’t try to kill me, but still…” Bolin trailed off.

“Look, if she tries anything, I’ll be here to protect you, okay?”

“Okay…I guess.”

And off they went.

Kinalik’s resemblance to Bolin was of course immediately obvious to anybody who could see, which did away with any traces of doubt lingering in Bolin’s mind. His legs went out from under him, and he sat down heavily on the porch floor. There was complete silence for several seconds. Desna was pointedly looking away.

“Why didn’t…why didn’t you tell me?” Bolin squeaked once he found his voice.

“There wasn’t exactly an opportune moment,” Eska deadpanned.

“But we met in the hotel lobby just a year ago! Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“By the time that foolish employee stopped bothering us, you were far enough away that I would have had to shout it across the room. And anyway…” Eska looked down and appeared uncharacteristically shy, “I assumed that you would have interpreted the news as another attempt to control you and become irate.”

“What’s irate mean?”

“Angry.”

“I wouldn’t have been angry! I mean, yeah, I was really scared of you, and to be honest I still am, but I like kids. In fact, me and Opal were just talking about…” His torrent of words abruptly ceased as he realized what he’d just said.

“Oops,” he mumbled. Eska raised her eyebrows.

“I was already cognizant of you having another girlfriend, feeble turtleduck. Remember? Although she is not apparently who I thought she was.” She tapped her finger on her chin and added, “Opal…I have heard that name before. Oh yes, she was the one on whom I hung up the phone.”

“Okaaayyy…”

Korra cleared her throat.

“I think some introductions might be in hand,” she prompted. Eska took the hint.

“Indeed. Kinalik, this is Bolin. Bolin…Kinalik.”

“Hey there!” Bolin said as he beamed and reached for the child as if to pick her up. Kinalik screeched and hid her face in Eska’s coat again.

“Don’t lunge at her like that! She’s very sensitive!” Eska scolded.

“Sorry…sorry,” Bolin mumbled as he backed off a few paces.

“She might not have much understanding of what a man actually is,” Desna opined; Korra had almost forgotten that he was there. “She decided that Eska and I were both her mothers, and we saw no need to correct her just yet.”

“Agreed. And her nurse is female, her nurse’s assistants are all female, and her grandfather is deceased. We had intended to introduce her to the concept at a later date, but…we were forced into circumstances that were less than ideal.”

Like Desna, Eska did not say exactly what these circumstances were.

“I have an idea!” Asami stated. “How about we wrap things up for today and try again tomorrow, once…um…how do you pronounce her name again?”

“Kee-nah-leek.”

“Right, once Kinalik has a chance to get rested and used to the change of scenery.”

“That appears to be an adequate plan.”

“Right,” Bolin chimed in. “And I have to…tell Opal, I guess, somehow. How am I going to do that? What if she thinks I was cheating on her?”

“What date did you meet her?”

Bolin was able to tell her approximately, although he wasn’t sure of the exact date.

“I brought a copy of Kinalik’s birth certificate. I presume that your Opal know enough about mathematics to calculate that Kinalik was conceived about two months prior to that date. Should I go locate its whereabouts?”

“No, no, we can save that for later. Because you all look really tired and, uh, Opal will be wondering where I ran off to. And I have to talk to Mako as well. Fun fun fun. So bye.”

He turned and ran down the steps like someone was firebending his rear end.

“His fear is always amusing,” Eska remarked.

After that, the twins were at last convinced to move into the house. Asami arranged for the best guest room to be made up for them, with an en suite full bathroom on the off chance that Desna actually did sleep there.

“It will do,” Eska said.

By then, it was too late for Korra to haul the rest of her stuff over, so she would spend the night.

Dinner was just as uncomfortable as the day’s other events had been. Kinalik revealed herself to be an extremely picky eater, and turned her nose up at anything except for a bowl of plain noodles. The twins did eat the regular meal of chicken and vegetable stir fry with rice, but Eska in particular picked at her food and hardly actually consumed anything.

Asami tried her hardest to include them in various conversation topics, including the plans for Korra’s upcoming move-in party, the weather (unusually warm for so early in the spring), and even pro-bending (which was widely thought to never have been the same after Amon’s invasion). But Eska and Desna mostly kept to monosyllabic answers, and excused themselves at the first possible opportunity.

It broke Korra’s heart to see her girlfriend looking progressively more crestfallen as the evening went on. After dinner, Asami put on the ugly pajamas, which was code for “No sex tonight,” and went almost directly to bed.

