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peiskos-and-apricity · 1 year

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Fated to Fall ~ Sindri x Reader [Pt 1]

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Summary: The hand of fate was a cruel thing. It followed everyone who traveled through the realms, from tragic beginnings to horrific ends. Some people sought to embrace it, while others tried to flee from it, but its permanence was undeniable.

Yet as you stood reflecting on a previous life that now seemed so far and a future that appeared all but definite, you couldn't help but wonder why fate had brought you here. In a home that was no longer home and in a place you found no more joy. Was this to be the end of your story?

Or had it only just begun

What brought you here? To this house with its frigid walls and distant past that felt more like Hel than home.

Maybe everything was written the day your mother and Kratos first met in the Midguardian woods. Blood and bruises were replaced with tender kisses and endearing looks. Given the lives each of them had led up to that moment, such a thing seemed almost impossible. But it was just the right time in just the right place. Perhaps that was the beginning.

Perhaps it was the day you were born into this world. You were unfamiliar with its ways and were oblivious to the path it would lead you down. But when a mother's loving arms were around you, none of that mattered.

Or perhaps it happened gradually, like the memories of your youth. Warm was your mother's demeanor, a woman who was never anything but the sun in your universe. Cold was the avoided stare of your father, a man who you saw in passing moments and in staring shadows. Always silent, always out of reach.

Maybe the day you were finally old enough to leave, free and eager to see the world. Your mother was never far behind you as you took each step. You grew on your own, but her hands were always there to guide you, and her wisdom knew no bounds. The two of you grew closer than ever before, separated only by circumstance and duty. She confided in you the secrets of her past, the stories of who she had been. A renowned warrior among her people. Though who those people were was never something imparted to you.

Or perhaps it was the birth of your brother. By then, you were much older. In fact, you were already well on your own. The second child of the two seemed to shake your father but for what reason you never knew. You wondered if that was how he was when you were born, or if his avoided eyes had always been there.

Or maybe...maybe it was the day you had returned home. After so long away spent exploring new worlds and meeting both friend and foe alike you had decided it was time. With excitement brimming at being able to see your mother again you made haste to that old home of yours. But when you returned you found no trace of the woman. Instead you found your brother, older by a few years now and predictably not recognizing you. After that you found your father who, upon seeing you, dawned an even more serious look than normal. He told you of your mother's death along with a letter she had left behind for you.

It had been so sudden to you. Your day had been so full of anticipation and excitement but all of it drained from your body as those words processed. Yet the reality of it could never be denied. Your father would never lie about such a thing.

He told you of the coming long winters and the now unsafe lands along with your mother's wish for you to stay upon your return.

Yes, that must have been it. That was how you ended up here. You learned that not only had your mother been sick for months and never sent someone to seek you out in that time, but that she had been rather keen on avoiding seeing you all together. Your father and brother had been able to hold and care for the last remnants of her dying spirit and she had left you nothing more than a note. A note you would never dare to open.

Upon being faced with this you sought out the peak of Jotunheim yourself. You followed in the footsteps of their journey through icy cold and reminisced in familiar stories of your mother's past. You had learned by the end that the journey had been planned for your father and brother from the start. Each road and each step known by her. She had left a path for them to follow, a way forward to carry them through a life without her.

But you found no prophecy held on the walls that mentioned you. No mention of your very existence could be found on them. You found no picture, no name, no symbol or sign that would allude to you.

And it was then that a dark, irreparable scar had been slashed over your soul. Because you had found no spot for you on the walls of her people, but the continued etchings of your brother. And you found no guidance left for you, as your father gained in many paintings. It was as if you had been forgotten.

Upon returning home, unable to deny the last wish of your mother even as this deep scar formed, you chose to stay. And in the few years you had returned you saw your father, a man once so cold and distant, start to show a side of him to your brother that you had never seen on his best days. It was then you realized that your fear came to be solidified and your suspicions were seen true.

You truly had been forgotten.

You were overwhelmed by a new form of grief as you watched your brother gain something you never had after you had lost the only thing you did. You felt the absence of your mother burn a hole through your very being.

You had nothing else besides her. No painting, no shared memory, no growing care, not even the etching of a name. And now she is gone, leaving nothing behind that could guide you through this horrible fate.

Despite how deeply this grief settled and how it spread through every fiber of your being in waves of constant numbing pain, you pushed it down. You buried it deeper, you ignored even the heavy waves of it. And every time it slipped, every time it seeped out for even just a moment, you would quickly push it down even further until it was nothing more than background noise in your mind. Always buzzing, always there, but only ever heard when it was quiet. When you were alone.

So that was how you ended up here. Sitting in front of the fire sharpening an ax not too dissimilar from your mother's. You had modeled it after hers after all. It only lacked its more magical capabilities of returning when called, but you could hardly complain.

You settled in the silence of Mimir as he read from a book in the other room, but the silence didn't last long as you heard the familiar barks of the wolves and the distant voices of your two remaining family. You didn't move from your spot, the voices fading slightly but only for a few more moments as they were likely checking on Fenrir. It was a few minutes later that your father opened the cabin door. He walked in alone and after so many years of knowing him you could easily read the frustration on his face. The lack of Atreus following behind gave away the reason.

"Well. I'd recognize that dour expression anywhere" Mimir commented. Kratos went to hang his weapon, not looking at Mimir for more than a glance.

"Another fight?" You asked, not looking up from your sharpening. You got an annoyed grumble from him to which you only shook your head slightly. You were all but surprised.

"The wolf is gone" he finally spoke. You stopped what you were doing almost immediately upon hearing his words, soon turning to look at him.

"Oh no…not Fenrir…" Mimir spoke with a tone soft and hurt. The tense air in the room quickly thickened at the sound, the seriousness of the situation hitting all of you.

"I assume he isn't taking it well?" You asked, placing your weapon down for the moment. Your father's eyes glanced over to you but soon turned to look anywhere else. His silence was answer enough.

"He goes to bury him" he spoke as he walked towards the candles, snuffing a few of them out.

"Do you think he's going to need any help?" you proposed as you stood, moving to put away the tools you had been using. Your question sounded simple enough, though the implications were that the boy might need company right now.

"No. That is not necessary." he quickly stopped you. You gave a hum of acknowledgment in response, assuming that Atreus might have asked for space. You moved to put away your weapon beside his as well as before continuing with a few other miscellaneous tasks you needed done before bed.

Kratos soon sat in his bed. You had thought he meant to sleep but you were all too aware of the eyes that stared into you instead. If the lack of movement didn't give it away the heat of his eyes on your back always did.

"Something you need to say?" You asked, not turning to him as you spoke. There was a long silence before you heard another grumble and he finally turned to head to sleep. It was then that you realized you weren't that tired. In fact you could hardly think of sleeping right now. No. No, you couldn't sleep.

"You worried about the boy?" Mimir spoke. You wondered why he would think that for a moment before you looked to realize your hands had been shaking. You quickly steadied them with a deep breath, soon occupying yourself with a knife and a small piece of wood by the minimal amount of candlelight. You began to carve at it.

"No. He can handle himself fine" you answered, still never looking at him.

"Then what's gone and got ya so on edge?" He asked with his unending curiousness. You gave him a few seconds of silence in response before finding something to tell him

"...nothing in particular" you answered, though it was clear that you were all but honest. Even worse was Mimir’s ability to sniff out a lie faster than a boar looking for a truffle.

"Y'know you can talk ta me. My lips're sealed even ta Kratos if need be" he pushed a little bit, his words finally catching your eyes. You once again mauled over your words for a moment before finally speaking what was on your mind. If for no other reason than to shut him up.

"It's-...It's really not that big of a deal or anything I just-" you got lost in your words for a moment before stopping. You took only a few seconds to pull them together again.

"I don't think I can do this for much longer" you admitted. Mimir remained silent, but his face told you to keep going. So, having already opened the floodgates, you continued.

"There's just so much...death here. Everywhere I look in this place all I see is death. The forest is so quiet now, everything's quiet. There's no life here anymore" you finally admitted. Mimir looked rather taken aback by your words. It wasn't often you let the words of your mind slip out, let alone speak them so plainly. He didn't take long to recover though, quickly pushing past the surprise.

"Well I uh…I can't say I disagree with ya" he gave a reply and, though he meant well, his words did very little to calm you.

You knew that whatever similarity he might have felt wasn't the same. He couldn't have known the significance of these walls or how each familiar smell sent daggers through you day in and day out. He couldn't have known how strange it was for you to return here without remembering everything about her. He couldn't have known how much all of this hurt.

So you remained silent, hoping to avoid another slip of the tongue around someone your father confided in. The last thing you needed was to give him another chore to deal with. Atreus was enough.

You went back to whittling down the small piece of wood in hopes that it would take your attention away from everything.

It rarely ever did.

Hours passed quickly and as they did you began to wonder what was taking Atreus so long. Slowly you began to grow more and more concerned, especially as it only continued to get darker. You left the cabin briefly to see if he had decided to be somewhere else for the moment, but when he wasn't anywhere around a deep dread began to build. Returning to your home you quietly spoke to Mimir.

"He isn't anywhere around. I saw footprints leading out to where he buried Fenrir, but there's no sign of him after" you explained, clear confusion and worry written on your features.

"Well it's best we go look for the boy. Couldn't have gone too far" he suggested, to which you gave a nod in return. Your eyes quickly fell onto the sleeping body of Kratos though, a hesitation passing for a moment too swift for even Mimir to notice before you spoke again.

"We should wake him" The words left even with them being entirely rhetorical, your feet already approaching him before Mimir could say a word.

Your movement paused a good distance away before you called.

"Kratos" your voice carried just a bit louder than normal. He shifted a moment but remained still.

"Kratos!" You yelled a little louder, causing even more of a stir. Yet, to your dismay, he remained asleep.

"BROTHER!" Mimir yelled with all he had in him which caused Kratos, as you had expected, to jump awake screaming as he called his ax to him. His eyes were already fully awake as they searched for the closest sign of danger. With heavy breaths the amber color quickly landed on you, his face wrapped in confusion as he was clearly distraught. You quickly looked over his state as it was all but rare for him to have nightmares. That's why you had kept your distance after all. You only needed to learn the hard way once.

"Atreus hasn't returned. He's been gone for much longer than needed and he isn't near" you quickly explained as you watched him move from whatever had been troubling him before into what he needed to do now. With a couple more ragged breaths he stood. Quickly walking passed you he grabbed Mimir and headed out the door. You grabbed your ax and followed without hesitation.

"The footprints lead down to the Frozen river. I got a little bit further before they stopped" you explained. He nodded along, showing he was listening. A few steps later he came to a sudden stop before turning to you.

"Stay. In case he returns" he asked, or more so demanded of you, before walking away.

And for that moment, that small enclosed space in time, a deep hurt exploded within you. And you almost denied the reasonable request like a child who didn't want to complete a chore. You almost reached out to him; a plea to follow on the tip of your tongue.

But you caught yourself just as quickly, nothing more than the slight raise of your open hand showing that moment of pure reaction to being told to stay. You swallowed your plea and, with nothing more than a nod, returned to the cabin.

You waited a long while in silence. A silence that burned in this place you saw only great loss in. This place was no home to you, no. It felt as if each day things grew worse. But nothing, nothing, hurt worse than the severe isolation that grew. Because each day you looked on as your brother and father grew so close. Each day you watched as Mimir and him grew to be friends. And each day you were reminded of how he could barely look at you.

How proud he seemed of his youngest child. No matter how many arguments or how tense the frustration made their conversations, you could see it every time he looked at him. That glint of something special, that shine of warmth you'd never seen on him besides when he'd look at Faye. It was the look you remembered only ever receiving from her. And now you watched from a distance as he did the same for Atreus, but could hardly say more than a few words to you.

You felt alone, your only semblance of care found in the boy who was far too focused on his future and father to pay you much mind. And even then that care grew not from a strong root, but from a similar frustration found in the ways of your father. You two hardly ever talked of anything else.

Time passed as you once again found a knife in your palm and wood in your hands. You carved away, the wood slowly coming into the shape of a bird. A crow to be exact. You had seen more of them around recently hiding in tall branches. You had wondered when you saw them if perhaps they saw the four of you and believed you would all be dead soon. You almost laughed at the time the thought had arrived in your mind, knowing your family to be persistent enough to outlast death itself. You weren't sure if that thought comforted you anymore though.

After a time you could hardly think to keep track of, the voices arose again, gaining your attention immediately. They were through the door before you even stood.

"As evenings go, that was entirely too eventful. Though I admit it was a bit like old times there. For a moment" the sound of Mimir's voice carried in the cabin. Kratos walked in before setting him down on the table with Atreus followed in quickly after, relieving you immediately.

"Care to tell me about it?" You asked, your eyes shifting to the head once more with a short glance to the other two who moved to get situated for the night. Mimir hesitated a moment before speaking again.

"It's a bit of a story. Might be better ta explain it in the morning" he answered. You nodded as you quickly noticed the hastiness of the two to get to bed. You quieted yourself, allowing for them to do so without any further disruption. A bit of small conversation followed between Atreus and Mimir but you had largely zoned out by then. You were instead more focused on that bird you were making. Anything to occupy your mind.

A few moments passed and quiet began to slowly fall. Atreus and Kratos wasted no time in getting to sleep. It was just before it got too quiet to speak when you heard Mimir once more.

"Still not tired?" Mimir asked, gaining your eyes for a moment. His expression was hidden from the other two by the slight wall, but sitting just across the room from him allowed you to see it just fine. His eyes shined with worry, the intention of his words clear. Just as quickly as you met his eyes did you turn back to the wood in your hands.

"No..." You answered back as you miscalculated a movement, ever so slightly slicing your hand. However it was enough for you to quietly wince, pulling the knife away. A small drip of crimson fell from the tiny wound as an overwhelming and burning sense of irritation overtook you. It was hardly noticeable from any onlooker, but you were nearly about to explode with built-up frustration.

With a quiet huff you stood, placing the knife down on a nearby table as you went to put on your boots and jacket.

"And where are you headin' off to?" Mimir asked, his words gaining the attention of Atreus who you saw just out of the corner of your eye as he perked up. You ignored his stare though, continuing to put on your winter clothes.

"To check on the wolves" you answered, though it was clear the moment the words left your lips that you were all but believable. Thankfully Mimir wasn't about to ask you twice. Atreus on the other hand-

"It's storming out there though" he called in a semi-loud whisper that let you know your father must already be asleep.

"Which is why I'm going to check on the wolves" you reiterated, your tone a slight bit harsher this time. He quickly backed off after that. You grabbed your bow and ax, placing them on yourself just in case.

And into the bitter cold you went.

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alyjojo · 1 year

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Advice to Work on Yourself 💇🏽‍♂️in November 2022: Pisces

9 Pentacles - 5 Swords rev - King of Pentacles

Regarding: 8 Cups

You’ve left a situation & people behind for your own sake, because you’re not fighting with them, you don’t want anything to do with arguments or chaos, though there are obviously clear differences between you. Leaving people behind was probably an act of self care, you do have to worry about your own peace first, and 8 Cups shows you feeling you don’t have much choice in the matter. It’s been some time since whatever happened, and you are being encouraged to open the door again, and speak your truth. You may not have ever actually spoken up in the first place, you just walked away, tired of whatever situation or dynamic between people was happening. This is probably regarding a friend, 3 Cups describes what’s being healed. It could also be upcoming holidays that are giving you the opportunity to heal connections. Communication is key in doing this, yours. Speaking your truth about disappointment, sadness, feeling alone & unsupported. It’s not an easy thing to do, and with Queen of Swords here, you’re having to do this in a way that’s detached emotionally and focused on truth. Just getting it out. Or she’s someone you’re needing to talk to. This opens the door for a possible apology and reunion with people you’ve fallen out with, especially a King of Pentacles. Even in this detached state, a bit of vulnerability goes a long way. You share your truth, someone/s will share theirs, and there is hope for reconciliation & healing ❤️‍🩹

Animal Oracle: Emu 🐦

“This is a good time to go on a new adventure.”

