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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

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December Contest Submission #12: Candles and Blankets

words: ca. 4,500 setting: mAU, candle shop AU lemon: not really cw: (SPOILER) fire, depression

Have you ever fallen in love with the gorgeous fiber artist across the street but she’s a really kind person and you aren’t sure if she’s into you or just being courteous, so you invite her to a romantic candlelit dinner for your own birthday in the back of your own candle shop?

Hey there.

My name is Anna, and …my life? Is pretty crazy.

I guess you could say the stars aligned for Elsa and I to meet.

It was a Tuesday.

New moon, new beginnings.

The sky was brightening with the dawn as I twisted my key around in the tricky lock. I really needed to call a locksmith soon, but I wasn’t sure if my business insurance covered new locks. Fires and floods, come at me; but an inconvenient lock… I probably wasn’t so lucky.

After a minute I finally heard the heavy click as my ears also noticed the sound of a car pulling up behind me. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, but instead of turning right around, I cautiously used the glass store windows to take a peek.

My shoulders relaxed. A blonde woman my age was behind the wheel.

I pretended to struggle even more with my key until I heard her get out of her vehicle. Then, I spun around with a smile on my face too bright for the hour.

“Good morning!” I greeted her. As she stepped into view to pay the meter, I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows. You would’ve done the same if the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen just parked in front of your candle shop at 6:30 AM in the middle of October.

“Hi,” she smiled gently. I’d never seen eyes such an icy blue give off so much warmth on a chilly fall morning. She glanced up at my sign, ‘Anna’s Awesome Aromas,’ and her smile brightened. “Oh! Do you sell candles here?”

A little confused how she parked right in front of a shop she didn’t know sold candles, but not one to judge, I answered, “Yes! I make them and sell them. In fact, I’m Anna herself.” I offered my hand out to shake.

She leaned forward to shake with a cold hand and then gestured across the street at the vacant shop building. “I’m here to look at the building for lease. Nice to meet you! My name is Elsa.”

“Elsa! Wow!” This woman was flawless right down to the name. “Wait, you’re looking into Kristoff’s old place? Sweet, what’s your business?”

“Oh,” she nervously reached a hand behind her neck. “I just make blankets.”

“Just? That’s amazing! Do you knit?” I wasn’t about to let this stranger downplay her talents.

“I, um, knit, crochet, quilt, design fleece patterns, and mess with a few other styles every once in a while.”

“Wow, so you can do everything! That is so cool, Elsa. Seriously.”

Her cheeks were turning magenta. “I still have a lot to learn. I’d love to see your candle shop!” She said, deflecting the attention from herself. “Maybe after the realtor and I do our walkthrough I could take a look inside?”

“Absolutely!” I nodded. “In fact, if you’re done around lunch time, come on in and I’ll share my lasagna with you in the back. I brought enough for a small army.”

The way she smiled at me, crinkling her eyes, before she turned and walked across the street had my insides feeling… cozy. Comfortable.

Safe.

——————————

That Christmas was the best I’d had in a long time. Elsa had set up her blanket shop in early November, and we became fast friends. I never ate another lunch alone - we alternated between her office and mine, always able to keep an eye on whichever shop was unattended across the street.

December was a busy sales month for us both, with lots of customers needing candles and blankets to warm themselves and their loved ones in the cold holiday season. For that reason, I cherished our lunches as the only time we had to get to know each other as new friends. We both worked long days keeping our shops running smoothly and churning out new products in our evenings, often late into the night.

Neither of us had any employees, even a business partner, let alone a life partner; so sharing lunch with a like-minded and equally hardworking woman was honestly life changing.

The week leading up to Christmas was so busy with last-minute-gift shoppers, we called off our lunches to keep our shops open every precious minute. In a stroke of luck, Christmas fell on a Sunday, so we both closed up shop for the whole weekend, giving ourselves a true holiday.

Naturally, we spent it together. After convincing her she wouldn’t be intruding, Elsa came over to my apartment on Christmas Eve and we relaxed all day with no talk of businesses. She spent the night on my couch and our Christmas Day was filled with lazy cooking and laughter.

She gifted me a beautiful tree skirt that she knit especially for me with stripes featuring all my favorite blankets she’d made. For Elsa, I made a candle with ten different layers, because she was always saying her favorite scent was my whole shop, with all my aromas melding together.

“I can’t believe we gave each other the same thing!” She had laughed.

“It’s perfect,” I was grinning wider than I had in years. “We’re perfect,” I wanted to add.

—————————————

It’s amazing how something as simple as having a friend can make time fly by. As winter melted into spring, both Elsa and I were entering our “off season,” as people no longer craved the warmth our products provided. Even so, the days didn’t drag on.

I still lunched with Elsa every day and we never ran out of things to talk about, from crazy customer stories, to new products we’ve tried to create, to old childhood memories. There was always more to learn about each other, even after I thought Elsa might know me better than I knew myself.

But then there was the concern: did she know me well enough to figure out I had an enormous, ever-growing crush on her? And did I know her well enough to figure out if she might feel the same?

That was my main source of anguish as the weather turned as warm as my three wick candles.