Enough was enough. It was time for Korra to give Eska and Desna a piece of her mind, cousins or not, chieftains or not.

When she knocked on the guest bedroom door, she heard Kinalik start to fuss inside.

Eska opened the door and frowned at Korra.

“We just got her to sleep,” she informed her cousin.

“Sorry about that,” Korra answered. “But we need to talk.”

Eska sighed, and said, “Fine. But let us at least do so some distance away.”

Once they had reached the end the corridor, Korra faced her cousin straight on.

“Listen. This rudeness towards Asami needs to stop right now. She is doing everything she can to make you comfortable-despite you showing up with no notice whatsoever-and you have not so much as thanked her even once. If you have something against me, let me hear it. Don’t take it out on her. Are we clear about this?”

Eska rocked back on her heels and looked genuinely caught off-guard for the first time that Korra had seen.

“If you had to endure what we have had to endure over the past thirty hours, then maybe you would be more empathetic,” she all but growled.

“I dunno, I’ve had to endure a lot!”

“You have never had to expel a human being from your nether regions. Unless that was why you went back South.”

Now it was Korra’s turn to be caught off-guard.

“You. Absolute. Bitch! That was not the reason and you know it.”

“Well, at any rate, until you’ve feared for your child’s life, then maybe you should keep your oral orifice tightly SECURED!”

She turned and stomped back to her room.

“Eska, wait…what? What are you talking about?”

Eska paused at the door and said, “I was going to inform you tomorrow. But maybe now I don’t feel like it.” She opened the door wide as if to slam it, but caught herself just in time.

#legend of korra #fanfic #eska #boleska

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starryeyeddowner · 6 years

Text

I wrote up a backstory for my (hopefully next!) dnd character, a dwarf(?) paladin. It’s a long one with a lot of melodramatic shit but I’m! so! pumped! to play him! Hopefully soon.

It was near midnight when the celebration in the town of Sanctuary finally died down. Baldrin the dwarf watched through the banister posts of the church balcony as teenagers ran down Main Street with dragonflight sparklers. A soft smile appeared on his face as he watched them go, their laughs echoing up into the night.

"We couldn't have asked for better weather," came a gentle, lilting voice behind him. Baldrin turned to see Elenna, a silver-haired human, who came up beside him and rested her arms on the banister. She continued to stare across the town and up into the night sky.

Baldrin followed her gaze, "Yes, lovely and clear, and more beautiful than any geode. Grander too, even."

Elenna laughed, "You are talking about the sky, are you not?" She turned her head to give Baldrin a smirk, and found him blushing furiously. He met her eyes.

"To think, it's been thirty years since you came here and made Sanctuary what it is."

Baldrin shook his head, "Sanctuary exists because of its people."

"Which you bring out the best in." Elenna extended a hand to gently brush the side of Baldrin's face. "Imagine how different tonight's Founding celebration would have been had we not been able to save Farmer Wilton's crop this season. But we did because you extended a hand of friendship to the orc outlanders, what, two years ago?" She leaned down, whispering conspiratorially, "Don't tell Aly I told you this, but she told me in confidence that when she grows up, she wants to be just like you, braided beard and all."

Baldrin began to chuckle, and the two of them shared a quiet laugh together. Elenna studied his face for a moment, then gently shook her head, "You don't look a day older than that day you came over the northern mountains. I don't know if it's your dwarven longevity, or just your youthful exuberance."

Baldrin smiled at this, and turned his eyes to look over the town. "Well," he said finally, "I should clean up the chapel at least a little before it gets too late."

Elenna nodded, "I probably need to check on the twins to make sure they fall asleep at a reasonable time. Goodness knows they are probably still up." She rested a hand gently on his shoulder, "Good night, Baldrin."

Baldrin placed the broom back in its usual corner. Most of the food had been eaten, but the meal tables still had plenty of plates and silver upon it. Baldrin looked at it then told himself that he and the other party planners would take care of it in the morning. He passed by it and made his way up to the front of the room, to the offering bench. This too probably needed cleaning, but Baldrin figured Drunfel would want to leave it for at least a few days.

He could barely see the holy symbols and effigies over the mounds of varied offerings, ranging from voluminous bundles of flowers to simple coins, bread, wooden carvings, and dozens if not hundreds of scraps of paper, containing prayers, notes of thanks, or the names of passed loved ones. Baldrin kneeled in front of them, hands clasped in his lap and began his prayers.