Your sense of adventure is calling you. Can you hear it? Listen to your heart of hearts - the still small voice that whispers to you of holy and exotic places and if the pleasure of discovering the unfamiliar and novel, feeling confident and trusting in your instincts and intuition to guide you on your journey. Let this be a wandering pilgrimage, one where you can be appreciative of whatever circumstances you encounter and make the best of them. Have some idea of where and what you’ll be doing, but don’t be attached to the plan. Instead, be willing to adjust your itinerary as you are so guided.

Dismiss the voice that says “Yeah sounds good, but I can’t do that because…” This kind of thinking not only limits you by always keeping you in the illusion of comfort and safety, but also leads you to avoiding the real life drama that comes from stretching your comfort zone. You do not need to do so in a way that puts you in any real danger, as there are many options where risk is minimal, yet the thrill and excitement of exploration is still there. So heed the calling, and first believe that it’s possible for you to act on it. And don’t wait too long. Life is too short.

Artist Oracle: WASSILY KANDINSKY

- Transcend systems to find spirit.

- Hear music through sight.

- Begin with a dot.

Advice:

- Improve Your Listening, which came out reversed, which is odd…I assume your listening is fine, it’s your communication that needs work.

- Improve Your Posture

Charms:

Pink Cat 🐈 on Improve Your Listening rev shows non verbal communication. The High Priestess is silent, she knows the truth, uses her intuition and communicates with her eyes, mannerisms, interests, thoughts & feelings. You expect people to read your mind, and though it’s possible you have some sort of telepathy with the people around you (as Pisces often does, it’s impossible to “get” Pisces without some level of intuitive perception), it’s more of a gift of your own than something everyone has. Or can read. Therefore, you need to actually speak.

Unicorn 🦄 on The Star shows a bit of magic in healing, seeing the bright side, having faith and an optimistic outlook on your future, yourself, and whatever connection needs healing. It could be a wish come true, or something you didn’t think was possible but actually is.

#boujee kitchen table read #I forgot #sorry bout it #pisces tarot reading #advice to work on yourself #november 2022 #Pisces #tarot

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spacymuses · 2 years

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does this foretell of my return to

The Boy?

i mean like maybe i dunno

#but for real while i think i am in the under/tale fandom to stay for the time being #(long story short i have been beset by the bonds of Friendship which included a 2-week cross country Life Changing Field Trip)#(filled with wacky adventures; comedic mishaps; and getting beautifully lost on spooky backroads)#(in what was probably an insane thing to do with friends you met on the internet less than a year ago)#(yet was exciting in only the way exploring unfamiliar places with people you care about and who care about you can be)#(and is a dear and cherished memory i think about every day and will carry with me for the rest of my life)#(and so honestly being just really into this weird skeleton fandom is just gonna be! a thing! in my life now!)#I might still pop back on here for Hazel #especially once the new anime starts in January #I was rereading some of my old Hazel fics and looking at old threads and mm.#damn.#i sure do still love that boy #i love that awful awful beautiful boy #i'm thinking about it! though it would be a fresh start on drafts and such #i really earnestly do want to though #will someone PLEASE teach the saiyuki anime people how to make trailers though #i get it it's sTyLiStIc but it's just cut so awkwardly

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pokemonispain · 2 years

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Invasive Species-Bennett/Razor

Summary: In which Rifthounds invade Wolvendom

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Like much of Mondstadt, Wolvendom was a fairly peaceful place although many residents who were unfamiliar with fighting or unable to defend themselves still steered clear of it. Not just because of the worry of getting attacked by the wolves that lived there but due to the many ancient legends about the Wolf of the North, Lupus Boreas or Andrius.

It was a well-known fact among Mondstat’s citizens that Wolvendom was Lupus Boreas’s domain and that it was best not to test his patience as the old wolf could be fickle. So most residents stayed away from that corner of Mondstadt, not daring to venture forth and explore the lush, sprawling woodland forest that dotted that area.

Still despite all that Wolvendom was Razor’s home, the only home he knew having grown up there his entire life. He lived among the wolves there, helped them hunt, and of course, considered them his family. He took care of them and they did the same for him. As such he felt no fear nor apprehension when roaming the all too familiar dirt trails that lined the pathways throughout the forest in Wolvendom. If anything it was comforting and relaxing.

Andrius although could be a bit abrasive and reluctant in how he looked out for the boy. Often telling him that he didn’t belong out there among the wolves, that his true home was in the cities of Mondstadt where his own people were. Where the humans were. This saying was heard by Razor more and more frequently as of late, especially considering Razor seemed to be growing closer with many residents of Mondstadt but especially Bennett from the Adventurer’s guild there.

More often than not the two would walk around Wolvendom just spending time together if they weren’t off exploring or spending time in Mondstadt. Razor was always hesitant and a bit afraid to go into the city, finding it too loud, overbearing, and crowded, suffocating almost. But with Bennett there, it didn’t feel as overwhelming and scary as usual.

Razor’s answer to Andrius was always the same whenever the large wolf told him he should leave Wolvendom, that he didn’t belong there which was no. This was Razor’s only home and the only place he could imagine living. And although Andrius could just make Razor leave if he truly wished he never did, often watching over the boy at a distance and always appearing when Razor walked into his domain simply to check on him.

Today, just as any other day, Wolvendom was quiet and rather peaceful. The soft chirping of birds floated through the air and a gentled yet warm breeze rustled the lush green leaves on the many trees and bushes.

“You just gotta check the traps right,” Bennett asked as he and Razor walked along one of the familiar dirt pathways.

The pair had just returned from a rather relaxing day in Mondstadt as well as doing a few minor commissions posted at the Adventurer’s guild. Things such as the occasional small hilichurl camp or an abyss mage that seemed to be getting a bit too close to the city.

While Bennett loved exploring ruins and expeditions as well as the excitement that came with it he also enjoyed the more quiet moments in a sense. It made him feel happy to be able to help people and was just something he did rather than he felt needed to be done.

“Should be full now,” Razor said with a nod. While it had taken him a bit of time to get used to how the hunting traps he’d been given by Lisa, functioned eventually he’d gotten the hang of it.

Razor had all of the locations where boars and rabbits tended to congregate in memorized naturally, so all he had to do was put one or a few traps in those locations and hide them using branches or leaves. Admittedly it was easier than the way Razor had hunted boars before, which involved stalking them through bushes, lurking, and hiding until he could choose the exact moment to strike. It also allowed him to take home more food as well as he didn’t have to worry about the animal getting away.

Occasionally though there were times where Razor would hunt the boars like he used to, it was strangely soothing in a way and fun although Razor wasn’t really sure why just that it was.

As he and Bennett come to one of the areas where Razor set the hunting traps however Razor stops walking, a scowl on his face as he sniffs the air catching a strange almost unnatural scent in the air. The air that flowed through Wolvendom often smelled of fresh soil and grass with a hint of soft sweetness to it due to the flowers dotting the area.

At the moment though there is the harsh, thick almost overbearing scent of decay. Normally this wouldn’t be unusual especially for Razor, things died in the forest all the time and if you left dead things out in the open they started to stink. He knew this from experience, but this scent smells different than that. Like plants rotting away and dying left to fester in filthy ages-old water. It’s a sharp bitter, nearly poisonous, rancid scent mixed with an almost sickly sweetness that reminded Razor of the thick overwhelming perfumes that he sometimes smelt on people in Mondstadt.

Just one faint whiff of the stuff often was too much for his sensitive nose, making his eyes sting and water as it

filled his nose to the point where he could taste it, the chalky dull bitterness often tinged with cloying sweetness.

“Razor? What’s wrong,” Bennett asked when Razor grimaced and took a step back, his hand covering his nose.

Razor shakes his head, his eyes narrow as he looks at Bennett. “Smells wrong, dead.” It’s the only way Razor can really think of to describe it, truthfully, that something was wrong, that the scent was unnatural and invasive.

At his words, Bennett can’t help but frown, because he doesn’t really smell anything weird. And yet something feels off somehow, a slight feeling of dread settling over him making him weary and Bennett glances around his eyes slowly roving over the area for a moment or two. Nothing seems out of place however, he doesn’t even see any abnormal animal or monster tracks.

“Maybe whatever got caught in the trap was sitting out too long? When did you set them,” Bennett asked, a frown still on his face.

Razor shakes his head as he slowly lowers his hand from his face, his eyes still narrow as he slowly begins walking towards the exact area he’d placed the trap in. “Set this morning,” he murmured.

Bennett nodded at his words, his frown still in place as he followed Razor. If Razor had set them today then it’d be a bit strange for whatever the trap caught to have started rotting, it wasn’t even a humid or hot day either.

And yet something in the back of Bennett’s mind kept nagging at him, he doesn’t know if it’s his adventurer’s intuition or what but it has him summoning his sword anyhow his grip on its hilt tightening.

Razor is quiet as he crouches down in the spot where he’d left the trap. That vile scent is stronger here than before, nearly choking him as it fiercely stings his nose. The thing that catches Razor’s eye however is that the leaves and branches he covered the trap with are now stained red with blood and slightly displaced.

A strange sensation settles over him akin to looming dread because Razor knows that the wolves in Wolvendom don’t hunt like this. He dislikes this feeling, it's uncomfortable prickling at his skin as he carefully clears away the leaves and branches however that feeling of dread blossoms further.

This is because caught within the trap is a singular boar leg torn at the thigh, ragged tufts of fur and flesh at the end where the rest of the boar’s body had been torn away.

“Wha-“ Bennett begins his eyes wide when he sees the boar leg caught in the trap. “Did the wolves do that?”

And yet despite Bennett’s question, he feels as if he already knows the answer just from the look on Razor’s face, not to mention the state they found the trap in. Wolves wouldn’t meticulously cover the trap back up if they had raided it, there’d be more of a mess as well instead of just the blood smeared on the leaves.

Razor shakes his head as he looks back at Bennett, a deep frown on his face. “Too clean. They don’t touch traps,” he murmured.

Seconds later a loud pained yelp seemed to echo out from deeper in the forest coming from further up ahead towards Lupus Boreas’s domain. It’s followed by a loud almost ear-piercing howl more akin to a scream.