Every day I sat with Elsa as she ate her chicken caesar salads or Taco Bell (there was no in between), and I ate my peanut butter sandwiches, or Campbell’s soup. And every day I’d stare at her light shining hair and blushed cheeks, as she smiled sweetly and laughed at all my jokes with a sound more gorgeous than fucking wind chimes. And every day I could feel myself falling further.

I used to live and breathe for my candle shop; I woke up with a purpose to create new scents and gorgeous colors, experimenting with different types of wax. It was usually what I dreamed about.

Now… I was dreaming about Elsa. I was waking up excited, not about how many candles I might sell that day, but how many times I might make Elsa laugh during lunch. Will she flash me that look, the one where her eyes sparkle and the corner of her mouth smiles, making it look just for a second that she had glimpsed my soul - and liked what she saw?

I just didn’t know what to make of it, because Elsa was too nice. She seemed to interact with everyone the way she interacted with me. Granted, nobody else got to spend lunch with her everyday, or talk about our small businesses together, or drop by to visit on our rare days off. But how was I supposed to find out if she was romantically into me without risking everything good that had come into both of our lives?

It was June when I had the idea. My birthday was coming up the following month, so why not plan something special? Something …romantic? Then if there was anything to blossom between us, it would have the perfect environment to happen without forcing anything or asking potentially devastating questions.

Perfect!

It wasn’t hard to plan out once I had the idea. I chose the restaurant I’d be ordering out from, and easily convinced Elsa to come over to my shop after we both closed.

I was wearing my favorite green summer dress - the flowy one with pockets - and kept my hair down for a change. At the stroke of 7 I closed up and headed out to pick up the dinner and suddenly it hit me. Was it weird to plan and host my own birthday dinner? A birthday dinner for only me and the girl I was in love with?

Well, it was too fucking late, if so. I came back with the food and spent the next half hour setting up a table with nice place settings and lighting my sexiest scented candles all around my office and store. As the sun set, eight o’clock rolled around and Elsa closed up her shop, too.

As I watched her delicately make her way to my side of the street, I chewed my lip. Here goes… everything.

I came to my shop door to let her in as she approached my dimly lit building, and was stunned by how beautiful she looked. She was wearing a shiny blue sleeveless top and tight white capris, with heels to match her blouse and the kicker - a white bow tie hanging untied around her neck. Her wavy hair was gently bouncing around her shoulders with each step. I opened the door for her and the bell above jingled loudly.

She beamed when she saw me, stepping inside to set down her leather backpack purse and white gift bag to give me a big hug. “Happy birthday, Anna,” she said softly into my shoulder.

“Thanks, Els,” I squeezed back, breathing in her perfume. It was my favorite scent, one I’d never quite been able to replicate at home - something between the ocean breeze and a floral woodland meadow.

As we pulled apart I glanced down her outfit one more time, “You look incredible.”

“So do you! And well, you said to dress nice, so… that’s what I’ve got,” Elsa laughed nervously.

“It’s perfect. So!” I clapped my hands together, “Shall we head to the back?”

“After you, lovely,” Elsa grinned and picked up her two bags again. As we walked she began to notice the candlelit atmosphere. “This is really something, Anna. You went through all this trouble just for the two of us?”

I winced. This was a weird thing to do… Play it cool. “Oh, it wasn’t much trouble at all! I thought we deserved something nice. Something special.”

“We do! Especially you, Anna. You work so hard.”

“Not as hard as you,” I countered, as we stepped into my cozy office. My desk was in the corner by the window-wall facing out to the street, and in the front area by the couch we usually ate our lunches on, I had set up our small dining experience.

The only light was from all the candles I had placed around the room; a few were on the little table itself, which also held our take out dinner that I already plated up.

“Wow!” Elsa was standing wide-eyed behind me, a huge smile creeping onto her face. “This is — it’s incredible. Did you get Romeo’s?” She recognized the food from the local fancy Italian restaurant.

“Bone apple teeth!” I grinned. “Shall we eat, before it gets any colder?” I said, gesturing to a chair.

As we settled in to eat, my racing heart calmed a little. This felt right, it felt like us, sharing a meal like we did every day. Just… fancy.

“I’m thankful you got me Alfredo,” Elsa said a few minutes into our meal. “Or my white pants may never be the same.”

“Oh man!” I said with spaghetti hanging out my mouth, “That was a lucky guess. Imagine if I made you get tomato sauce on your pants!”

Elsa laughed. “I imagine I’ll be taking them off.”

“What?”

“Um, I said I imagine I would be taking them off. If I stained them.” A blush was forming on Elsa’s cheeks.

I felt my face warming too, wondering if Elsa had meant what she had first implied. Then, Elsa set her fork down and took a deep breath.

“No, you know what,” she said, looking me intensely in the eye. “You went out on a limb here with this dinner, and so will I. Anna, I really like you.”

Was I supposed to hear the blood rushing past my eardrums?