"Blessed be your name Chauntea, for providing us the means to help ourselves, and those in need. Lathander, for the dawn's light and the life of our town..." He continued down the list of gods and goddesses. He prayed to Selûne the Goddess of the Moon, to Berronar the dwarven Goddess of Safety, to Cyrrollalee, halfling Goddess of Friendship and Hospitality, and more offering words of thanks and prayer to each.

After he finished, he knelt there for a moment more in quiet prayer before getting up. As he opened his eyes he caught a flicker of light off the corner of his eye. He turned to see flames flickering gently from the church's hearth.

Baldrin's brow furrowed. The cooking fire had been extinguished hours ago. Hmm, maybe the children had thrown some fireworks into the warm coals to see what would happen, he thought. Understandable, but foolish and potentially dangerous. Regardless, it was probably best to extinguish it. No need to risk a fire. He made his way back around the meal table to put it out.

As he approached, he furrowed his brow again. It wasn't a firework in the hearth, but instead a singular, dancing flame, flickering, almost flashing. Baldrin drew closer, peering quizzically at the flame when it suddenly flared up into a roaring fire. Baldrin shielded his eyes at the sudden brightness, when he heard a voice speak to him.

"BALDRIN OF SANCTUARY," it said to him in a voice at once both deafeningly loud and deathly quiet, "YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN FOR A TASK GREAT AND TERRIBLE."

Baldrin lowered his arm to see the fire glowing unnaturally bright, spears of light radiating out in a halo around it. "What- Who-"

"I AM BOLDREI, GODDESS OF HOME. I HAVE COME TO YOU, BALDRIN, WITH A MISSION OF UTMOST IMPORTANCE. I HAVE CHOSEN YOU AS MY AGENT IN THIS MATTER."

"Look, y-you have the wrong person," his eyes watered at the burning light before him. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not-"

"SILENCE." The voice boomed at him as he felt a wave of heat blast over him. "I KNOW EXACTLY WHO YOU ARE BALDRIN. I SAW WHERE YOUR JOURNEY BEGAN IN THAT MOUNTAIN PASS. I HAVE SEEN ALL YOU HAVE DONE FOR THE PEOPLE OF THIS TOWN. BUT SANCTUARY IS IN MORE DANGER THAN IT HAS EVER BEEN. IF YOU WISH TO PROTECT THIS TOWN AND ALL WHO CALL IT HOME, YOU MUST LEAVE IT."

"But what can I do? How can I-"

The spears of light seemed to extend toward him and around him. "THIRTY YEARS AGO, YOU MADE AN OATH TO SANCTUARY. THAT OATH CAN GRANT YOU POWER, SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT." A mote of light sparked to life in the center of Baldrin's vision. He hesitated, before bringing his hand out to reach for it. As he touched it the radiant spears converged, piercing his body. His body arched backwards, wracked with the sensation.

LISTEN CLOSELY," Boldrei said, "LEAVE TONIGHT, AND FOLLOW MY INSTRUCTIONS. AT THE END YOU WILL FIND THE KEY TO YOUR TOWN'S SALVATION."

-30 YEARS AGO-

Baldrin stoked the campfire carefully, adjusting the logs just so to allow the fire to breathe. It had been an arduous task to carry both their supplies and the firewood up to the rocky outcropping, and neither of them wanted to clamber down to find more.

Baldrin looked up to see his traveling companion, a dwarven shieldmaiden, had already removed her boots and had begun to inspect her gear for maintenance.

"Ah, Gidenn! Already finished setting up out tent?"

Gidenn nodded over to the tent, a canvas cover set up between two rocks. "I made sure it was out of sight of the path. Should be safe and cozy, unless it rains."

Baldrin grinned and stared up at the clear sky, "No chance of that it looks like."

Gidenn stared at him, then up at the sky as well. "Must be strange for you to always have the sky above you. You dwarves are used to having a cave roof always above you, right?"

Baldrin shrugged, "it's something I could get used to. Personally, I think it's more beautiful than any geode we had back home. Grander, too."

Gidenn pondered this for as second. "Hmm, that's a nice way of thinking about it. So... where's our next stop?"

Baldrin sat down on a rock across the fire from Gidenn, and adjusted his feet to warm them by the fire. "We're almost at our final destination actually. Maybe a day or two away from Ardua."

"Ardua? Never heard of it." She began to buff her shield.