Razor is on his feet in seconds, summoning his claymore as he rushes off with Bennett quickly following behind. What had caused that noise had not been good in the slightest.

~~~

The territory leading up to Lupus Boreas’s domain only fills Razor with more and more worry each step he takes. The stone cliff faces now covered in enormous gouging claw marks, the once abundant lush cedar trees were now crumpled like paper.

Up ahead Razor can hear fierce animalistic snarls and blood-chilling echoing howls drifting from Lupus Boreas’s domain. The snarls are strange not belonging to any animal Razor has ever seen or heard, it’s like sand scraping against glass making his ears ache, unnatural. This sound only pushes Razor to run faster, fear and anxiety twisting in his chest as his heartbeat pounds in his ears, the fear, and terror of something being wrong with the wolves, with his family looming over him the entire time.

Lupus Boreas’s domain is more akin to a stone arena than a cave or den, a frigid cold scraping against Bennett and Razor’s exposed skin as they enter it. Thin yet icy fog cloaks the arena settling over the pair like a fine cloak.

But none of that matters at the moment considering what is happening before them inside of the domain. Lupus Boreas stands tall, ice and frost curling around his enormous form acting as an almost protective shield for the small group of wolves, mostly pups, huddled around his feet. His hackles are raised, his blue and white fur bristling as he bears his enormous fangs at the creatures in front of him, his face wrinkled as he snarls.

The creatures that his fury is directed at seem like wolves themselves at first glance but they’re all too wrong. Their bodies are thin and lanky, almost skeletal in nature, and segmented as such.

The small amount of fur they did have seems jagged and spikey as if solidified into one lump. They were enormous as well yet still dwarfed in size by Lupus Boreas, while Lupus Boreas’s movements were direct and precise almost like an arrow, these creatures moved like snakes as they floated in the air.

Their eyes glow with a bright yet ominous light, a cloud of dark purple miasma wafting off of them in oppressive waves. There are two of the bigger wolf-like creatures and two smaller ones almost like pups at their side.

At the creature’s feet lay the familiar forms of about four wolves. The wolves are ones that Lupus Boreas knows well, they’re ones Razor knows well too. Ones he’s played with, hunted with, grown up with, and watched as they had pups.

Razor is instantly rushing forward in a flurry of electro, a fierce rage in his eyes, unlike any Bennett nor Lupus Boreas has seen before.

The strange wolves seemed almost stunned, the smaller ones slithering back while that purple miasma cloaks the larger ones as they seemingly vanish.

Bennett quickly follows after Razor already gathering his elemental energy as he rushes to where the wolves are laying on the ground seemingly motionless.

“What are you doing? Leave,” Lupus Boreas snarled as he looked at Bennett and Razor. There’s clear anger in the old wolf’s voice but beneath that lurks something else, frustration.

Bennett doesn’t look at Lupus Boreas although he does spare a quick glance over to where Razor is fighting the small wolf-like creatures. Despite his ferocity though and Razor’s experience he seems to be having trouble with actually injuring the creature, if anything his elemental attacks seemed to be making it grow stronger and faster.

Bennett turns his attention back to the wolves in front of him, his eyes quickly darting over the wounds on their bodies. The wolves were still alive, still breathing thankfully but the wounds are unlike anything Bennett has seen before. Large raking claw marks slashing through the skin, the wounds swollen and red as if infected dying the gray fur a rust-like red.

The open flesh has a strange gray tint to it, black veins spread out from the wound like a spider web, writhing just beneath his skin. Reddish-gray foaming is welling out of it, seeping into the fur.

Bennett shakes his head as he closes his eyes and focuses on drawing his elemental energy to him. There was enough time the wolves could still be saved. Bennett’s vision glows a vibrant red as a wave of warmth cloaks him, it spreads outward in a circle latching onto the wolves at his feet.

“Take him and leave, this is not a matter for humans,” Andrius ordered Bennett, his voice turning harsher. “These unnatural things are not meant for humans to trifle with.”

Andrius glances down at the wolf pups huddled at his feet, small fragile things looking to him for protection before his eyes dart back over to where Razor is fighting sparks of electro crackling in the air. Andrius grits his teeth frustration along with a combination of something else gnawing at him akin to worry or fear.

He’s old, he knows what these abominations are and with the scent they carry he knows exactly where they come from. The abyss. Still, though Mondstadt was no stranger to the occasional abyss mage creatures like this appearing are an abnormality.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it, one of the larger creatures he’d been fighting, the things that humans called Rifthounds, appear seemingly out of nowhere behind Razor lunging towards him.

Andrius moves almost instinctively. “Leave,” Andrius snarled as he slams one of his large paws down sending shards of ice flying through the air towards the large Rifthound.

The shards of ice strike true, piercing the Rifthound’s hide and sending it stumbling and staggering backward but that doesn’t seem to deter it. Its eyes glow fiercely as its face practically crumples in on itself, black viscous liquid dripping from his mouth as it bears its yellowed teeth.

Then it throws its head back and lets out an echoing almost ear-piercing howl, the fur on the back of its neck glowing purple. In the next second, it vanishes and instantly Andrius begins scanning the area.

Rifthounds were like rodents in the way they seemed to pop out of their hiding places to attack before scurrying back to safety. It made battling them a nuisance as just like real wolves they often hunted in packs always intent on wearing their prey down to make it easier to kill.

“I healed them, they should be okay,” Bennett told Lupus Boreas quickly as he got to his feet, sword still in hand. He feels a bit drained and tired but that was normal especially after using so much elemental energy to heal that many wounds at once.

The old wolf spares him a brief glance but immediately looks back over to where Razor is. He’s dispatched the two smaller rifthounds and is now fighting one of the larger ones. While Razor is experienced in fighting at the moment he’s fighting recklessly, his rage fueling his ferocity making his moments sloppy and imprecise.

Andrius can see that Razor is clearly tiring himself out which isn’t good. And he grimaces knowing that he must intervene.

He takes a step forward ready to charge, gathering the cryo energy to himself as he does the action as easy as breathing.

Before Andrius can take action however the Rifthound he’d injured early reappears directly behind Razor seemingly out of nowhere, its claws darting forward and striking true.

Razor scream as blood flies through the air, it's not a normal scream either, it's one of absolute pure agony that has no business coming from a person’s mouth. It's that noise that has both Bennett and Andrius rushing to his aid.

Razor falls to his knees, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth gritted. Warm almost searing hot blood trickles down his back chasing away the frigid cold that had been wrapped around him merely seconds before.

He feels odd all of a sudden, a dizzying wave of nausea suddenly slamming into him like a truck, a harsh heat prickles at his skin and he closes his eyes for a moment feeling lightheaded.

It’s hard for him to conjure up even the simplest of thoughts, with each attempt only resulting in it slipping through his fingers. But as the world sways sickeningly before his eyes in a myriad of colors his brain does manage to form one coherent thought.

That it hurts .

Razor whimpers, struggling to remain sitting up as his body trembles. He hears familiar voices calling his name but can barely register anything they say beyond that, their words muffled, drifting into one ear and out the other.

Razor feels hands on him, on his waist and back, on his wounds. Immediately he struggles as white-hot pain rushes through his body, slamming into him like a truck as it overloads nearly all his senses in an instant. The pain is so viscous it steals his breath away leaving him unable to even scream, a soft choked gasp leaving his mouth.

And yet even through the pain, the nausea, and the confusion swarming Razor’s senses that burning rage is still there. That these creatures, whatever they were, hurt the wolves. They hurt his family.

He hears two snarls coming from somewhere in front of him, one of which is all too familiar belonging to Lupus Boreas and the other belonging to one of the rifthounds he’d been fighting. He struggles feebly against the hands that are touching him, their grasp firm yet gentle as they move him.

The movement is seemingly small but does no favors for his swaying and swirling vision, pain sparking along every inch of his skin like needles jabbing him as if his own electro vision is turning on him. His stomach sloshes violently as if it's being rolled down a hill and Razor gags emptily yet harshly drool dripping from his lips onto the ground. It’s hot as well, the unbearable heat prickling at his skin, enveloping him as it mixes with the pain and the overwhelming nausea leaving him panting and dizzy in a near delirious state.

Razor whimpers, his head lolling as he swallows thickly as drool leaks from his mouth trickling down his chin. His back feels as if it's on fire, the wounds throbbing violently in time with his heartbeat. He should’ve been cold considering the frigid cold fog still floating through the air due to Lupus Boreas’s presence and yet he felt anything but that.

The moving stops for a moment, the hands leaving him as he’s placed on his side, and yet the ground still feels as if it's tilting and swaying sickeningly beneath him, making his stomach slosh violently.

“Razor! Can you hear me,” Bennett asked frantically as he leaned over Razor. He spares a brief quick glance over towards where Lupus Boreas is fighting the last Rifthound, having frozen and shattered the other large one.

Bennett has his hand pressing firmly against the giant claw wounds on Razor’s back, reddish-gray foam is welling out of them coating his hand although his touch is doing little to stem the bleeding considering the size of the wounds. Bennett can already tell by just one look that healing magic or not it's going to scar. The thought is more of a fleeting one in the back of his mind, brought on by his knowledge as both an adventurer and a healer still, it leaves a bad taste in Bennett’s mouth.

Bennett lifts his hand slightly to peer at the wound, a grimace twisting his features when he notices the strange gray tint to the red, swollen flesh there. It was just like the injuries the wolves had earlier.

“Razor,” he called again, giving the other boy a slight shake when he hadn’t responded. Razor gives a low pained groan but seems relatively conscious and aware, even struggling slightly when Bennett tilts his head a bit to peer into his half-closed eyes.

They’re glassy, the pupils were blown wide but there’s a small amount of clarity there letting him know that Razor has some idea of what’s going on.

Razor feels as if he’s being rolled down a large hill almost endlessly with the way his stomach is churning, he feels Bennett touching him again probably moving him to get a better look at his back. But that disparity between where it feels like his body is going and where he actually is has his stomach lurching and he retches harshly, a shudder rolling across his body as the noise turns garbled halfway through as he chokes up a thick wave of lumpy brown vomit, the rancid sour taste of soiled meat coating his tongue as the vomit splatters across the ground.

Grimacing Bennett brushes Razor’s hair out of his face with one hand as he summons his sword with the other and closes his eyes. It is incredibly hard to block out the sounds of Razor’s pained whimpers, to clear his mind so that he can gather his elemental energy.

Razor feels a familiar almost soothing warmth slowly roll across his skin, cloaking it. It seeps deep into his bones chasing away the harsh throb and stinging burn of the wounds on his back but does nothing for his nausea and overwhelming dizziness.

Razor retches again the noise gurgling in his throat as another surge of lumpy brown vomit surges from his lips adding to the sickening slurry beside him. A slight twinge of discomfort crawled across his back as his body shuddered instead of feeling like his skin was tearing apart at the seams as it had before.

That soothing warmth soon quickly fades, a sharp chill rolling over him in its place and Razor shivers as he coughs harshly threads of drool and bile dripping from his lips.

Bennett’s face appears in his vision once more as he brushes Razor’s hair away from his face, although with Razor’s vision swirling the way it is Razor isn’t able to register Bennett’s expression.

“Razor, how feel does it still hurt,” Bennett asked him quickly as he tries to peer into Razor’s face. The wound has closed and stopped bleeding leaving pink, almost fleshy, tender-looking scars in their place.

Razor groans weakly and shakes his head slightly. “Feel…bad. Wrong,” Razor managed to just barely choke out in between his gagging and retching. A small surge of vomit gurgles up his throat, mostly orangish bile this time however and entirely watery.

As his retching and coughing taper off Razor gives a shaky rough sounding exhale as his eyes flutter closed, his body going limp, and instantly Bennett finds his fingers frantically going to Razor’s throat, a wave of relief rolling over him when he feels the familiar thump of Razor’s heartbeat there. It’s going strong although a bit faster than usual.

Hearing a huff coming from nearby Bennett looks up to see Lupus Boreas walking towards them. Black viscous liquid streaking his white fur and snout. The giant wolf turns his head slightly, his face twisting in what seems like disgusted as he spits something off to the side.

Bennett recognizes it as the head of the Rifthound he’d been fighting now encased in a thin block of ice, that shatters to pieces when it hits the ground. Lupus Boreas pays it no mind though as he continues walking.

At first, Bennett believes that he’s coming over to Razor and himself but instead, Lupus Boreas walks over to where the wolf pups and unconscious wolves are. Lupus Boreas is silent as he crouches down slightly seemingly giving them a once over.

Sighing Andrius draws back satisfied, all of the wolves but most importantly the pups were intact. He turns to where Razor and Bennett were his feature’s seemingly impassive as his eyes rove over them for a moment, doing his best to access the situation. A strange sense of worry tugging at his mind when he notices all the blood beneath Razor, the way Bennett is holding his limp form.

Andrius's steps are hesitant almost, although he does not know why. He feels anxious as if truly afraid to look at Razor, he eventually stops in front of the pair crouching down.

Bennett doesn’t know what to expect, but it sure isn’t for Lupus Boreas to carefully crouch down as if making himself smaller before he gave Razor’s body a slight nudge with his nose.

“You healed him as well correct,” Andrius asked although with his rather imposing voice it comes out sounding similar to a demand. His eyes narrowed as he turns his gaze to Bennett briefly.

“Y-yeah, I closed the wound up. It looked just like the wounds the wolves had and Razor said he still felt sick afterward,” Bennett told him quickly.

Lupus Boreas’s face twitches slightly as if he’s trying to make an expression of disgust but can’t quite do it in his current form. “The scent of the abyss clings to him for now but it shall fade with time,” the old wolf murmured shaking his head.

Andrius knew that the poison that those Rifthounds carried on their claws and fangs wasn’t lethal but that didn’t mean it was pleasant. It was used to disorient and weaken whatever prey the creatures were hunting giving them ample time to catch up if it managed to get away.

Shaking his head he scowls or at least tries to, to Bennett it looks more as if he’s about to bear his fangs or growl with the way his ears fold back and his tail flicks out.

Bennett can’t help but jump when Lupus Boreas leans incredibly close, the wolf mouth opening and Bennett gets an incredibly good view of the numerous sharp teeth in his mouth as Lupus Boreas carefully grabs Razor.

Andrius latches onto the back of Razor’s coat, pressing the fabric between his lips as he slowly lifts Razor up the boy dangling limply in his grasp as if he were a puppy grabbed by the scruff of its neck.

“What are you doing,” Bennett asked as he followed after the old wolf. But Lupus Boreas says nothing in response.

It was almost comical how Andrius simply trotted over to the wolf pups his steps extra careful almost as if he was tiptoeing around. He crouches down with Razor still in his grasp, one of his paws crawling forward towards the wolf pups as if to carefully nudge them away.

“Would you like me to move them,” Bennett asked barely holding back his smile. It honestly was a bit funny seeing something like Lupus Boreas act like a skittish house cat as he tried to maneuver around the small fragile creatures.

Andrius looks over at Bennett as if just remembering he was there, and simply nods after a moment glancing away as if either frustrated or embarrassed.

Bennett carefully begins moving the wolf pups aside, his touch gentle as he swiftly works. Eventually, once there’s space in the small crowd Lupus Boreas carefully places Razor down in it, among the wolf pups.

“He prefers the comfort of the wolves when he’s not feeling well.” Is all Andrius said not meeting Bennett’s curious gaze, all his attention on Razor. A strange sense of relief settling over him when he sees the slow rise and fall of Razor’s chest, along with the way his expression seems to relax as the wolf pups began to snuggle up to him.

Andrius still remembers the day Razor began living in Wolvendom, the young boy having been abandoned as an infant in these woods. Now that he was older Andrius often encouraged him to leave and live among his own kind and yet as he stares at Razor he finds himself wondering if perhaps he’d been a bit hasty. Razor was still a boy, after all, it wouldn’t hurt for him to stay a few more years. At least until Razor had fully grown and could properly fend for himself.

This is what Andrius tells himself at least to cover up and ignore his own fear and anxiety he’d been feeling. It would seem that despite casting off his human form, he was still quite human at heart.

#emetophilia #emeto fic #Genshin emeto #anime whump #canon-typical violence #bennett x razor #Razor genshin impact #bennett genshin impact #andrius genshin #My writing #genshin fanfic #tw poison #tw graphic descriptions of wounds

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elfwoodfae · 3 years

Text

Writing’s On the Wall Harrison Eo Wells x reader.

Chapter 2- Specter.

Author’s note: I am so happy and excited for this new series. I hope sincerely that you all like it and let me know your thoughts, this new series will touch on darker themes up ahead in the future. Also tumblr is being annoying with the paragraphs that’s why they are so far apart.

I made this moodboard. I looked up and searched the photos and edited them. I don’t mind if you use it.

Part 1 (here)