“Everything has been better since you came into my life - or since I came into yours, whichever way you want to think of it.” Elsa smiled sincerely, “I didn’t realize what was happening right away, but I’ve known for a while now that I’m just - just helplessly in love with you.” Her gaze shifted down to the table as she kept talking, “It’s hard to pretend that I can keep my cool around you when all I feel is the warmth of friendship, of …love. Of something deeper. Something I’ve never felt before, and I’d never want to feel with anyone who isn’t you.”

She cleared her throat and looked me in the eye once more, “So, if this dinner was your way of saying you might share some of those feelings for me too… first of all, at this point I fuckin hope it was; and secondly… that was it, I can’t remember…”

By the time Elsa had trailed off her words, I was next to her chair, cupping her face with my hands. “Can I kiss you?”

She touched one of my hands, holding it to her cheek as she stood up. Taking a step away from the table, Elsa slid her other hand behind my waist. There was a moment we just looked into each other’s eyes as the pull between us became stronger. “Please,” was all she whispered before our lips came together like the pages of a closing book.

I had never kissed anyone - I had… no idea it could be like this. Her lips were so soft as they moved with mine, and it felt like they were asking permission with each caress. A small tear escaped one of my closed eyes.

I felt so emotional as she ran her fingers through my hair, stroking my scalp. She - Elsa, she wanted me, too. She loved me, too. And I realized I hadn’t actually said that yet — I pulled away suddenly and watched her open her eyes in surprise.

“I love you, Elsa.”

She smiled in relief.

I rested my forehead against hers, standing on my tiptoes to reach. “I just wanted to make that clear.”

***

We did not finish our meal.

The folding chairs sat forgotten as I laid Elsa down on the nearby couch and straddled her hips as we both reached for clothes we no longer wished to wear. I took a second to be grateful for the partial wall that blocked the couch from the view of anyone passing by the shop’s windows.

Elsa tugged on one end of her bow tie and it slipped out from behind her neck in one fluid motion - probably the sexiest move I’ve ever seen.

As I lifted my dress above my head, Elsa was gazing up at me, hypnotized. I let the dress fall to the floor beside us. “You’re falling a bit behind, love.” All she had taken off was her tie, and I already sat in my under garments.

She reached for the bottom of her blouse. “One advantage to dresses I suppose,” Elsa said. “If you’re into that.” She sat up a little to whip the shirt off, exposing a black sports bra.

“God, how are you so hot?” I didn’t let Elsa answer before leaning down to kiss her again. I reverently felt her soft skin as I ran my palms over her sides and found the small of her back. “I’ve, er, never done this before.”

Elsa gave a slight squeeze to my hips. “Me neither. It’s ok. We can figure it out together, but I’m probably gonna need to take my pants off first.”

I laughed, “Alright, I’ll get up.” When I planted a foot on the floor and stood up, I paused. I took another breath through my nose. “What’s that smell…?”

Elsa looked at me. She sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”

I turned to the doorway leading into the hallway to the store. An orange glow far too bright made my heart drop and my stomach fill with dread.

“On second thought, keep your pants on.” I grabbed Elsa’s top, threw it at her, and grabbed my dress, pulling it on haphazardly. I ran to the doorway and stopped when I saw how big the fire was in my shop. It looked like everything was engulfed in flames. Nothing could be saved from there. Oh my god.

Pop!

Pop pop!

Candles on my shelves were exploding. Oh god oh god oh god.

“We gotta get outta here!” I slammed the office door shut to hold off the blazing heat of the main store’s fire, trapping us in my office. I ran to the wall of windows by my desk, grateful there was no second floor.

Elsa met me at the wall with her bags. “Can we send this through the windows?” She pointed at my filing cabinet.

Together we pushed the metal cabinet to the window wall and then heaved our combined body weight into it, sending it crashing through the panes. Shards of glass rained down on us, but only a few pieces were sharp enough to cut. The cabinet toppled over onto the pavement outside.

I pushed out a few extra pieces of glass to make way for us to squeeze through. After I got out I helped Elsa climb in her heels, over the filing cabinet out onto the sidewalk. Together we pulled it farther away from the building.

“You call 911 and stay back from here,” I yelled as I ran back to the broken glass. “I have to get a few more things.”

Elsa looked terrified as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and took more steps backward into the deserted street. Turning toward my shop, my hand shook as I reached forward, crouching through my broken window, back into my smoldering office.

The room was starting to fill with smoke and almost constant candle explosions could be heard through the wall. I decided the most important things to get out first were my computers. I grabbed my laptop and quickly unplugged everything from the desktop computer tower. I didn’t need the keyboard or monitor.

Stifling a cough, I crouched through the glass and carried the computers to the curb. As soon as they were down safely, I turned and ran back in.

I couldn’t help but cough this time. Soon the door holding back the inferno would bust - or maybe the shared wall would be engulfed first. Either way, I was running out of time. The air was so, so hot.

One of the candles across the room burst. A searing hot glass shard lodged itself in my arm, near my elbow. I screamed, brushing it away, and the scream turned quickly to more coughing and sputtering.

Through the attack on my lungs, I grabbed everything I could hold off my desk - my purse included, and made my way out as fast as I could.