"Well, it's pretty recent, as far as I know. It's actually not really a village, more of a camp I believe."

"Huh. Why there? You always talk about doing good and helping people. Why not do that in a place like Fairhaven or Lathleer?"

Baldrin sighed, "There's only so much you can do in a city like Fairhaven. Crime, corruption, the enforcement of unjust laws. It's hard to push against those things when they come down on good people. Those aren't the kinds of things you can fix in a century, or even a lifetime. But Ardua is a refugee camp, small, but growing day by day. That's the kind of place where you can start at the foundations, where you can impact peoples' everyday lives for the better. Here, look at this."

He pulled out a small roll of parchment from his breastpocket, unfurled it, and handed it to Gidenn. "I have plans for Ardua. I want to make this a place I can call home, that anyone can call home. When people hear the name 'Ardua', I want them to think of it as a sanctuary, as- as a place people can live freely. Where people like you can live as whoever you want to be, without living in secret or in fear."

Gidenn looked over the parchment, scribbled full with potential laws and proclamations, and filled to the brim with hopes and dreams. She handed it back to him. "A noble goal indeed," She said plainly, "I'm happy to be beside you for it."

Morning came, and Gidenn and Baldrin set out shortly after breaking camp. The morning mist clung heavily to the mountain path, and the two of them made good time despite the treacherous terrain. The path had been abandoned centuries ago, but that hardly stopped either of them as they made their way along precarious stepping stones and under narrow overhangs. They eventually found a broader path along the cliffside that appeared frequented by mountain goats and followed that for a bit.

Gidenn was following one such path when she heard a loud noise overhead. Before she could even look up she heard Baldrin shout behind her "Look out!" and felt herself shoved violently forward. As her face slammed into the path in front of her a crashing cacophony of stone exploded behind her. She pulled herself up and swiveled around to see the path behind her covered in jagged shards of rock, some over four times her size.

Gidenn stared in shock. "Baldrin!" she called out. "Oh shit oh no Berronar please-" She scrambled forward, dropping her pack and shield on the ground and began moving the smaller stones. "Baldrin!" she shouted again, pushing another rock over the edge. She rolled one boulder behind her and found him lying on his stomach, groaning weakly. His entire lower torso was covered beneath one of the larger rocks.

"Baldrin, grab my hand!" Without waiting she siezed both his hands and began pulling him backwards. He didn't budge, and as she pulled his grunting turned into a scream of pain. She let go and slammed into the rock pushing with all her might. It too, wouldn't budge.

Baldrin grabbed her ankle, "Gidenn, it's okay. I-"

"It's NOT okay!" Gidenn heard herself screaming but she couldn't control herself. She dropped to her knees beside him, tears streaming down her face and began babbling, "A-Ardua's just a day away you said, right? I'll- I'll- I'll run there and bring some people back and maybe they have a priest or a doctor and they can heal you and-"

"I'm not going to... make it that long." Baldrin had to speak between ragged breaths. Blood started to pool around his stomach. He reached up and clasped her hand in his. He stared up at her eyes and swallowed. "Listen-"

"No please, don't" she whispered, trying to choke back tears.

"Listen!" he repeated, his eyes unfocusing as if he was losing his sight. "No matter who... you decide... to be... I know... I know... you'll be great." His head lowered slowly until it was resting on the cool stone, his breaths becoming shallower and shallower. His hand began to slip from hers and she grabbed it with her other hand, gripping it tightly in a trembling fist.

She knelt there for what seemed like hours, clutching his hand. When she stood up the mist had almost cleared up, and the sun had begun to spread its warmth across the mountain range. She stood awhile there, feeling the warm sun and the cool breeze on her face drying her tears. She stared at the small body beside her and, muttering a dwarven prayer for the dead she had learned, bent down to retrieve the parchment from his chest pocket. She stood back up, gripping the paper tightly in her hand and closed her eyes.

As she stood there, the scars on her face began to fade. The muscles on her arms softened, then settled into a slight flabbiness as the rest of her shrunk ever so slightly. Her coarse sideburns began to smooth out and were joined by more hair sprouting on the rest of her lower face, as it weaved itself into a simple braid.

Baldrin opened his eyes, still clutching the paper. His tears had almost nearly dried by now. He looked down at the body beside him one last time, then began to work covering the body with rocks in some semblance of a burial, the best he could do. Then, retrieving his shield and pack, he continued on down the path, towards Ardua.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #story #long post

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