A strange calmness falls over him; he turns around, opening his eyes for the first time in hours. He feels exhausted, having spend the majority of the night observing you. He chastises himself, he shouldn’t have done that, there was no other option, he reminds himself, he is desperate and frustrated. The sudden reminder of your presence this early in the morning angers him, a growl escaping his mouth as he sits up, the white linens of the bed pooling around his hips as he rubs his face with one hand, turning his head and doing a double take at the door, making sure is locked, he knows he locked it last night but the paranoia your presence has brought him makes him second guess himself.

His feet touch the floor first, he stretches his arms over his head, moaning at the relief it offers, his white shirt riding up enough to expose a gleam of milky skin; his hair is a mess of black curls, the expression looking back at him thorough the mirror is annoyed, tired, he splashes water on his face, he needs to wake up. The shadow of a beard is starting to appear on his chin, along his jaw and cheeks, he closes his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck and sighting before gripping the sink in a moment of fury where he wishes he could rip it out of the wall and throw it, shattering it into pieces.

How hard could it be to get rid of you? It wouldn’t be hard at all, it would be done before you could even draw your next breath, it would bring him more pleasure than beating Allen, but the consequences would be devastating, his rational side reminded him, there was not possible way to free himself from the torture of your existence without dooming his. Had Joe not met you things would have been different but he could see as clear as day the picture waiting back for him at the lab. Barry most likely knows about you by now, he knows there will be questions once he gets there, they will be innocent in nature but they will only serve to cement your presence into his mind.

He looks at himself in the mirror, admiring every detail of his clothes before he turns around, spotting his chair exactly where he had left it last night; he walks to it, looking at it so intently as if his gaze alone could burn it, hating the thing he punishes himself with. It’s for a greater good, he remembers. Wheeling into the main area of the house he notices all the lights are still off, he takes solace onto the fact that you are still sleeping, freeing him from your presence even if he knows it will only be for a few hours. He decides to leave, not wanting to take the chance of you deciding to appear and tag along, he doesn’t think of himself capable enough to not pull a Brutus a gut you in the middle of the day. This are also the only quiet moments he will get to think, to work on his suit, he sighs, there is so little time for him to use even when he is always alone.

The room is unfamiliar to your eyes, the bed linens are soft, warm, they smell of fresh cotton and clean clothes, it takes a moment for your memories to return, reminding you where you are. The room is dark, the curtains successfully blocking any sunlight from peaking in, there is no telling the time as you look around trying to get at least a sense of how rested you are. The clock reads sometime after 8, Harrison has more likely left by now and a slight disappointment settles over you, you wanted to see the labs, maybe he will want to take you tomorrow. The bathroom is spacious, glass doors decorating the shower as a black marble vanity rest on the wall, its too big for one person, it feels too luxurious for a guest room. Your mind reminds you of a forgotten fact, Harrison was never a showoff kind of person, he liked his house to feel welcoming and cozy, completely opposite to this place.

Walking out of the room is impossible not to notice the eerie silence that accompanies you, all the lights are off but the sun seems to illuminate the whole place through the skylight. A feeling of anxiety settles in your stomach as your eyes scan the expanse of the room, a corridor shielding doors you haven’t explored yet calls to you, maybe it would be best to wait for him to come back and show you around. You look around once again, scanning the walls and every available surface, your brows furrowing once a detail settles into you that you hadn’t taken into account the previous day; there is not even a single photo of Tess or himself anywhere. Maybe he has them in his room, or perhaps in his office, you think, the anxiety of walking into his space long forgotten, replaced with curiosity.

With fast steps you make it to the first door, its unlocked. The wood doesn’t creak when you open it and you wish it had, any sound would be better than this silence. Peaking your head inside, rows of shelfs of books welcome you, a dark desk sits in the middle, random papers and pieces discarded around it, nothing you would be able to recognize. A leather chair sits behind it and for a moment you wonder what could he need it for? Scanning the surface for any photos, any memories of Tess you could find but is empty, not even a photo of her in any of the walls.

Moving along you walk to the last room, the one on the end of the hall; opening the door, the room is dark, no light peaking into it, the bedsheets are a dark grey, almost black, nothing is out of order, a smell that could only be described as a freshly shaved man and clean clothes hits you, its pleasant, fresh. There is once again no photos to be seen, you should turn around, walk back and continue with your day but curiosity gets the best of you; the walking closet is big, rows of clothes hanging, color coordinated and perfectly ironed. A mirror from floor to ceiling adorning the wall in front of you. Walking closer to his clothes you grab the sleeve of one of his expensive white shirts, wanting to feel the softness of it, you don’t recall ever seeing him wearing one. Out of impulse you bring it to your nose, clothing your eyes as the smell of his cologne hits you, causing a blush to rise up your cheeks; he probable sprays it on himself here, impregnating everything around him.

Abandoning his room you walk into the kitchen, there is so many things about him you wish you knew, things that have probably changed and things that you don’t remember. He seems so distant, so cold, so unavailable to you, it made you wonder why he had allowed you to stay with him, perhaps it was not you, it was your attachment, the last piece of her memory he had, you were like an heirloom, one he refused to throw away, and that realization made you sad.

He didn’t seem happy, he seemed lonely, used to being by himself, making you question if he had any friends, if there was anyone caring for him. The man you remembered was always accompanied, always surrounded by people, always kind, always loving; where had that man disappear? You wondered, remembering how he hadn’t even known who you were once he picked up the phone that night, but what could you expected? You had never reached out, staying like a ghost, gone and hidden from his life.

Sighting you shake your head, forcing these thoughts to abandon you, having had enough of their torment for a day, there are things after all to be do today. Her face attacks your memory, you remember her from the times Tess and Harrison had brought her over, Christina is her name, she was close to Harrison and she had been very close to Tess, urging the obligation of a visit in you the moment you had decided to visit Central City, certain guilt at staying so out of touch to both of them fills you.

Perhaps you should have called her office before hand, you think, she is a busy woman after all, but after a few name drops from her past her assistant informs you that she will see you shortly. The door opens to the conference room she asked you to wait at, her face haven’t changed, a few wrinkles here and there, but the same determine eyes started back at you.

“Y/n” she says your name, surprise lace in her voice, she seems excited to see you. She hugs you, before commenting how much you have changed since she last saw you approximately fifteen years ago.

“I am so glad you could see me, I’m so sorry I never reached out, is just after the death of Tess so many things changed.” You begin, feeling the sting of tears coming to her at the emotion of relieving those memories, at being so close to someone that knew her.

“I’m surprise Harrison didn’t mention that I was visiting, I assumed you both were close friends.” You say nonchalantly, catching in the way her face contract, she seems uncomfortable at the mention of his name.

“Well yes we were.” She says, taking in a breath before continuing.

“You see, after the accident Harrison and I fell out of touch.” She says, seemingly leaving it at that, but curiosity is a powerful feeling, pulling its strings inside of you, forcing you to ask.

“Oh, but don’t you both keep any contact at all?” The question seems innocent, you genuinely want to know. She understands that, concern for you raising in her as she decides to open up more to you.

“I’ll be honest with you y/n, after the accident Harrison changed so much, that loving, caring man disappeared, he became cold, calculating, manipulative. I understand how grieve can change a person, but he, is like he is not even the same person anymore.” She tells you and you get the feeling she is not speaking in a metaphorical way.

You decide to confide her in your worries of him, in your confusion when he didn’t know who you were, when he didn’t even recognize your name. You can see the concern raising in her eyes, at you being alone with a man neither of you know any longer, but you assure her is fine, you will be fine, how bad could he be? He wouldn’t hurt you, this was Harrison you both are talking about, even if neither of you believe it completely.

@twilightlover2007

@austarus

@harrisonwellsisdaddy

@wintersire

@reallystressedhoneybee

@fanfiction-and-fantasies

@saltykidcreation

@dumpeetintofyre

@yetanotherwells

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beauregardlionett · 3 years

Text

star-crossed lovers and other tragedies made right

AO3 Link

One of Beauregard Lionett’s earliest memories was of her parents sitting her down and telling her she would one day be wed in matters of business rather than love. Her mother had taken Beau’s tiny hands in her own delicate ones and told her to never fall in love. Her father, with his eyes hard and unforgiving, warned her to always be on her best behavior. She could never remember what age she had been, but the lofty dollhouse from her fourth birthday still sat in the corner of her bedroom.

Perhaps that had been her harbinger, because not long after, her memories of Yasha began.

Beau’s family estate was in Kamordah, but four times a year, they made the brief trip to Zadash for business and personal matters alike. It was there, among the sprawling, weaving streets of the Pentamarket, that they met. Beau had ducked from her mother’s side to go exploring, rucking up her skirts with distaste as she went. Though she never got to explore on her own before, she was enthralled by the array of options before her. Pristine tents alongside ramshackle booths, steaming baked goods and glittering jewelry hawked with the same enthusiasm as mere trinkets. Her bones all but vibrated with the resonance and life that defined the market streets.

Rounding a corner, Beau’s eye caught on a stall selling trinkets and flowers and bolts of fabric. She trotted her way over, the tiny coin purse she had hidden at her waist jingling quietly. Beau eyed up the trinkets with interest, pushed onto her tiptoes to view the toys. As she stood inspecting the spread on the short table, a flash of white in Beau’s peripheral caught her attention.

Turning, Beau blinked wide eyes at the girl beside her. She stood several inches taller than Beau and looked a few years older. Her hair was shockingly white and her clothing rather plain in style and color. Beau envied that she got to wear breeches while she was stuck with her dress. The flowers assorted behind the table caught the girl’s attention, and Beau tried to return her focus to the trinkets. But they didn’t seem to have the same allure now as they had before the girl walked up.

“May I have one of those?” A soft voice spoke from the direction of the girl. Beau flicked a look sideways, surprised that for all her sturdiness, she sounded so sweet.

“Three copper,” the stall owner croaked, reaching for the stem.

“Oh,” the girl hesitated, catching her lower lip between her teeth and clenching a fist. “I only have two.”

“Here,” Beau spoke before she even thought the action through. She dug her neatly embroidered coin purse free of her belt and produced a copper piece. Holding it out to the girl beside her, Beau didn’t smile, just waited expectantly.

“Thank you,” the girl whispered, cheeks pink. “But I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” Beau shrugged, growing a little impatient. “It’s my allowance, and I want you to take it for the flower.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Beau sighed in a manner her mother would have a fit over. “My arm is getting tired, do you want the flower or not?”

With great hesitation, the white-haired girl reached out and took the copper piece from Beau. The stall owner flicked a look between the two before snatching the coin from the girl’s hand and passing over the bloom. Trinkets forgotten, Beau trot after the girl who had retreated a few shy steps from the stall.

“What’s your name?”

“Yasha,” the girl blinked down at Beau, confused rather than annoyed by her continued presence. “Thank you for helping me. What’s your name?”

Beau waved the girl’s gratitude away, unfamiliar with how she might accept it.

“It was just a copper piece,” Beau said, noticing now that Yasha had two different colored irises. “I’m Beau.”

“I suppose,” Yasha agreed, weaving the long stem of the flower between her fingers. “I forgot my coin purse at the inn, so I only had a few on me.”

“Where are you staying?” Beau inquired, keeping pace with Yasha as they strode through the bustling market streets. She wondered briefly if her mother was frantic over her missing daughter yet or not.

“The Lodge of the Eclipse,” Yasha’s voice pulled Beau back. “My parents are in town for business.”

Lips twisting, Beau kicked a loose stone in her path, tracking it as it skittered between patrons’ feet. “Mine too, but we’re staying at the Pillow Trove.”

If Yasha understood the implications of her family’s wealth and status by that comment, she didn’t show it. The girl continued weaving the flower stem through her fingers and trudged alongside Beau. She was never very good at conversation with others, one of the many reasons Beau lacked any friends back home. Thankfully, the lively chatter of the market streets filled the silence between them as they walked.

Eventually, they happened upon a small group of children playing a game with a tattered leather ball on a small off-shoot path. Perking up, Beau turned to Yasha and pointed with excitement.

“Do you want to play? We should ask them!”

Yasha looked at the flower in her hands and pressed her lips together in a thin line. Beau looked down at the bloom and then back at Yasha’s face.

“If you’re worried about it, I could put it in one of your braids.” While Beau’s mother had styled her daughter’s braids with great care into a firm, intricate bun, Yasha’s hair was mostly loose. There were braids and twists scattered throughout her mess of white hair, and Beau envied the freedom she could see in the style. She was never allowed to wear her hair the way she wanted to.

But Yasha handed over the flower and crouched for Beau to weave it through one of the older girl’s braids with clumsy fingers. Once it was secure, she grabbed Yasha’s hand and dragged her over to the other children. They eyed Beau’s skirts with hesitation at first, but when she proved the awful dress didn’t hinder her dexterity, they were eager to add more players.

She reveled in the freedom of being able to play with other children, laughing with abandon and working to help her team maintain their lead over the other. Even Yasha’s timid uncertainty vanished after a few minutes, her multi-colored eyes sparkling as she laughed along. A few adults paused their errands to watch them play, cheering one team or another on before going about their business. Others wove hastily through their game with a sneer and without a backward glance.

For once in her life, Beau didn’t care.

As they played, the sun passing on its journey above them, Beau’s foot caught on a loose cobblestone and she went tumbling to the ground. With a loud oof of impact, Beau lay stunned for a moment. Blinking against the disorientation, she winced and hissed at the sharp sting of pain on her knee. When she tugged her skirt up enough to see what happened, Beau found a jagged shard of stone pressed into her skinned knee. She tugged it free with a flinch as Yasha knelt in front of her, very obviously concerned.

“I’m okay,” Beau reassured her, voice shaky with fading adrenaline. “It just stings.”

Yasha caught her lower lip between her teeth before reaching out to place her hands on either side of Beau’s knee. With a deep breath and a low pulse of light, the blood vanished to leave behind the faintest outline of broken skin. The stinging faded rapidly, and the sharp pain replaced with a mere dull ache.

“Whoa,” Beau breathed, blue eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

With a shrug, Yasha helped tug Beau to her feet, looking bashful. “I’ve always been able to do it.”

Before Beau could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps against the cobblestone reached them over the hum of the market.

“Beauregard!” Her mother’s voice made Beau’s little shoulders tense. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick! What happened to your dress? Young lady, you are in so much trouble.”

Clara’s soft hand clamped around Beau’s arm and yanked her away from Yasha. The woman knelt to inspect her daughter with fitful motions and sweeping hands, attempting to brush the worst of the dirt from the dress. Moments later, satisfied that Beau seemed at least in one piece, the frustration and anger returned to her expression.

“I was just playing, mom,” Beau grumbled, twisting her fingers through her ruined dress. “You were looking at boring stuff.”

“Beauregard, you—” Clara cut herself off with a strained sigh, shaking her head. She shoved to her feet and held out an expectant hand. “Let’s go, young lady. Your father is expecting us for dinner.”

Beau knew better than to keep her mother waiting, but she twisted to look over her shoulder at Yasha and the other children, anyway. The street kids were many steps back, eyeing Clara with hesitant distrust in the way children often do with harried strangers. But Yasha stood exactly where Beau left her, eyes flitting between mother and daughter. The hum of the market never ceased around them, but Beau felt distinctly detached from that buzz now.

“See you later,” Beau said with a wry quirk of her lips, waving shortly as her mother took firm hold of Beau’s hand. Even as Clara dragged her back through the Pentamarket toward the Tri-Spire and their hotel, Beau looked over her shoulder at Yasha until she could no longer see her new friend.

The next time Beau found herself back in Zadash with her parents, she slipped away yet again. And by chance, ran into Yasha once more. Beau had eagerly rushed to her, happy to be recognized in return, and they spent another day in the market together. This time, however, Beau was smart enough to plan for eventualities. Before they parted ways, she and Yasha agreed on a place to rendezvous anytime they were in the city. She also got Yasha’s address so they could write letters to each other. After all, Beau’s mother had been stressing the importance of keeping in contact with people as of late.