As I climbed out onto the sidewalk, I felt the office door behind me blow out. In the split second I had, I hurled everything I was carrying as far out as I could and then threw myself to the side in an attempted barrel roll just as the fireball rolled out and licked at my heels.

I sputtered and coughed on the ground as Elsa sprinted over to me. She grabbed a flat piece of debris and swatted at the edge of my dress that had caught fire. Once it was out, she lifted me over her shoulder and took me over to her building where she had been taking the items I rescued from my office.

Setting me down gently, she kept my hand in hers. “They’re on their way.”

My coughing still wouldn’t let up but I couldn’t actually feel my aching lungs anymore, or even the searing gash in my arm, as I sat on the concrete, numbly watching my store go down in flames.

Watching everything I worked for burn away.

———————————————

I didn’t notice August.

They held me at the hospital for two days for the smoke inhalation, my burn wound, and other minor cuts. Then I was released and I sat in my apartment.

I didn’t have a job to go to. My work was gone.

The insurance claim was going to take 90-120 days to go through but they assured me I would be covered for the total loss. So I wouldn’t go into massive debt, but I still mourned. I had no business, no product, no motivation.

So I sat.

I threw out all the candles in my home.

Maybe it was anger, maybe it was guilt, but it most definitely was fear. I never wanted to see another candle again in my life. The destruction they caused - my own creations did this to me. My own negligence. My own lust.

I had also shut Elsa out.

I knew it wasn’t fair to her but I couldn’t even think about her without reliving the terror of the fire. I just couldn’t handle seeing her… so I said I needed space, I needed time to recover alone.

It’s been over a month though, and while the pain still hasn’t gone away, now loneliness has joined it in my torment.

I missed Elsa so much it hurt. And not even in the we-didn’t-even-get-to-have-sex way; I missed my friend.

A week into September, Elsa begged me to come to her apartment. She said she just needed to see I was ok, just needed to talk.

It wasn’t a hard decision with the way I felt like I was dying without her in my life. But I needed her to initiate it or my guilt never would’ve allowed me the opportunity. So I went.

I couldn’t bring myself to change out of the sweats I’d been wearing for at least a week, but I managed to put on deodorant. My hair was pulled into the cleanest messy bun I could muster. It would probably be the bags under my eyes that she would comment on first. The two main subjects of my dreams were now either nightmare fuel or guilt trips, so I had barely been sleeping.

The biggest surprise to me when I met her outside were the matching bags under Elsa’s eyes.

As I walked to her she met me halfway with a warm hug. I saw the look of mixed relief and concern on her face as she took in my appearance.

“Anna,” she whispered as she held me close.

I drew in a shaky breath. “Els,” my reply was like a reflex and I melted into her embrace. With a little sadness I noticed she wasn’t wearing her perfume, but everything else about the hug was all that I had been craving.

“Come on,” she led me into her apartment.

It wasn’t hard to tell I wasn’t doing ok, and neither was she for that matter, so the question was never brought up. Instead she made me tea and held me on the couch, murmuring soft things like, “I’ll keep you warm.”

When I was calm from the tea, Elsa went to get something from another room. She returned with the white gift bag from my birthday, though it might have been replaced with a new gift bag, given how pristine it still looked.

“I still want you to have this, Anna,” she said softly. “But first let me tell you about an idea I’ve had. I just want you to listen to it, no need to respond right away.”

I nodded.

She sat back down with me. Her voice never raised above a light trickling of a fountain as she spoke, “I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been going through. But I do know what trauma feels like. So I have a clue about what you may be feeling toward what you used to do; what you used to love doing now feels painful. Maybe even terrifying…”

Elsa took my hand in hers. “I got this idea a couple weeks ago when I accidentally dropped my bottle of perfume into your gift bag.” She chuckled grimly. “It all spilled out and your present soaked it up.”

She reached down into the bag and turned her head to me, “Would you mind closing your eyes?”

I closed them.

With a soft whoosh, a thin, but nicely heavy blanket settled onto me. As I breathed through my nose, suddenly a wave of familiar comfort washed over me. Her perfume was scenting the whole blanket. I wanted to cry. “Elsa,” I whispered, my hands shaking.

She rubbed my leg through the fabric. “I know, sweetheart,” Elsa sat back into the couch, cuddled close to me and I kept my eyes closed as she continued to talk. “After that happened, I thought… nobody really does this. Creating scented oils just for the purpose of dripping onto fabric like blankets for an extra comforting experience. Like I know essential oils exist, but that’s just the beginning of the potential you would have if you, say… wanted to become my business partner, to create scent drops for my blankets…”

She trailed off and let that sit there with me to think about. I felt the same revelation she probably experienced coming up with the plan. “Elsa,” I said with my eyes still closed. “That’s brilliant. When I’m ready… I would love that.”

I felt her sigh with relief. “Can I see the blanket now?” I asked.

She sat upright, “Here let me hold it up for you to see. It might bring up some emotion. I swear I had no idea what was going to happen when I was making it…”

The blanket was lifted off of me. I slowly opened my eyes to see… a perfect image of my shop in all her glory, hand stitched and glowing softly yellow through the windows. Around the edges of the blanket were the words, “Anna’s Awesome Aromas,” repeated in a pattern. I sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said, gathering up the blanket. “It’s too soon, I shouldn’t hav—“

“Stop,” I said while tears dripped down my face. “It’s perfect,” I stood up and flung myself into her arms, making the blanket fall to the floor at our feet.