A few years passed this way, Beau and Yasha keeping correspondence and planning meetings in Zadash around their families’ trips. They would roam the Pentamarket and forget their troubles for a while. When they were still children, Beau and Yasha traipsed through the winding aisles of Zadash, peering into stalls with curious fervor and chasing each other through the busy streets. Every time Beau stepped onto the worn cobblestone of the Pentamarket, that undercurrent buzz rushed through her veins. She didn’t know a thing about magic, but Beau figured it was comparable to this.

When Beau was thirteen and Yasha just gone sixteen, they met in the Pentamarket on yet another family trip to Zadash. Beau knew that both of their families were here on business, but she and Yasha remained blissfully ignorant to the inner-workings of their inheritance.

On days she could escape her mother and father, Beau donned her breeches and sleeveless tunic and fled to Yasha’s company. They spent their time in the city together doing whatever pleased their whims, and Beau reveled in the simple pleasure of not having to wear a dress.

On a warm autumn afternoon, after spending their morning meandering, the pair sat just outside a small bakery. They had spent a great deal of time in a shop called The Invulnerable Vagrant. Beau’s former tutor Bren mentioned it in one of his recent letters, and Beau convinced Yasha they should check it out. Of course, they hadn’t the coin or the need for anything in the shop, but the shopkeeper seemed more than happy to have a pleasant conversation with them. Once Beau mentioned she was a friend of Bren’s, the shopkeeper – Pumat – had gone on quite the tangent about how wonderful he was.

With the promise to return the next time they were free and about the Pentamarket, Beau and Yasha had journeyed to the bakery. With warm drinks in hand, they sat across from each other at a small table and shared laughter over their daily adventures.

“Wait, wait,” Beau managed around her ceaseless giggles. “So you’re telling me that a bunny did all that?”

“I think it was a family of bunnies,” Yasha chuckled, turning her drink with idle intent in her hands. “Somehow they got into the grain stores and just...ate way too much. Dad was furious.”

“That’s fucking hysterical,” Beau snorted, leaning back in her chair. “My dad’s lost a lot of his crop to a mudslide before. But we don’t have a lot of forest animals that go after grapes. I’d love to see his face if a bunny did something like that.”

“At the time it was a bit of a problem,” Yasha said with a grin. “But now it’s just really funny.”

As they fell into another fit of giggles, Beau opened her mouth to respond, only to be cut off.

“Beauregard!” Thoreau’s voice reached her, the buzz of the city freezing in her veins. Beau went rigid, jaw clenching, and watched the mirth fade to worry in Yasha’s eyes.

Her father sounded horrendously angry.

Twisting to glance over her shoulder at her father’s approach, Beau couldn’t help but flinch at the expression on his face.

“What have I told you about these escapades of yours? When are you going to grow up?” Thoreau snapped, coming to tower above where Beau sat.

“We’re just talking, dad,” Beau replied, tone clipped.

“With our rival’s daughter, no less,” Thoreau spat. “In public, as if you are friends.”

“Rival?” Beau said, incredulous. She twisted to look at Yasha again, but she seemed as confused as Beau. They barely ever spoke of their family when they were together, because they wanted to forget all that. But Beau knew the von Brandt family had adopted Yasha when she was very young. The details were sparse, but it was something about owing a debt to Yasha’s late parents. Without a biological heir, the von Brandt’s warden was now their next in line.

But as far as Beau knew, the von Brandt family dealt in the trade of ale, so there was hardly any reason for them to consider each other rivals.

“What are you talking about?” Beau spun back to her father, rapidly growing annoyed at her lack of understanding.

“Your family,” Thoreau spat the word at Yasha as if it were a curse. “Has encroached upon my territory as they delve into wine making. Whatever amicable relations we had before are void now. You can make sure your father knows that well.”

Thoreau then reached down to grab Beau’s arm in a bruising grip and yank her to her feet. Stumbling as she did, Beau struggled, peering over her shoulder at Yasha with wide eyes. This couldn’t be happening. The city buzz now entirely lost, the hopeless confusion on her only friend’s face, and her father’s steely grip around her arm…this couldn’t be happening.

“We will no longer associate with the von Brandt family,” Thoreau said firmly, gaze pinned on his daughter. “And I expect you to uphold that, Beauregard. I have tolerated a lot of misbehavior from you, but do not cross this line.”

He glanced pointedly at the breeches she was wearing, as if it proved a point. Thoreau dragged her away from the table, from Yasha.

“Dad!” Beau protested, snapping back into her body at the realization, struggling against his iron grip. “Dad, stop it! This is ridiculous!”

“Do not fight me on this, Beauregard,” Thoreau hissed as he ignored her attempts to get free. “We have an image and a profit to maintain, and those people have betrayed our trust and our companionship by making this choice. If I ever catch you corresponding with their daughter again, you will not like the consequences.”

As a distinct and familiar feeling of desperation settled in her stomach, Beau twisted to look back at Yasha. Her friend stood beside the table, fists clenched and expression pained. This was the second time one of Beau’s parents forced her to leave Yasha behind, neither of them girls able to do anything to stop it from happening. Her stomach clenched unpleasantly at the thought. Beau hoped that the reassuring smile she tried for conveyed everything she wanted to say.

Don’t worry, I won’t let this come between us. We’ll find a way.

Beau’s mother had sent her to the Pentamarket alone with a list of errands to complete. The only reason Beau accepted the task was for the slim chance she might find Yasha somewhere in the chaos. That, and so she could catch just a taste, a faint hint of that lively high, the city seemed to collectively breathe.

She couldn’t have been there for more than ten minutes before she spotted a familiar shock of white hair emerging from the Lodge down the street. Sometimes, luck was on Beau’s side.

They had still been sending letters to each other in the months since Thoreau declared they were to never interact. But they had been far more discrete about it all. Moreover, they hadn’t seen each other in person since then either. For Beau, it was torture – stuck with limited contact with her best friend.

From a distance, Beau watched Yasha pause outside the hotel, and decided – fuck it. Her father wasn’t here.

Abandoning her errands, Beau wove hurriedly through the crowded thoroughfare toward Yasha. As she reached between passersby, Beau caught Yasha’s wrist just before the other could walk away. Yasha pivoted, eyes wide and only growing wider when she saw who had grabbed her.

“Beau?” Yasha whispered, taking a step closer. “What are you doing here?”

“Disobeying my father, what else?” Beau grinned, breathless. “Come on, Yash. Let’s spend the day together, like we always do. Our parents never have to know.”

“I don’t know, Beau,” Yasha said slowly, eyes flicking around like someone might see them. “What if we get caught?”

“And what if we don’t?” Beau countered. She felt the nervous thrum of Yasha’s pulse at her wrist where Beau still clung to her. “Yasha, people of our parents’ caliber don’t go to the market themselves. The chances of running into someone who might snitch on us are next to nothing! Are we really going to let our parents and their feud come between us?”

Yasha caught her lower lip between her teeth, but even that didn’t stop the slow smile that grew and made her eyes crinkle. She grinned wildly up at Yasha and pulled her along into the messy livelihood of the Pentamarket, throwing themselves with familiar, childlike fervor into the curiosities that Zadash offered. They stopped to play a ball game with some local kids, laughing freely the way they had when they first met. Yasha bought them both a trost to drink and Beau turned around and bought them both warm pretzels to soak up the ale.

Beau dragged Yasha to a stall that was selling absolutely ridiculous looking hats, both of them trying a few on until they were in stitches. The stall owner chased them off after a minute, looking amused despite sounding annoyed. Beau helped Yasha pick out a hair ornament from another stall, the gems and beads crafted into the shape of a flower. They stopped to catch their breath outside a tavern and Beau helped Yasha pin the ornament among her braids, the scene reminiscent of their first meeting.

“There,” Beau declared triumphantly. “That should hold. It looks beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Yasha murmured, reaching up to brush careful fingers over the hairpin. Some of the gems caught the sun just so as she did. “I still think you should have gotten that necklace.”

“I’m not much one for flashy jewelry,” Beau said, waving away Yasha’s comment as she sat beside her friend. “Plus, the last thing I need is more jewelry, what with how much my mother has stashed away for me. She keeps hoping I’ll have a change of heart.”

“My parents keep hoping I’ll wear dresses more regularly,” Yasha sighed, plucking at the fabric of her breeches at her knee. “But they’re so…impractical for everyday life.”

“That’s what I keep telling my parents,” Beau heaved an exasperated sigh. “But then they keep telling me I shouldn’t be doing things that require breeches. Which is absolute bullshit, if you ask me.”

They sat together outside the tavern for a while longer, watching patrons pass. Beau was acutely aware of the way her shoulder brushed against Yasha’s, the warmth that radiated from her. It was comforting, a sensation that she never wanted to lose. Her veins sang with the slow thrum of Yasha’s warmth intermingling with the hyper hum of Zadash. The heady taste of combined sensations in Beau’s mouth left her feeling high, lightheaded.

“Thank you, Beau,” Yasha eventually spoke up.

“For what?” Beau turned her head just enough to look at Yasha sideways.

“For bringing me with you today. I admit I was...afraid of seeing you again. I didn’t want to get you in trouble. But this was fun, and I’m glad we did this. So, thank you.”

“Yeah,” Beau managed, surprised at the depth in Yasha’s voice. “Of course.”

Beau knew how much Yasha meant to her personally, but it seemed now that she had underestimated how much she meant to Yasha. The thought pulled at something not quite painful behind Beau’s ribs. She decidedly ignored it and looped her arm with Yasha’s when they started walking again. If the warmth of Yasha’s skin on her own felt a little more like home than it had earlier, if the high in her veins only grew, Beau pushed the thoughts aside for a later date.

Breezing into the vaulted entryway of her father’s house, breathless and grinning, Beau met no resistance. Her skirts were stained with mud and dirt, the hem frayed and torn in places. Cheeks blotched pink from the biting wind of her horseback ride, Beau kicked her boots to the side, scattering mud across the wooden floor. Gathering her skirts up in a bunch, Beau rushed up the stairs in her stockings, gleeful with the feel of freedom pounding in her veins.

As she tripped into her room, closing the door soundly with a nudge of her hip, Beau set about removing her skirts. She was stripped down to her underclothes, halfway out of her stockings, when the small stack of letters upon her desk caught her eye.

Hopeful that at least one might be from Yasha, Beau hastily tugged her stockings off as she tumbled toward her desk. A quick flip through the letters revealed that they were all from people she knew to be acquainted with her parents. Brow furrowing, Beau placed the unopened letters back with slow confusion and caution.

They were all very clearly addressed to her, not her parents.

Beau turned away from the desk and gathered up her clothing, setting it aside in a basket to deal with later. On her bed was a simple yet elegant evening dress, likely picked by her mother since Beau could sense the impending conversation. It was a deep blue, accented with silver embroidery and clasps on the bodice, the skirts few in layers and the sleeves a proper length.

Beau’s lip curled in distaste at the garment. But she hardly had another choice. If she wore breeches to dinner, the meal would be even longer than Beau already wanted. With a heavy sigh, and her back purposefully to the letters across the room, Beau dressed and headed down to the dining room.

Her mother sat at her father’s right, the man skimming through a leaflet of parchment as servants set the table. One maid noticed Beau’s entrance, and she pulled the chair to her father’s left out. Giving the woman a shallow nod of thanks, Beau slipped into the seat and dug her bare toes into the carpet beneath the table. She could rebel in small ways, after all.

“Did you have a good day, Beauregard?” Her mother asked from across the table, eyeing Beau’s windswept hair.

“Yes,” Beau said, picking up her fork and stabbing her cut of meat rather ruthlessly with it. Her mother’s lips twitched with obvious displeasure, but she didn’t scold Beau.

Setting down his papers, Beau’s father steepled his fingers and leveled a look his daughter’s way. Beau stared back for a moment before sighing and setting her fork down.

“Alright, what?”

“Beauregard,” Clara scolded quietly, but Thoreau held up a hand to his wife and didn’t take his eyes from Beau.

“I trust you found the letters in your room,” Thoreau said, not a question.

“I did,” Beau measured her voice, arms folded across her chest.

“They��re invitations from Zadash. I want you to look them over and take them seriously. You’re at an age now where our business partners and friends are looking to you to enter the social scene of trade. These galas and parties are to keep relations maintained and for you to survey potential suitors.”

Beau’s mouth abruptly tasted sour, the mention of marriage banishing her appetite. She was just gone sixteen and already her father and his friends expected her to carry this mantle.

“There’s no need to look as if you’ve swallowed a lemon,” her mother chided gently. “All we’re asking, Beauregard, is that you keep face with our colleagues.”

“Sure, mom,” Beau scoffed, pushing the food around her plate. “That’s all.”

“Now, Beauregard,” her father’s harsh tone began. “This is hardly a matter to throw a tantrum over.”

“Who’s throwing a tantrum?” Beau affected innocently. “I’m just taking in the fact that two days ago I couldn’t be trusted to help balance your books after a deal. But now you want me to woo the Stassman’s over champagne and finger sandwiches!”

“Beauregard!” Thoreau said, voice rising to the point that all the servants in the room froze with it. “That’s quite enough!”

“That we can agree on,” Beau snapped, pushing back from her seat and storming from the room. She ignored the calls from her mother and father back in the dining room as she stomped up the stairs. Slamming the bedroom door for good measure, Beau angrily got out of the blue dress and tugged on her nightclothes. Soft linen pants and a sleeveless tunic that were loose in their cut brought Beau some measure of comfort as she flopped into her desk chair. Staring down at the four letters left for her, Beau picked absently at the corners of the envelopes.

With a resolute tug to her desk drawer, Beau dumped the letters inside its confines and went to bed. The invitations were a problem she could deal with another day.

Four days after the letters arrived, Beau was perched in her window seat, leafing through a book as mid-afternoon sunlight dappled through the leaves of the tree outside her room. The sunny days in Kamordah were few because of the unfortunate topography, so Beau took full advantage of the warmth. She had gone walking and riding through the nearby fields earlier that morning, and now with the window thrown open beside her, took the quiet afternoon for what it was.

Her parents both pestered her about the letters every day. She kept her answers annoyingly vague because the truth was they hadn’t seen the light since she put them in her drawer.

Beau knew she would have to do something about them sooner rather than later.

A knock at her door drew Beau’s attention away from her book (something about a man who had traveled Wildemount and Tal’dorei in splendid adventures).

“Come in,” Beau called permission, perking up when she found a familiar face opening her door.

“Bren! What are you doing here?” Beau grinned at the elder boy as she set aside her book and pushed to her feet.

“Do I need a reason to visit?” He chuckled, his accent a memorable drawl that tripped through his Common and warmed Beau with nostalgia. Bren drew Beau into a quick, firm hug when she reached him. His time in the capital hadn’t changed his sweet, dorky nature like Beau had feared.

Bren stood just a hair taller than Beau, shoulders broad and with a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes. His red-orange hair fell in a loose ponytail over one shoulder, and the uniform from his school all but glowed with prestige. He had been Beau’s personal tutor when she was younger, traveling from his home in Blumenthal with his mother once a month. Bren had always been bright with books and was the only one who could understand Beau’s attitude. They had a strange understanding of one another, so Thoreau used that to get Beau educated with as little struggle as possible.

About two years ago, Bren had been scouted and selected to attend the Soltryce Academy in the capital. He sent Beau letters whenever he could since moving to the capital, keeping her up to date with his studies and making sure she was continuing her own. To see him here so suddenly was quite the surprise.

“Of course not,” Beau said as she swept a look at him. “But I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I’m on my way to visit my parents back home,” Bren confessed. “One of the higher up professors, Master Trent, retired rather suddenly a few days ago. I only took a few classes with him, but the staff has given us days off while they fill his position. So, I thought I would stop for a visit on my way home.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here.”

A flash of understanding flickered across his face, and Bren clasped a hand to Beau’s shoulder. She didn’t make any move to confirm or deny his silent question, but Bren didn’t seem to need it.

“Why don’t we take a walk?”

Bren led her from the manor and out into the nearby vineyards, the day hot and bright, the grapevines buzzing as insects flit about the leaves. The removed location and her old friend’s undemanding company let Beau’s walls crumble. She told him everything her letters didn’t. About how she passed her days outsmarting her new tutors, pestering her father with ideas for the business he didn’t care to hear. She told him how she drove her mother mad by ruining almost every dress she put Beau in. He seemed amused by all of this, laughing along with her as they walked.

She told him everything about Yasha, about the letters that came almost biweekly, and her replies sent nearly as frequently. Told him about the rivalry between their families that made public interactions risky. But she also told him how those letters were a bright spot in Beau’s days, something to look forward to among the dreary trudge of her family’s expectations.

Their trips to Zadash were what Beau looked forward to most. Yasha’s company was like freedom.

“It sounds like you like Yasha quite a bit,” Bren commented when Beau had paused for breath.

“Of course, she’s my oldest friend,” Beau scoffed.

“That is not the context I meant,” Bren muttered, but breezed past the topic as if it meant nothing. Beau couldn’t keep her thoughts focused on that long enough to parse his meaning out. Her old tutor instead turned the conversation towards the happenings at the capital, entertaining her with his stories now.

When they finally made it back to the manor, the sun was near the horizon and the day cooling with dusk. Stood at the gate of her family’s estate, Beau hesitated to return. She gripped Bren’s hand and turned pleading eyes his way.

“Stay for dinner,” Beau tried not to sound too desperate. “You can leave for home in the morning.”

Something like regret sparked to life in Bren’s eyes as he gently cupped Beau’s hands in his own. His fingers were warm to the touch, and Beau could have sworn they buzzed faintly. She almost asked him if his magic felt the same way Zadash did for her.

“I sent word to my parents that I would return tonight. But I will visit on my way back to school, if I can.”

“How are you going to make it to Blumenthal before dark?” Beau asked, incredulous.

Here, Bren grinned, looking like the excited child she had once known him as. He was still excitable; it was just more amusing for her to see him this way as a nearly grown man. Pulling her into a firm hug, Bren held onto Beau for a long moment, letting her soak up as much comfort as she needed. After a moment, he pulled back and grabbed her hands once more. Giving Beau’s fingers a squeeze, he took a few steps back and turned to the masonry leading up to the gate of the manor.

“Oh, before I show you, I nearly forgot,” Bren’s hand dove into his pocket and produced a letter. He held it out to her with a sheepish grin. “I meant to give this to you before, but we got caught up in conversation. One of the maids had it and asked me to deliver it to you.”

Taking the worn envelope from her friend, Beau’s heart skipped in her chest at the familiar scrawl across the front.

To Beau.

She pressed the letter from Yasha to her chest with breathless excitement. Beau then watched as Bren began a long process of drawing an intricate rune circle on the ground. After a few minutes of this, he paused and looked up at her, grinning.

“This is transportation magic, and will get me home in a flash. Maybe one day, I could take you with me somewhere.”

“Show off,” Beau grumbled, but her eyes must have been sparkling and excited, because Bren just laughed at her warmly and shook his head.

“I will see you soon, Beauregard. Good luck.” Bren drew a last line, and the circle pulsed with pale orange light. He gave her one last wave before stepping into the circle and vanishing. When the light faded, the circle was gone, and Beau stood at the gate alone.

After dinner that evening, Beau sat in her nightclothes at her desk, the letter from Yasha open before her. By candlelight, she read eagerly.

The first half of the letter was in response to Beau’s previous message. Yasha told Beau all about the happenings at her adoptive family’s estate and reassured Beau that she would go to Zadash in two weeks. She informed her of how boring the von Brandt household was without Beau there to keep her company.

The second half of the letter, however, was something Beau hadn’t expected. Yasha informed her she was extremely nervous about the trip to Zadash because of the party invitations she had received. The list of names she provided matched Beau’s exactly, and Yasha wrote that she didn’t know where to begin, as neither of them had done anything like this before. She asked if Beau received any similar invitations and inquired if she would attend any of the events as well.

Setting the letter from Yasha aside after she had finished reading it, Beau quickly opened the drawer beside her and pulled out the letters. She ripped them open one by one, scanning the contents. Though she cared little for this aspect of the family business, Beau knew quite a lot on each family involved. She liked to use that information against people, in quiet and ruthless fashion. It was extremely fun for her to watch from afar as things spiraled after her intervention.

Now, though, she could use this knowledge to ensure she and Yasha had most interesting evenings.

Grabbing paper and her quill, Beau penned a return letter for Yasha.

When Beau walked into her first gala as the heir to the Lionett estate, she was entirely underwhelmed.

It was beautiful, of course, but in such a gaudy way that flaunted wealth she couldn’t help but sneer at it. Ostentatious bouquets of flowers spilled over every surface and tables overflowed with foods that seemed far too posh to actually be consumed. Bubbling alcohol filled crystal glasses held in dainty hands, lending to the atmosphere. A quick sweep of the selection told Beau it was all far too expensive and hardly even the best selection.

A social event, catering to boot-licking rather than actual taste.

With a gusty sigh, Beau was at least grateful that she had ditched the dress her mother tried to palm off on her. Bren had come through for her and sent her the attractive grey suit she commissioned from the capital. It had been far too easy for Beau to sneak it into her luggage for this trip. The dress her mother thought Beau was wearing currently sat stuffed at the bottom of a chest in Beau’s room at the Pillow Trove.

Beau swiped up a glass of sparkling white wine from a server’s tray and tucked herself away near a pillar to survey the ballroom. Yasha would be here soon, so until then, Beau had to occupy herself with whatever everyone else was up to.

They had exchanged a few letters in the two weeks leading up to their trip to Zadash, debating which parties would be best to attend. Some nights overlapped, so they were not expected to accept every invitation. Beau knew her father would have loved to pick which galas his daughter should attend himself, but he seemed at least satisfied that Beau put interest into picking any at all. Thoreau probably thought that Beau was finally taking him and the business seriously.

She laughed into her wineglass at the notion.

“You seem happy,” a familiar voice spoke from over Beau’s shoulder.

Twisting to find Yasha behind her, Beau beamed at her oldest friend, smile bright and genuine. Yasha looked stunning in the fitted, floor-length black dress she wore, all but glowing in the party lighting. Beau blamed the sparkling wine for the bubbly feeling that overtook her. Stood beside Yasha, however, was a new face – one Beau instantly distrusted.

“This is Mollymauk,” Yasha said, seeming to read the flicker of confusion in Beau’s eye. “I met him last time we were in Zadash after you left.”

“Charmed,” Mollymauk said through a Cheshire grin, extending a tattooed hand her way. “Call me Molly.”

Beau grasped Mollymauk’s hand hesitantly, flicking a look to Yasha. She supposed that if Yasha trusted this stranger, he must be alright. Beau was surprised that a bright purple Tiefling, tattooed and in loud clothing, lived so plainly and unbothered in the middle of Zadash. From what she heard and read, Tieflings had quite the prejudice against them in the Empire. His starch white silk shirt and bright red embroidered coat that swept the floor did him no favors for blending in.

“Oh,” Mollymauk crooned, his solid red eyes narrowing at her with interest. “You’re the curious type, aren’t you?”

Beau felt her cheeks flush, and she yanked her hand back. “Fuck off.”

“You can really pick ‘em, Yasha,” Mollymauk cackled.

Yasha’s cheeks went pink as she nudged Mollymauk’s shoulder, muttering something to him under her breath. Whatever she said left Mollymauk grinning cheekily.

“Well,” Mollymauk said, clapping his hands together. “Shall I fetch us some drinks?”

Beau, her glass empty, shrugged as Yasha nodded and shooed the Tiefling off, her cheeks still flushed. With a sarcastic wave and a promise to return soon, Mollymauk was off. The baubles pierced into his horns clinked gently as he did.

“Yasha,” Beau groaned.

“He’s nice, I promise,” Yasha whispered. “He’s just...like that.”

“I noticed,” Beau grumbled, setting her empty wineglass on a passing server’s tray. “But I trust your judgment.”

Mollymauk returned with drinks for them all, and they threw them back rapidly, as party goers were wont to do. Beau knew there was no way she could get through this pompous event without copious amounts of alcohol and Yasha at her side. However, they had an image to maintain for their families so they could keep attending these parties. Mollymauk and Yasha traipsed off to a nearby cluster of individuals to make small talk while Beau headed another way.

“Truly, Lord Baumbach,” Beau sighed as she took a delicate sip of her wine. “The depths of the von Brandt’s betrayal have shaken my father’s faith. It’s hard to believe that they would do this after the years of friendship. It’s rather unfortunate their daughter is here as well. I was so looking forward to enjoying myself, but now I have to skirt her presence for fear of causing a scene.”

Beau sighed gustily and rubbed at her temples in faux distress, casting a dirty look at Yasha’s back for good measure. Thoreau had drilled Beau on numerous occasions regarding which families had taken their side in this whole ridiculous affair. She knew who to pander to in order to make it seem like she gave a shit. Beau also knew that Yasha was not one for starting or maintaining conversation with strangers, especially convincing false conversation. Instead, she let others around her bring the topic up and nodded along with them, letting them fill in the blanks.

As they reached the portion of the evening where everyone else seemed properly drunk, Beau ducked from the main ballroom to meet Yasha and Mollymauk out in the rear garden. In the privacy of the trellises, they fell into each other with laughter. Mollymauk had swiped two bottles of the better wines in attendance, and they had each brought their own glass from inside. When she was three drinks in, Beau let Yasha drag her to her feet and clumsily lead her through a waltz. As they stumbled through the assorted flowerbeds, Yasha grinning broad and brilliant, Beau let her lead as she stared in awe.

Yasha was radiant in the moonlight, the flowers woven into her white braids looked more alive as she spun Beau in circles. The moon caught against the gems of Yasha’s hairpiece and her skin near radiant in the dim. Beau could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. She figured it was probably the alcohol, but she could have sworn she tasted Yasha’s joy on her tongue from proximity alone.

When Yasha was satisfied with their dancing, they collapsed into each other on a nearby bench, breathless and giggling. By the time they were five drinks deep, Beau let down her defenses enough to get to know Mollymauk.

As it turned out, he was the co-owner of a small tavern on the outskirts of the Pentamarket. He directed the performances the establishment put on for entertainment and did tarot readings on the side. Readings which Beau promptly told him were bullshit to the melodic giggling of Yasha’s agreement.

“You wound me, both of you,” Mollymauk sighed dramatically, swirling his drink around in his glass airily. “Neither of you have even gotten a reading from me.”

“It’s still bullshit,” Beau chuckled, emptying her glass with a quick toss of her head. The carbonation burned up into her nostrils as it slid down her throat. She grit her teeth against it and scrunched her nose.

“Well,” Mollymauk said as he stood with far too much elegance for someone who had consumed as much alcohol as he had. “Me and my bullshit tarot have to be heading off. Some of us actually have to work for a living.”

Beau flipped him off as he gallantly waved goodbye to her and Yasha, a cheeky, wicked grin on his face.

“He’s very nice,” Yasha said, repeating herself from earlier, after he left. “It just takes some time for him to trust people.”

“He’s not that annoying, I guess,” Beau admitted, pouring the both of them another glass of wine.

“I expected this would be a lot more unbearable,” Yasha confessed after they were both halfway through their glasses. “But having you and Molly here made it kind of fun.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Beau said with a lazy grin against the rim of her glass. “I thought I was going to be trying to gouge out my eyes with the dessert spoons from boredom. Plus, pretending to hate you was vastly amusing. You should have seen Lord Baumbach’s face when I was putting on the dramatics.”

Beau mocked his expression, being as over-dramatic as possible to make Yasha laugh. Sure enough, Yasha tossed her head back with a loud laugh, the one that Beau was convinced only she got to see. As they settled more comfortably into the bench they had found hidden among the hedges, still laughing, Beau felt her breath catch in her chest when she looked at Yasha. Moonlight shone down on them from above, the sky cloudless and glittering with stars. The silver beams seemed to favor Yasha, highlighting her skin as a stark, gorgeous contrast to the rich darkness of her dress. The hair ornament Beau had helped her choose years ago still glittered in Yasha’s hair as she moved.

Yasha’s shoulder pressed against Beau’s as they fell in together. She was just as warm as Beau remembered from those years ago in the Pentamarket. Yasha still felt like home, a pleasant hum lingering in Beau’s veins.

That pull between her ribs, right beneath her heart, tugged to life again. Beau’s mouth went dry with the realization that she might be in love. She drained the last half of her glass, trying to ignore it.

As time marched on, Beau continued to attend parties in Zadash under her family’s name, and Yasha under her family’s. They made a game of sorts out of their public interactions. It became a source of entertainment for the pair, acting like they gave a shit about the well-known rivalry between their parents. They would glare at each other from across the room and make shallow remarks on each other's outfits, Mollymauk often goading them on. Once the party goers were too drunk to remember half the night, Beau and Yasha would sneak away to unoccupied portions of the party and laugh themselves silly. Sometimes Mollymauk would join them, somehow worming his way into Beau’s heart with his stupid charm.

The letters continued, all but a lifeline for Beau throughout the dreary days in Kamordah. Yasha never put her own name on the envelopes, merely addressed them to Beau and sent them on their way. Beau knew the familiar scrawl of Yasha’s hand by heart and always caught the mail at the door before either of her parents laid eyes on it.

As they grew and aged, that night of their first party together lingered in Beau’s memories. The feeling that had fluttered to life behind her ribs aged with her. Most days, any thought of Yasha sent the pattern of her heart into a flurry. Beau wasn’t so naïve that she was unaware of her blooming affection for Yasha, but she knew well enough to keep it under wraps. No matter how difficult that task became as time went on.

Aside from her correspondence with Yasha, Beau occupied her time siphoning and smuggling her father’s wine. She endured one too many rejections from him regarding how he might do better business – so she took matters into her own hands. It was working rather well for her so far; she just had to make sure she wasn’t caught.

It was far from what one might call a happy existence, but Beau made do with what she had at her disposal. She was running on luck and hoped to keep the charade going for a little longer.

Less than a week after her twenty-second birthday, however, her luck ran dry.

“Beauregard!” Thoreau’s voice echoed through the halls of the manor. “Come downstairs, now!”

There was an edge to his tone that Beau had learned to be wary of, so she sighed and put her things away. The letter she had been finishing was folded and tucked safely into the pocket of her dress. She stood and made her way downstairs, steps slow in an effort to delay the inevitable conversation looming.

The parlor was warmed by a large fire crackling in the hearth, but it did nothing to banish the heavy atmosphere. Her father’s expression was stony where he stood behind his tall-backed chair, hands planted on the crown. Her mother sat in her more modest chair, hands folded on her lap and back ramrod straight, the picture of dignity and grace. Beau could see her mother’s white knuckles, though, and was not fooled.

Sitting slowly on the edge of the chaise lounge, the rustle of her skirt too loud in the terse silence, Beau eyed her father across the coffee table. The tip of his nose was discolored, the corners of his eyes pinched, fingers tight against the top of his chair – all signs he was not in a good mood.

“Did you think you would get away with this stunt forever?” Thoreau’s voice was even, cold, and removed. “Did you think word wouldn’t get back to me, Beauregard?”

Her stomach twisted unpleasantly, and Beau fought to maintain a mask of innocence. He knew. She wasn’t sure if he knew about Yasha, about the parties, about the letters, or the wine – but either way, this was bad.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play games with me, Beauregard!” Thoreau snapped, coming round his chair with menacing strides. “You’ve been stealing product from me and making profit off it behind my back! I know you think you’re smart, but you aren’t. You’re clumsy and reckless. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten hurt, Beauregard! I don’t understand how you could be so selfish!”

Beau felt her jaw creak with the amount of force she clenched her teeth. She had expected her father would be upset if he ever found out what she was doing, but that didn’t mean his words hurt any less. These were all things she had heard before over the years for her petty rebellion. But at this age, trying desperately to make her own way, leave her own mark on the world, it stung more than usual.

“I had planned to send you to a monastery in the hopes they could whip you into shape. However, your mother has presented an alternative I think would be far better suited for grounding you in reality.”

“What are you talking about?” Beau repeated, her teeth grinding as she spoke.

“After the stunt you pulled with the Stassman’s a few years ago, we’ve been on even worse footing with them than ever,” Clara butted in, her tone firm. “But, graciously, and after much discussion, they’ve agreed that an alliance of union might benefit both our companies. Their son is only two years older than you, and endearingly polite and well-mannered.”

Beau stared at her mother, trying to piece together how the Stassman’s son had anything to do with her, before it clicked.

“You want me to marry him.” Beau’s mouth went dry, her ears ringing faintly with disbelief. Her parents said nothing, but their expressions made it clear she had guessed correctly. “I’ve never even met him!”

“Nonsense, you met him before,” Clara began, but Beau wasn’t having it.

“I was six years old, mother! He’s not the same person and neither am I! Can’t you just punish me like normal people instead of marrying me off because you don’t want to deal with me?”

“Beauregard!” Clara cried, expression crumpling with horror.

“How dare you speak to us that way!” Thoreau bellowed, taking a step closer to where Beau had lunged to her feet. “We have done nothing but provide the best for you, Beauregard. It is hardly our fault you decide to throw it all back in our faces and have a tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way!”

“It is so much more than that, and you know it!” Beau yelled back. “Don’t you dare try to make this all my fault!”