“You’re not upset?” she asked.

“I’m only upset that I shut you out for so long. I’m sorry,” I held her tight. “You are everything I need, how could I not see that?”

“It’s ok,” Elsa kissed my forehead. “Some things aren’t meant to be seen; they have to be felt, or smelled, maybe tasted.”

With a gentle kiss, she began my healing.

#elsanna #submission #december 2020 contest #prompt: warmth #cw: fire #cw: depression

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spiteweaver · 6 years

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Almost an eon had passed since Rebis and Apokathisto’s ill-fated journey to the Starfall Isles. As Junior touched down at the base of the Observatory, he shuddered in response to the lingering magic of the Circle--and of whatever it was Rebis had carried with her through space-time. What he felt then was just one more reason he should not have been there.

It would have been impossible to explain to the founders. Zo may have understood, but he would have surely protested regardless. With their wedding date drawing nearer by the day, and the turmoil of the past eon weighing heavily on their minds, he had grown more protective of Junior and Jorah than ever. Junior wished he could have respected that; he would have given anything to be home in his fiance’s arms.

But how could he ignore a Call?

Scholars had likened Calls to the pull of a Guardian toward their Charge. They were the magic of Sornieth itself, or so it was believed, seeking aid from the peoples it had birthed. Rare and powerful phenomena, a dragon could not refuse them; when one received a Call, one answered.

Junior’s had manifested as an innate knowing, of where he must go and what he must do when he got there. He had awoken on the day following Rebis and Apokathisto’s return with an idea in his head, and he had not known peace since. When even the archives’ vast trove of knowledge had failed to provide, he had made good his flight to the Isles under cover of night.

Somewhere beneath the Observatory, there was a sickness, and he was the only one who could cure it.

Why him? He could not say. Surely Lutia or Crucis would have been better suited to such a delicate task. His magic was powerful, but it was unpredictable. If he lost his head for even a moment, for any reason, the clans would have more on their hands than a time-slipping Fae--like a smoldering crater where the Crystalspines had once stood.

Pulling his coat more tightly around him, and despite his reservations, Junior began the long ascent to the Focal Point’s peak. Even in the dead of summer, the Observatory steps were cold, only growing more so the higher Junior climbed. Eventually, he passed beyond the influence of the Circle, into the oppressive sphere of the Arcanist’s domain. There was a buzz at the back of his skull, but he dismissed it as an effect of the chaotic magic of the Isles.

...TOP...

Junior paused on the final step, cocking his head. The Observatory was still and silent, its doors sealed with faintly-glowing magic. He grit his teeth against the incessant buzzing; it was becoming painful, making his vision blur. Dismissing it again, he strode forward.

Head bowed, he placed his palm flat against the doors. Their magic hummed beneath his fingers. “Hi, Fragment, Sliver,” he murmured, his breath frosting in front of his face, “and the scion, too. Starfall Celebration is right around the corner. Aba misses you so much. I...” He balled his free hand into a fist. “Telos is coming to be with you all,” he went on. “Fragment, I know you’ll be happy to see her. I keep thinking about how the two of you used to look at one another. It’s made saying goodbye easier, knowing you’ll get to hold her.”

...O...EAVE...ST...

Junior hissed. His ears were ringing, and there was an aching pressure behind his eyes. He pressed his forehead to the cool metal of the Observatory. Something was very wrong. This wasn’t the side-effect of errant magic. His head felt like it was splitting in two; a reaction this strong could only have been brought on by--

SHARD.

The Focal Point shook, bringing Junior to his knees. He retched onto the earth as a wave of potent Arcane magic rolled over him. Desperately, clutching his head, he reached for the Observatory doors. “Please,” he croaked, “Arcanus Majoris, I was Called here.”

YOU WERE FOOLED. GO, BEFORE YOU ARE LOST.

The small swell of pride Junior felt at being addressed by his deity turned immediately to panic. He stumbled to his feet, but fell back into the dirt gasping. His body seized; his senses failed. Images of the full moon, reflected upon black, placid waters, flooded his mind. Familiar voices crying out in anguish, the scent of home burning away to ashes. A Wildclaw dressed in white.

He hadn’t learned a damned thing.

Something dark stirred at the edge of his vision, which came back with a painful flash of pale pink light. The Observatory doors had been flung wide--and he was being dragged into them. “No!” he tried to plead, but the word came out as a feral shriek. The Arcanist reached for him through the Veil, His long fingers burning where they touched.

AS ALWAYS, YOU GIVE ME NOTHING BUT GRIEF. I MISS WHEN THE SHARDS WERE (RELATIVELY) WELL-BEHAVED. MY SISTER HAS INFLUENCED YOU ALL TOO GREATLY.