“The decision has been made, Beauregard,” Thoreau said venomously, glaring at his daughter over the coffee table between them. The short distance seemed like miles pulled taut over their furious tension. “Whether or not you like it, you will meet the Stassman’s son the week after our next trip to Zadash. I implore you to be on your best behavior, otherwise we will be forced to execute my solution instead.”

Beau went to retort, but found herself unable to speak. Rage and betrayal and incomprehensible hurt clogged her throat, eyes burning as she fought not to cry in front of her parents. With a mighty huff of exasperation, Beau turned and stormed back to her room. As she climbed the stairs, the letter she had written for Yasha, an attempt at baring her heart and affection for the woman, burned like a leaden weight in her pocket.

Perhaps it was not her parents’ wisest idea to let Beau go to Zadash after the explosive conversation they had. But above everything – even their daughter’s well-being – they prided themselves on maintaining face in the social scene. So Beau went to Zadash with her father and mother as planned. She was scheduled to attend a party halfway through their stay under the Lionett name while her father did business and her mother made house calls to old acquaintances.

Beau had written to Bren, begging him to spare a day for her and come visit in Zadash. She needed him now more than ever.

Yasha was to arrive the night before the party, and the last letter Beau had sent Yasha was before the disastrous conversation with her parents. It was strange walking into all of this, knowing Yasha didn’t have all the details.

Bren arrived the day before Yasha, looking worried and confused as he swept into her hotel room, but bearing what Beau had asked for. He pulled Beau into a fierce hug the moment they met and let her cry against his shoulder. When they finally parted, he asked her quietly for details.

Beau told him everything, her throat burning with a lump of emotion the entire time. He hugged her again when she was finished, firmer than before.

“So, is all of this why you asked me for this potion?”

“Yes,” Beau confessed as she rolled the bottle between her hands. It was warm to the touch, the thin red liquid sloshing easily within the confines. “It’ll work, right?”

“My colleague and his wife are the best alchemists I know,” Bren reassured her. “Yeza and Veth have been working with the Assembly and the Academy for years. If they say it will work, it will work.”

“Thank you, Bren,” Beau breathed, eyes wet with tears she was tired of shedding. “I owe you everything.”

“You owe me nothing,” Bren replied with a firm shake of his head. “You are my dearest friend, Beauregard. I would, and I will, do anything for you. Just promise to keep in touch, ja?”

“Always,” Beau swore immediately. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I would think not,” Bren chuckled. “I expect you to bring Yasha around to the capital sometime so I can actually meet her.”

“You’ll be a big shot by then,” Beau scoffed as she wiped at her eyes. “Will you even have time to spare for little old me?”

Bren laughed along with her, but drew her in for yet another hug. His hugs were warm, solid, and reassuring. Beau had never known her parents to hug her like this, let alone hug her at all. She soaked up every ounce of comfort she could get from Bren.

When he leaned back to cup her face in his hands, planting a quick kiss to the center of her forehead, Beau knew this was goodbye. Not forever, but for a while. If everything went according to her plan, they would be farther apart than they had ever been before in their lives. She would miss him more than anything. Beau had never been to Blumenthal, but her childhood was filled with memories of what it smelled like because it had always clung to Bren’s clothing. There were so many pieces of her scattered joy that connected back to him. To leave him behind would be one of the hardest things Beau ever had to do.

“Good luck, Beauregard,” Bren murmured. “I will see you on the other side.”

Beau corralled Yasha and Mollymauk hours before the party. She hustled them off to the Pentamarket, relying on the bustle of everyday life to provide them the cover they needed. If anyone overheard this plan of Beau’s, everything fell apart. She must have looked as frantic as she felt, because both her friends were eyeing Beau with obvious concern. Even the familiar buzz of the city underfoot failed to soothe her frazzled nerves.

“I’m going to die to tonight,” Beauregard said in hushed tones to her friends as they sat in the corner of a tavern. Not the greatest conversation starter, but to the point.

Mollymauk raised his brows in surprise, and Yasha immediately grabbed Beau’s hand, looking sick.

“Not, like, actually,” Beau rushed to amend. “But I just...I have this potion and—”

“Beau, darling,” Mollymauk interrupted. “Start from the beginning, why don’t you?”

He flicked a pointed look at Yasha’s haggard expression and Beau nodded, swallowing hard.

She explained the underground business she had been running with her father’s wine, the explosive conversation that had happened recently, the marriage her parents had planned without her. Beau told them about how tired she was of living like a lie and a disappointment, how she longed for freedom. She told them about her plans to run away to the Menagerie Coast, away from the clutches of her parents and the Empire – toward freedom.

“As impressed and proud as I am that you’ve orchestrated an underground smuggling chain,” Mollymauk said, leaned in close over the table. “How does all of this relate to you dying tonight?”

Beau unearthed the potion from Bren from her pocket, showing it to them briefly before tucking it away again.

“It will make it seem like I’ve died,” Beau explained. “The effects last for a day. My parents won’t travel with my body, I know that. If anything, they might try to find a cleric willing to attempt bringing me back if they’re desperate enough to see this marriage through. There’s a small catacomb just outside the city where people can either bury or hold their deceased until they’re ready to return home for a formal burial. I’ll likely be there when the potion wears off.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’, Beau,” Mollymauk warned, his solid red eyes concerned. “This seems very risky.”

“It is,” Beau agreed, twisting her fingers together on the table. “But I’m willing to try. Especially if it means freedom, if it means I get to live my life the way I want to live it.”

“Alright,” Mollymauk said after a pregnant pause. “So in true dramatic fashion, you’re going to collapse at the party tonight?”

“My parents can’t claim I’ve run off and ruined their legacy if I have a ballroom full of witnesses to my demise.”

Mollymauk tapped his nose, looking begrudgingly impressed.

“I’m assuming you want Yasha and I to be at the catacombs to help you out of the city after, yes?”

“Only if you want to,” Beau breathed, offering them the chance to be as uninvolved as possible.

“How dare you assume I wouldn’t want to be involved in something as dramatic as this,” Mollymauk simpered. “Especially since I could drop hints and started a rumor about a certain family, one I happen to be well-acquainted with, who manages a graveyard. A family that, say, might provide enough time to get into contact with to let you slip away under cover of night.”

“You’re an asshole and a genius, Mollymauk,” Beau grinned, reaching over to punch his shoulder.

“Thank you, darling,” Mollymauk chuckled. His eyes subtly flicked to Yasha before he stretched and sighed overtly. “Well, I’m off to prepare for a dramatic night of festivities. I’ll see you two at the gala, then?”

With that, Mollymauk swept from the bar, and Yasha and Beau were left alone. Beau’s thoughts were slightly off-kilter, swirling with the ‘probably’ and ‘maybe’ to every thread of her plan. Her head was a messy jumble of attempting to find any detail she might have not considered.

“Yasha?” Beau asked after a heavy moment of quiet, forcefully pulling her mind back to the moment. “Are you okay?”

Yasha drew in a shaky breath, held it, then pushed it out in one, great puff.

“I understand why you’re doing this, why you have to do this,” Yasha whispered, reaching out to grab Beau’s hand again. “But...what if something goes wrong? Beau, what if you don’t wake up? Is this really the only way?”

“No,” Beau shook her head, turning her hand so they could braid their fingers together. Her veins were buzzing like they might catch fire between the hum of the city and the warmth of Yasha’s skin. She fought to stay sane and steady. “There are definitely other ways. But this is the one that guarantees I won’t have my parents after me for the rest of my life. I know it’s...a lot. And I know it’s risky. But I think I’m desperate enough to try.”

“What about...?” Yasha trailed off, biting her lip and looking away. Beau squeezed her hand and thought, fuck it.

“I know it’s scary, Yasha,” Beau whispered. “And I know this is probably the worst timing ever, but...” Beau pulled the letter from her pocket and held it out to Yasha. Her fingers were trembling.

“You don’t have to read it now,” Beau was quick to say, acutely aware of the moment her cheeks flushed pink. “Or ever, actually. I wrote that before everything went to shit, and now it’s just a letter full of things I want you to know after tonight.”

Yasha stared at the letter for a long moment before she looked up at Beau again. Beau fidgeted under her stare before gusting out a great sigh and moving to get up.

“Well, I’ve got a few things I need to get in order before tonight. I’ll see you at the party, okay?” She waited for Yasha to nod, but she looked so worried and pained that Beau paused. Putting her hands firmly on the table, Beau leaned in close until Yasha looked her in the eye. The magnetic shock when Yasha’s mismatched irises locked on Beau nearly took Beau’s knees out from under her. The buzz in her veins sparked and caught fire. She swallowed against the smoke that dried out her throat and kept her voice as steady as possible.

“Yasha, remember. No matter what happens, or what it looks like, I’m going to be okay.”

Asymmetric eyes bore into Beau for a suspended moment, somehow both weightless and grounding all at once.

“I believe you, Beau,” Yasha whispered. For all that she still looked terrified, Beau trusted her.

The party was just like every other gala Beau had attended over the years. It was entirely too pompous, populated with Wildemount’s snootiest, and perhaps one of the most tedious events Beau could possibly imagine wasting time at. She was so nervous about everything planned that she barely had the leftover presence of mind to keep up her act with Yasha. They exchanged only a handful of false distaste, and Beau could only hope it added to the idea that she wasn’t well before she collapsed.

At some point in the evening, when she surfaced from her worrying for a moment, Beau really took Yasha in from across the room. She wore a deep, midnight blue dress, fitted and long and accented with silver. As always, Yasha looked stunning.

She also had the flower hairpin among her braids. For some reason, that fact left Beau choked up.

Mollymauk – bless his dumb heart – stuck near Beau most of the night, keeping idle conversation. It served as a temporary distraction, but Beau was too on edge to do more beyond nod every now and again.

The night was about half over when Beau decided she had drawn this out long enough.

She exchanged a look with Mollymauk, and something far more serious than she was ever used to seeing crossed his expression. He gave her a nod, a quick squeeze to her elbow, and then she excused herself to the bathroom.

A horrible, ornate mirror hung above the sink, and Beau stared at her reflection for a long moment. Her mother had powdered Beau’s face before she left. Some of it hadn’t entirely blended in and now clung to the tip of Beau’s nose. Her hair was styled neatly, a tight braided bun sitting high on her head. She hadn’t put up a fight when her mother helped her into a pale blue dress with a lace-up back. In any context, Beau was beautiful – the perfect picture of a young heiress poised in a social scene. There was a pinch around Beau’s eyes, however, that betrayed her stress. She hoped it made her look like she was sick or in pain to further sell her act.

With a brief hesitation, pushing down all of her inhibitions so she didn’t back out, Beau produced the bottle from her dress pocket. With a sound pop, she uncorked the bottle. Beau toasted her reflection and muttered under her breath, “to freedom.”

She downed the contents in two quick gulps.

With quick motions, Beau washed out the residue in the bottle under the faucet and hid the bottle beneath the vanity. She didn’t want any evidence on her person later.

Emerging from the bathroom, Beau made her way back toward the ballroom. She had just walked up to Mollymauk when her throat started feeling dry. Coughing into her elbow, trying to clear her throat, Beau waved away the concerned looks she got from the couple Mollymauk was speaking to. Her reassurance came out hoarse and did nothing to persuade anyone.

After a minute of barely tracking conversation, Beau registered the discomfort in her chest. Her heart felt too big for her ribs and her lungs too small. She struggled to draw in enough air. There were spots dancing in front of her eyes, and coughing did nothing to help. Even Mollymauk looked genuinely concerned as one of the surrounding party goers flagged down a server for water. Instinctually, Beau started to seek out Yasha, eyes flitting with wild panic.

Mollymauk wrapped a careful hand around her elbow right before the potion truly kicked in.

Her stomach and throat seized as one, and Beau couldn’t hold back the strangled gasp that fled from her. The edges of her vision quickly faded to grey, her heart pounding in her ears with a rapid ringing. Beau was frightened for a horrible, conscious second that she might actually be dying. But she trusted Bren. Through the haze in her head, Beau tried to reassure herself she would be okay. The thought didn’t do much to comfort her when it felt like her lungs were disconnected from her throat.

Mollymauk’s face loomed above her in tunnel vision, his expression pinched with worry and panic as he called Beau’s name. She couldn’t hear him over the pounding in her ears, but she watched his lips shape the word.

Beau fumbled for his hand, fell short, and rapidly succumbed to darkness.

Yasha.

When we met as children in the Pentamarket, I never could have imagined what our friendship would become. You’ve been a constant companion, a loyal pen pal, and my most trusted friend.

Lately, you make me nervous. My heart starts racing when you look at me, when you smile at me, when you laugh, when you reach for me. Everything about you brings me joy and makes me feel like I’m flying.

Truthfully, I think I realized I had feelings for you when we went to that first party in Zadash together. You were wearing this beautiful black dress and you had flowers in your braids, and that hairpin we picked out. We pretended to hate each other, and then slipped away to laugh our asses off about it. I remember the way you looked in the moonlight, and I think that’s when I figured it out.

I know my father said we should never interact with your family again, but you know how much I like to piss him off. Someday soon, if this letter of mine doesn’t scare you off, would you like to go on a proper, public date with me?

If you would rather just continue our friendship, you can toss this letter and forget you ever read it. But these secrets were building up in my heart, and getting too heavy to carry on my own. If I ever find the courage to give you this letter, I hope you’ve read this far. Maybe it means I have a chance.

Always yours,

Beau

The first thing that registered was a distant murmur of voices from nearby. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, her brain feeling as if someone had stuffed it with cotton, but she heard them. Her mouth was unbelievably dry, her tongue like weighted sand paper for how much effort it took to move it.

She must have made some noise or movement, because suddenly a pair of hands pressed against her cheeks.

Her ears rung faintly, scarcely able to hear past it, as the murmurs turned into muffled tones. She needed to tell them she couldn’t fucking understand them.

Beau thought she grunted, or she tried to. It registered finally that she needed to open her eyes.

Blinking against the dry, grittiness that all but glued her eyelids shut, everything appeared blurry and dark at first. She kept blinking, trying to clear her vision and wondering just how long she had slept. The hands on her cheeks were warm, familiar, and gentle. Beau grasped for a memory, a reason she felt like this.

It all clicked back into place moments later. Terror seized her chest, and she fumbled for the hand at her cheek. There was a horrifying moment she worried it belonged to one of her parents – that her plan failed.

“Beau,” a quiet voice, warbled with emotion. “I’m here, you’re okay.”

Her vision finally shifted into focus, the ringing in her ears subsided enough that she made out some words. Every movement registered as sluggish and disconnected, but she was awake. Beau knew she was alive, and Yasha leaned over her – real and whole. Her beautiful, mismatched eyes shone wet with tears but sparkled brightly with relief.

Beau burst into sobs.

Yasha levered Beau upright and gathered her to her chest. Beau all but melted into Yasha’s embrace, desperate for any sort of validation that she was alive, that she almost had her freedom.

When they both regained some composure, Yasha filled Beau in on the past twenty-four hours. Over Yasha’s shoulder, Beau saw Mollymauk keeping careful watch at the mouth of the catacombs. The stone chambers were freezing, Beau dressed only in a white funeral gown. Yasha turned her back for Beau to change into the breeches and cotton shirt they brought for her as she spoke.

“You were right about your parents,” Yasha murmured as Beau tugged the shirt over her head. Someone had removed Beau’s braided up-do from the party, because her hair now fell in brushed out waves over her shoulders. “They’re trying to get in contact with the family Molly knows. They’re trying to bring you back.”

Yasha didn’t tell her what her family’s reason was, she wasn’t even certain Yasha knew. But Beau guessed it probably had something to do with her impending marriage to the Stassman boy. Beau resolutely stopped thinking about it.

“Did anyone say it was poison?” Beau asked as she wound her hair up into a loose bun.

“No,” Yasha shook her head. Beau caught sight of the flower hairpin still tucked among her braids. Her heart pulled weakly in her chest. “Most don’t know what to think. From the outside, it looked like you choked on air.”

There was a tremor to Yasha’s voice that Beau decided she hated. She finished tugging on her boots and moved to place a hand on Yasha’s arm. The taller woman turned to face Beau, her expression pained.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Beau whispered. “I’m sorry I put you through it.”

Yasha reached out and brushed the backs of her fingers down Beau’s cheek, slow and reverent.

“You looked right at me before you collapsed…and then you just went limp in Molly’s arms.” Yasha pushed out a shaky sigh, flipping her hand around to cup Beau’s cold cheek in her warm palm. “I’m just glad you’re alive. I knew you weren’t really dead, but you looked it.”

Yasha paused as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I read your letter.”

Beau’s heart skipped a beat. Oh gods.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Beau,” Yasha whispered, her other hand coming up to cup Beau’s other cheek. “I would love that more than anything.”

“Really?” Beau’s voice came out strangled.