The darkness had begun to coalesce, taking the shape of a writhing lump. Then, with a cheery pop, two large, fuchsia eyes appeared on its oozing surface. They rolled comically in the goop for a moment before focusing on Junior. Help, he thought, please, whoever you are, help me!

With speed belying its form, the lump rushed forward. Its murky tendrils wrapped around Junior, coating him in a thick layer of disgusting slime. There was another flash, a crack like thunder, and the Arcanist withdrew.

YOU ALLOWED HIM INTO YOUR MIND? CAST HIM OUT, OR HE WILL CONSUME YOU.

“Begone, you irksome gnat.”

The Observatory doors slammed shut. Freed of the Arcanist’s binds, Junior went limp, his eyelids fluttering as he clung to consciousness. The lump had withdrawn as well, and now watched him with an almost uncomfortable attentiveness. It did not blink.

“Thank...” Junior coughed. Each breath he took was like swallowing needles. “Thank you,” he rasped. “You saved me.”

“What was that beast?” the lump inquired. Where it spoke from, Junior couldn’t say; it did not appear to possess a mouth. “It was very stubborn. My magic almost wasn’t enough to dismiss it.”

“Dis...?” Junior struggled into a sitting position. The lump drew itself up to remain level with him. “You dismissed Him?”

“Yes.”

“You dismissed the Arcanist?”

“If that is what the beast fashions itself,” the lump said, “then yes.”

Junior ran a trembling hand through his hair. There were many questions he had, for both the lump and Camellia, who knew the Arcanist more intimately than anyone, but all he could manage to blurt out, through a haze of bewilderment, was, “How did you dismiss a god from His own realm?”

The lump rippled. Junior got the feeling it was displeased. “That beast,” it said, “that Arcanist, is the god of these lands?”

“Yes,” Junior replied. “He’s one of the Eleven.”

“That cannot be so.”

Junior blinked slowly. Though the Arcanist no longer inhabited him, his head had yet to settle. It felt as though his brain were swimming in warm salt water. “Why not?” he asked.

“Because,” the lump said, “I govern the Starfall Isles.”

All at once, his mind was clear. He stared at the lump, dumbfounded, as he tried to parse out which hypothesis was most likely: dimensional travel or simple madness. Had he not currently been seated before the Observatory, he would have placed his bet on madness, but he knew all too well what the peculiar magicks of the Isles could do to a dragon.

So many possibilities...

The lump was displeased again. “I have not come from some far off place,” it said, “and I am not mad.”

“You...you can...?”

“You opened your mind to me,” the lump reminded. “In fact, I may be able to extract the information I need from you. This world--yes, I know its name. I was born into it through the machinations of another race, one you wear the likeness of. Yet, you are not they. No, you are draconic, my child. From me you were birthed. Surely this is known.”

“P-please don’t read my thoughts,” Junior requested meekly.

“I am no longer reading your thoughts,” the lump replied, “I am reading your memories.”

“Those are private!”

“Nothing is private to your god.”

“You’re not my god!”

The lump appeared taken aback--or as taken aback as something with no features could appear. Its body broiled, and Junior scrambled back as it doubled, tripled, quadrupled in size. There was a loud whistle, as of steam escaping a cracked pipe. The ooze fell away, dissipating into the earth, and...

The Fae was unlike anything Junior had ever seen. Easily as large as the most formidable Imperial, it possessed the many limbs of its progenitor--but with thrice as many eyes. Its scales were marked by brilliant magenta runes, pulsating as the magic around them twisted and warped. A flick of its tail sealed Junior’s escape; it fixed him once more in its unblinking gaze.

“What...?” Junior gulped. “What are you?”

“The Arcanist,” the Fae hissed, “I see now. I see what He has done, that beast, the Arcanist. While I lay sleeping beneath His feet, He stole my people from me. We were born of the same apocalypse, I the elder, and yet He claims sovereignty over my lands. Yes, I see. He fed me a delusion in my slumber, to pacify me. He took what is rightfully mine. It should have been me. It should have been me upon His throne.”

Junior’s voice caught in his throat, and the next moment he was screaming. He could feel the Fae inside his mind now, poking and prodding, searching for weakness. Its fingers were hot pokers against the soft tissue. He curled in on himself, beating his head against the ground until it bled, but the Fae did not relent.

“You are powerful,” it said, “but there is greater power in the eastern lands. Oh, He is cruel. He took them from you, and left you to suffer in their absence. I will return them; I will rip them from His grasp and return them to you, my vessel. Once I have taken the Seat, you will be with them. You have my word.”

@nostlenne @serthis-archivist @airris-fr @jaxxem (still won’t let me ping you) @reanimatedfr

#flight rising #fr #zach writes #clan feldspar #feldspar lore #c: junior #chapter: false prophet #it's all downhill from here lads

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

Text

Fast Forward: Part 6

Anonymous said: Love the updated COC and The Getaway! Thank you. I always look forward to your writing but these two are my current favorites! When will you post new chapters?

Thank you lovely Anon - I am onto the next part of both of those stories, but in the meantime, please have some FF <3 :: Mod MBD.

Jamie woke with a pinch in his spine and a crooked neck. Pushing himself up, he blinked his eyes open to find Claire with her hand wrapped around his. She was still fast asleep, still calm as far as he could tell. He smiled and squeezed her palm as he shifted his arse deeper into the cushion on the chair.

“It doesn’t hurt so much anymore,” Claire whispered as she writhed beneath the sheets. She kept her eyes closed but the moment Jamie’s warmth had left her side she’d awoken.

“Ye still need rest, Claire,” Jamie returned as he withdrew his hand from hers and tucked the sheets more tightly around her shoulders. “I’ll fetch you some porridge and maybe a cup of tea but ye need to stay inside for the moment. Until we’re sure you’re healing properly.”

“Alright,” Claire said, squeezing her eyes closed as she tried to doze off once more.

She listened as the door shut quietly behind Jamie before allowing herself to breath again. She’d slept well. It was the type of peaceful sleep that she’d been denied for a long while but now, left alone once more, Claire was more than a little worried about the nightmares and whether they would creep back in again.

Licking her lips, she blinked her eyes open and glanced around the room. Determined to remain positive, Claire didn’t want to fall asleep again and risk allowing her shaky past to penetrate her newly found calm. She’d been moved from the attic down into one of the other bedrooms. This one was beautifully decorated complete with a fully functioning fireplace. Rubbing her eyes, Claire sat up. Plucking the pillows from behind her, she plumped them and put one on top of the others before leaning backwards.

Tapping his fingers nervously against the marble countertop, Jamie waited for the milk to heat in the pan. Having the responsibility of another human life on his shoulders was something he hadn’t accounted for and it made him realise the types of decisions Jenny had to face every day. Jenny had gone off to work for the day, leaving Claire’s immediate care directly in his hands. He was used to the animals on the farm, but somehow, Claire seemed more fragile. It made his gut churn.

What if something else went wrong? Jenny had left strict instructions on Claire’s care with some of Ray’s medical herbs just in case it was necessary. But she hadn’t thought anything would go that horribly wrong in the twelve hours that she was away. Jamie wasn’t so certain and with Ian out of the city on business for a few days he was totally alone.

A strange thump from above made his head snap up and he removed the pan before darting for the guest bedroom. He thought about knocking before he opened the door, but worry coursed through him and he threw aside the idea and just barged his way in.

“Claire?” He questioned breathlessly, his fingers still poised over the handle of the door as his eyes took in every inch of the room.

She was huddled up the corner, her eyes, unseeing and glazed, focused on an old red dress that Jenny had been repairing that sat on a tailors dummy in the corner of the room.

“Claire,” he repeated, crawling over the bed to be closer to her, “what is it, lass?”

“He made me an offer,” she whispered, fear lacing her tone as she blinked rapidly, “before he took the whip to me again.”

Jamie’s heart missed a beat. She’d barely spoken of her ordeal and, although he’d been curious, he hadn’t asked - understanding her reticence to discuss such a terrifying experience. Gripped as she was in the memories of it, Jamie swallowed back his reserve at hearing the tale. If Claire needed to offload, he would be there for her.

“He isna here now though, is he Claire? You’re safe.”

Claire shook her head and pulled her knees up to her chest, her eyes still facing forwards.

“So,” Jamie continued, watching as tears gathered in her eyes, “he beat ye *more than once*?”

“Just twice,” she returned, her knuckles going white over her knees as she gripped herself tighter.

“Fuck…” Jamie cursed under his breath, “just twice?” He spat, a huge emphasis on the ‘just’. “How many times, Claire?” The question came before he’d had chance to think about whether he really wanted to know the answer. He’d seen the evidence of the flogging, the deep gashes still burned into his retinas...

“Two hundred in total. The first hundred were a warning....”

Jamie couldn’t take the look of sheer horror on her face any longer and he stepped around the bed, took her in his arms - gently trying not to jostle her back - and carried her down to the lounge. The dress was obviously significant, that was clear, and if he wanted her to calm down, he knew he needed to get her somewhere that she couldn’t see it.

“One hundred lashes isna a warning, Claire. It’s a death sentence.” He sighed, grabbing a tissue and dabbing away her fallen tears.

Claire rolled her shoulders, a tempered squeak falling from her pursed lips as the scabs that half covered her healing back pulled against her fragile skin. “It was *his* type of warning,” she managed to finally reply a shudder in her voice as she tried to desperately keep her composure. “But if I had died --well, I don’t think it would have pained him overly.”

“Claire--” Jamie reached his hand out again, this time running his fingers gently through her loose curls, moving them from her forehead before bringing his palm under her chin. He stumbled, wanting to finish his sentence but, unable to come up with the right words to soothe her, just sat facing her, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish.

Claire smiled, a small shaky thing that ignited a beautiful reflection in her glimmering whisky eyes. Jamie smiled in return, his fingers twitching softly against the smooth skin of her chin as she sighed and relaxed once more.

“...but you didna wish to avoid the lash?” Jamie questioned, remembering her words just a few moments before. “If he offered you another way, was that no’ better?”

A dark look passed over Claire’s face and she jerked back a little way, the hollow of her throat trembling a little as she squared her shoulders. “No. It wasn’t a reprieve at all, really. Nothing he could have offered me in return would have involved less pain than a second flogging.”

Jamie balked. Having seen war, famine...death, he still couldn’t envisage what could have been worse for her than the scalding pressure of taut rope and lead cutting into her delicate flesh. But the look in her eyes told him that it would have been, and from the memories of the state of her back, he believed it.

“It was the dress,” she continued, her head tilting upwards to glance at the room above where they’d been only moments before. “I was in a room, not paying much notice to anything at the time -given the state I was in- when he came in, flanked by his guards.”

Jamie, seeking to offer her comfort in any way he could, shimmied himself so that Claire could curl up at his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as her head laid gently against his chest. She sighed, her legs curling up underneath her and she settled herself.

“One of them had this...this -gown- in his arms. It was bright red, that’s all I can really remember of it. But the implication was clear.” Claire swallowed, bile rising along the back of her throat as his cold words -brought to life by her blurry memories once more- echoed in her ears.

She shook, the pressure of her aches pushing down on her as she laid on her side in the narrow prison cot. The steady dripping of the water that fell through the cracks of the ancient cell kept her awake as cold and damp penetrated every inch of her.

“Have you seen sense yet?” The cruel voice barked over the creaking of the door as it slammed open.

Footsteps sloshed towards her, the leather boots soaking into the moisture that pooled on the prison floor. Claire tried to focus on anything other than the increased throbbing agony that tore through her back and sides, but she desperately wanted to un-hear *his* words.

She could still see the dress hanging and swaying like a corpse at the noose, the image of its magenta cloth billowing in the subtle breeze from where he’d left it the night before. She had no doubt that he’d arranged it that way, left to hang as she would be mere days from now - a warning; a message.

Claire inhaled a painful breath, her fingers gripping tightly at the wooden base of the bed and she squeezed her eyes closed. “No,” she whispered, her chapped, dry lips barely functioning to say the words as her dreams from the previous evening danced behind her closed lids.

Randall laughed. The tenor of it vibrated through the floor and up into Claire’s bones as she tried not to cry out. She couldn’t let him see her anguish. She would *not*.

“No?” He retorted, a sneer in his voice as he took one measured step towards her. “Part of me is glad, Claire,” he continued, his hand reaching down to hover over Claire’s matted, soaked hair as he almost traced every inch of her fevered body. “It wouldn’t have been that much fun had you just accepted my offer. Now I get to coax it from your flesh.”

Stepping back once more, Claire remained curled up, her eyes closed but her ears open as she listened to his every movement.

“I will have your surrender, Claire,” he taunted, an icy calm coating his words. “Before you leave this world...one way or another.”

Jamie hadn’t moved as Claire had told her story, his blood had frozen in his veins upon hearing the words spoken aloud. The insinuation was clear, and she had been right to decline him -though what it had led to had not been pleasant, but it had avoided her immediate violation at the hands of her captor.

“He meant to--?”

“Yes,” Claire broke in quickly, not ready to hear the words yet. “But he didn’t,” she sighed. Her escape had certainly ensured that Randall wasn’t able to complete on his -offer-.

“Jesus...fuck,” Jamie cursed, an unimaginable sadness coating him as he rocked Claire closer to him. “You’re safe now though, Claire,” he whispered, “I’ll have Jenny move her sewing project out of that room -it’s yours now, the space I mean,” he continued, moving away from the dark topic of Claire’s past. “It has an ensuite bathroom which means you’ll have privacy at all times.”

“You don’t need to do that for me,” Claire said, hiding her face in the fabric of Jamie’s shirt.

“Dinna be daft, Claire,” he admonished playfully. “Yer a Fraser now, whether you like it or not. You have our protection, aye? And wi’ that comes a place of your own...if you’d like?” Suddenly aware that he’d assumed Claire wanted to stay, Jamie backtracked a little, offering her a choice should she not wish to stay with him, Jenny and Ian.

“You’re too kind, Jamie,” Claire returned as her heart lightened at his wonderful offer. Having found some manner of comfort, she hadn’t even contemplated her future or whether she would be able to stay. But Jamie and Jenny were incredibly generous. “I’ll never be able to repay you…”

“Och, aye. Ye will, Claire,” Jamie said, smiling. “Our friend Ray,” he forged on, glossing over the fact that him and Raymond were only tentatively friends (for the moment), “he’s the one who helped with yer back, ken?”

Claire nodded, her fingers tracing the patterns of the sewn linens of the shirt Jamie was wearing.

“Weel, he owns an old apothecary in Inverness. He told Jenny afore he left the other day that he has a place there, a job for you, should you wish it…” he trailed off, leaving that offer open ended.

But Claire’s eyes were wide with pleasure as she saw a whole new array of possibilities that tied her to a new path. “Really?” She whispered breathlessly. “A job? For me…”

“Aye, Claire,” Jamie said, pulling the throw from the sofa to wrap around them both as Claire nuzzled against him. “Your place is here now, here at Lallybroch.”

#Anonymous #ask #Fast Forward #Jamie X Claire #18th C Claire #20th C Jamie #;Mod MBD

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