“Really,” Yasha promised, her eyes drinking in every inch of Beau’s face. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Beau pressed from her lungs. If she didn’t know any better, she might think she was about to black out again.

Yasha stooped to press their lips together, Beau wrapping her fingers in a clinging embrace around Yasha’s wrists. It did little to ground her, but Beau felt she might float away if she let go. She thought the hum under her skin from mere proximity to Yasha had been unbearable, but actually kissing her left Beau feeling like she was dissolving. Every new, desperate press of Yasha’s lips against Beau’s only stoked the flame building behind Beau’s ribs, only magnified the buzz. One of Yasha’s hands slid to cup the base of Beau’s neck, tugging her closer as Beau released Yasha’s wrist to wind an arm around her waist instead. Beau leaned her weight into Yasha and trusted her to not let Beau fall.

This was a kiss years in the making, a confession built in the secret cavity beneath their hearts. This was a forbidden embrace, a love story banned by families too petty and proud to have a conversation. Yet they persisted and persevered against all odds.

This sensation was like stepping into the hum of Zadash for the first time again, then dialed up until it consumed her senses.

Yasha moved her other hand to wrap around Beau’s waist to all but pick her up. Beau wrapped both arms around Yasha’s neck and pressed up to her toes. She felt like she would never need to breathe air again with the way Yasha’s attention to her lips made her feel alive.

Distantly, Beau heard Mollymauk say something about needing to leave. She ignored him, and Yasha did, too. Yasha’s arms only tightened around Beau’s waist, and Beau couldn’t help the way she smiled into Yasha’s kiss. She didn’t feel like she was on fire anymore – Beau felt like she was fire.

Mollymauk’s hand was on Beau’s arm, insistent. But Beau wasn’t finished with Yasha yet. This was probably the last Beau would see of Yasha for who knew how long. She was going to get every second possible out of this kiss if it killed her. She was going to memorize every last dip and divot of Yasha’s frequency even if it drove her mad. Beau wanted to take the imprint of the city and this woman with her when she left.

Her chest was flush against Yasha’s by the time they broke apart, gasping for air. Beau’s toes were still barely on the ground for all that Yasha was clinging to her. Molly stood a few paces away, a bag on each shoulder and looking fond but impatient.

“If you’re quite done,” he drawled. “We shouldn’t linger much longer.”

“Fuck off, Molly,” Beau groused. But Yasha released her with gentle motions, pressing a lingering kiss to Beau’s forehead. Beau hugged Mollymauk fiercely for all they both acted annoyed and whispered her thanks to him against his shoulder. He didn’t reply, but Beau knew he heard her by the way his arms tightened around her waist.

They fled the catacombs in the darkness, breathless and giddy with their success. The catacombs were on the outskirts of the west end of the Innerstead Sprawl, the grassy slopes surrounding it giving way to winding cobblestone. Mollymauk lead them as they went, keeping to shadows with their heads down and eyes roaming for signs of others who might see them. The hour was late, however, and this part of the city was quiet. Despite the sleepy crawl, Beau could still sense Zadash’s energy buzzing underfoot.

As they came upon the Outersteads, Yasha split off down a wide alley and unhitched two horses from a post. Mollymauk reached into one pack and produced a dark cloak. He stepped up to Beau and tossed it over her shoulders, fastening the clasp when he noticed her trembling hands. As he reached to pull the hood over Beau’s head, Yasha grabbed the second pack from Mollymauk. Beau’s confusion must have been obvious because Mollymauk chuckled at her fondly.

“Yasha, are...” Beau looked between Mollymauk and Yasha. “Are you coming with me? What about your family?”

Yasha pressed her fingers to Beau’s cheek beneath her hood. “I’m coming with you. After the party…I gave it some thought, but I realized I already knew what I wanted. I want to go with you. The world is out there and I want to see it, too. I can’t think of anyone better to do it with.”

“Yasha...” Beau’s voice came out wobbly, but she didn’t care.

“You two are so cute it’s going to make me sick,” Mollymauk sighed. But he pulled Yasha down to press a kiss to her forehead, then turned and did the same to Beau. “Take care of each other, send me lots of letters.”

“As annoying as you are,” Beau grumbled through the tears on her cheeks. “I’m going to miss you, Molly. I’ll write as often as I can.”

Yasha placed steadying hands on Beau’s waist, helping her swing up into the saddle of one horse. She handed Beau the reins before turning to give Mollymauk a firm squeeze of a hug. He held Yasha’s horse steady as she mounted, turning to Beau as he passed off the reins.

“You shouldn’t have any trouble getting out of the city. There’s guards posted at the main gate on the south wall, but they’re more concerned with people entering than leaving. Once you’re past the gate, urge the horses to run. You should have enough distance between this city and you by dawn. Keep your hood up and you’ll be fine.”

Beau and Yasha nodded, thanking Mollymauk quietly as they pushed their horses into a slow walk. He went alongside them for a while, still keeping an eye out.

“You said you were thinking about heading to the Menagerie Coast?” Mollymauk asked, to which Beau nodded. “I’ve got friends there, so I sent a letter ahead of you letting them know you might come find them. Jester and Fjord – both of them are good people. Look for a place called the Lavish Chateau in Nicodranas, you can find Jester there. They’ll help you get settled.“

“Thank you, Molly,” Beau said, looking down at the purple Tiefling who had grabbed hold of her heart. “For everything. We owe you.”

“Just invite me down to your seaside manor sometime and we can call it even,” Mollymauk grinned, patting Beau’s knee.

With a final, whispered farewell, Beau and Yasha left Mollymauk to wind his way back to the streets of the Pentamarket. Keeping their horses set at a brisk walk took all of Beau’s self-control. She wanted nothing more than to dig her heels in and take off into the night. The city still buzzed through her veins, as did the lingering fire brought on by Yasha’s kiss. But she held back as the southern gate loomed before them. As Mollymauk had said, the Crownsguard stood on the outside of the open gate, keeping silent sentinel. They scarcely spared them a second glance as the horses trotted out of the city.

It felt anticlimactic for all of Beau’s previous planning – but she forgot about it all as she took in the sprawling landscape before them.

They got about a hundred feet away before Beau exchanged a breathless, giddy grin with Yasha.

“Ready?” Yasha asked, her fingers visibly tightening around the reins of her horse.

“Ready,” Beau breathed.

She kicked her heels into her horse’s side, calling out an adrenaline tremulous, “hiyah!”

The horses took off into the night. The wind pushed Beau’s hood from her face, the air a rushing embrace billowing through her cloak. Her horse’s hooves pounded with a rhythmic thud against the earth, reverberating through Beau’s bones. It sounded like freedom and felt like flying. The buzz was still pulsing through her, but it was different now. Yasha’s distinct humming presence still lingered beneath her skin, but Zadash’s buzz was gone. This new feeling was a thrum, a steady rhythm she could only compare to the heartbeat of Exandria, welcoming her. This truly felt like magic.

Yasha’s delighted laughter reached Beau’s ears over the rushing wind. Beau tipped her head back, closing her eyes as she breathed in deeply.

The rest of her life lay ahead.

#cr #writing #my writing #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha #mollymauk #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #bren aldric ermendrud #veth brenatto #jester lavorre #caduceus clay #fjord #this story ended my life

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twisted-imagines · 4 years

Note

Hello! I know someone has done a similar request to this on another blog but I was curious on your interpretation: how do you think the Leech brothers and Azul would react to having a crush or a SO that REALLY likes seafood, maybe even a particular fondness to eel or octopus dishes? (My personal favorite is squid n salmon 🐙🐟) Feel free to do whatever format you think would work best for this request!

I personally don't eat seafood much so it may be inaccurate, but I had fun with this one~ Scenario part is about eating their animal counterpart🤭 My attempt at comedy. Why did it turn to horror with Floyd though?

Maybe someday I will stop to just randomly go MIA. Maybe.

Octavinelle and a s/o who loves seafood

Jade Leech 🐬

"I promised you the sight, here it is, [Y/n]."

You pant heavily, supporting yourself with hands on your knees, for a minute all you can think about is calming down your breath, but a burning pain in your throat severely hinders your attempts to. Somehow a guy who was born in the sea and never left it before a few years ago can climb higher and faster than you, and you've lived your whole life with your legs. You feel like your skull is squeezing down on you, putting an immense pressure on your brain.

"My my, someone really needs to exercise more. How about joining the Mountain Appreciation Club, [Y/n]? We could do mountaineering more often and build up your stamina?"

You are about to tell him that he'd better kill you now than make you suffer another climb, but once you lift up your head up words die in your throat. Jade sure kept his promise, the sight before you is majestic.

He told you there is a lake somewhere behind that hill and that flora and fauna there is diverse and rich, but what he didn't mention is just how beautiful it is. Untouched, lush greenery, flowers of all colors of rainbow scattered across all the glade that sway to the wind, strive to reach the sun. The horizon is just a straight green line, with mighty trees towering over a pristine blue lake in the middle of this small haven. You can't look at the water for too long, bright sun rays it reflects blind you immediately.

You notice that your head no longer hurts and you can freely breathe in the fresh air, clear of foul smells that people bring when they flock together. But here it's just you, Jade and wild inhabitants of this sanctuary.

"It's beautiful."

"I expected you to enjoy this place. I'm glad my prediction was right. Feel free to explore it, I've made sure that there're no creatures that might hurt you. Before the sun starts to set, enjoy yourself."

You leave your gear and backpack behind and stride forward, having half a mind to take off your shoes and feel for yourself spangled with dew, glistening under the sun bright green grass. You briefly turn to Jade who is still standing behind, seemingly not turned his gaze away from you. He sends a small smile your ways and nods his head encouragingly as if knowing what thought visited your head. You are positive you've never felt so close to nature and to Jade too.

You can't possibly notice, you're already way ahead, touching the water with your leg, retreating when you realize it's too cold for you, keep trying anyway, but the smile does not leave Jade's lips, it grows wider the more he observes you. He can't tell you yet, but the feelings he harbors for you make his heart sing, they are not like anything he's felt before. Oh, how he wishes he could go out with you like this, spend time together without any care in the world, see you smile and look only at him. But things like confessions and relationships need careful planning, he can't possibly let himself be sloppy when it comes to you. Jade is patient, he can wait until that time comes.

"[Y/n], there are lots of different plants and fungi, unique to this area. I go search for them, can I leave setting a camp to you?"

"No problem, go do what you need to do, Mushroom Boy.”

He can't even be mad at you, what a lucky human.

When a noise of someone's footsteps adds to the singing of birds, with cicadas whining and creaking of a bonfire near you mixed in, you know that's it's your companion who's finally returned. Although you stay focused on your task, heat from the fire makes it tempting to turn away,but you just raise your voice to greet him.

"Took you long enough, Jade! I've had time to set camp and to fish! Look, I caught all of these myself!"

Jade approaches you from behind, ready to apologize for his absence, but before he can the sight in his peripheral vision takes away his speech. The fish you have caught and skewered to put above the fire is certainly not what he expected to see. Not what he has ever wanted to see you do.

"[Y/n], I humbly request you to put this poor thing aside or go eat it somewhere a few meters away from me or I might not forgive you for slaying technically one of my kind."

You force yourself to stay in place before you can possibly turn and face himself. You're not ready to look death in the eyes. And the day was just starting to look great, how miserable.

• If his brother at least has a bigger pet peeve than cooked eels, Jade hates seeing eels being prepared as food the most. Like always, you can't tell from looking at his face, but he's furious on the inside. He can't police what you eat and it's not like few humans consume eels. Still, he doesn't want his s/o eating his animal equivalent, even though it can't possibly have the same self-awareness or intelligence that he possesses as a merman. If you insist and don't try to at least hide it from him, expect some petty Jade in the days following. You don't want to comply and listen to his wishes? Then neither does he, he will find a way to annoy you while staying as classy as ever.

• But when it does not concern eels or their distant relatives Jade is all about you exploring sea cuisine, he himself will never miss a chance to partake in some seafood as well. He smirks when he learns that you also share a common love for octopuses. You understand, right? Not only they are tasty-looking while alive, but cooked and seasoned they're just the best. Cue a distressed Azul hiding from both of you in his VIP room.

• When Monstro Lounge was still new Azul really needed someone both skilled and trusted on the kitchen, Jade became both. He will gladly cook something for you and his cooking is amazing. His dishes and how they taste is everything you've ever wanted from your dinner. Can he also cook for you in the morning and in the evening? Jade says that he should have a very important reason to stay with you for the whole day and to live with you... If your fixation with seafood, sea creatures, and the way he prepares them makes you think about becoming more serious about your relationships, particularly starting them or bringing them to a new stage if you two are not quite there yet, Jade won't mind. He always reminds you he's there for you whenever you may need him.

• If Monstro Lounge menu is to undergo a change you're one of the first to taste any new seasonal dish, made by either of brothers, however, Jade usually prefers to take care of you himself, no matter if you're at the cafe as his friend, quote-unquote crush, of just as a customer. If he has to appeal to your taste buds first for you to consider him a suitable mate Jade will try his best for sure.

Floyd Leech🦈

"Thank you, Rook, I really appreciate it!"

"Don't mention it, Trickster! My humble persona is always ready to help you and hunting just happens to be my specialty. Until later!"

Capricious male from Pomefiore runs away faster than you can question whether fishing and hunting are the same, but at least he helped you out. Your boyfriend doesn't get along with him at all, but to your thought Rook is not a bad man. Or maybe you just have a thing for flamboyant people.

You reminisce about how you recently commented on the college's cafeteria lack of fish dishes you loved so much, only for the male to overhear it and offer you a whole basket of different sea dwellers today. You aren't sure if some of them can be even found in locations of NRC or near it, not to mention actually having it be caught and delivered to you. And for a small price of "remembering his good deed". Shady deals are pretty much a part of your life at this point, but you are sure this particular one won't sit right with Floyd. Well, not like he should know about it anyway.

You get to the task at hand, it is preparing all the goodies that you got. Clams and oysters, crabs and lobsters, mackerel, salmon, squids, and several other creatures, some that you don't recognize at all. You know you will be having a blast both preparing all of this and then eating! Your evening promises to be amazing.

"Oh, it smells so good! [Y/n], is there any tuna? Say there is!"

"I believe I see some! We're having a feast today, Grim!"

With an excited mewl following you to the kitchen you place the basket on the countertop with a small thud. It's cold to touch and permits no smell that fish usually gives off. You're as unfamiliar with magic as one can get in this world and Rook knows about it just as well as the next Heartslabyul student. Pretty considerate of him to cast some cooling spell on it. But you will be doing everything with your own hands from this point, just like you always do. Apron in place, sleeves of your shirt rolled up. When fleeting Ramshackle dorm somebody left the knives too, you take the one that you sharpened prior. Time to get started!

"[Y/n]! It's the best! My lovely, tasty tuna! Let's dig in!"

Salmon's pale orange meat easily pierced by a fork, an alluring aroma of spices surrounds you, you place it in your mouth and it basically melts there, leaving a unique aftertaste. You've missed it. You are no chef, but your skills are enough to cook the dishes you've eaten countless times already. It's due to thank Rook for the amazing evening. Nothing can make it better at this point.

"Shrimpy, I'm home! Did you miss me? I missed you~ What a tasty smell-"

Faster than you can take another bite, Floyd bursts into the dorm, making a beeline straight to the kitchen, lead by the scent of your cooking. You've forgotten, haven't you? Elated about the perspective of finally partaking into your favorite dishes once again after the long while, you forgot about inviting your boyfriend altogether. Caught red-handed; or more like open-mouthed. Floyd stops right before the dining table, watches intently first your dinner, then you. You slowly put the food back on the plate, your nervous chuckle fills the awkward pause, before your unexpected guest stars to talk again.

"Whatcha doing here Shrimpy? Eating? Why not come to Monstro Lounge? Why not welcome me?"

Hit with the string of questions, put under the pressure by the deadpan gaze he is giving you while still upholding that carefree smile of his, you hurry to the cupboard to bring Floyd a plate. The male has already leisurely taken his place behind the table. Back turned to him, you don't feel like you can be rescued from this situation, or at least pardoned from giving him some sort of answer. You know pretty well how badly Floyd handles separation and boredom, since entering these relationships you've become his first and most welcome relief from both of those feelings. Being excluded from your life is rather upsetting for him.

By the time you sit back the grey cat, your only other companion in the dorm is nowhere to be seen.

"I was just about to call you. It's been a long time I have eaten any of these, got a little carried away. Sadly, Monstro Lounge has little of things I like, and I already tasted everything I could."

Listening to your rambling with a placid smile, Floyd hasn't said a thing, only hummed twice, commenting on how he is usually the one preparing you all the dishes at the cafe and now it is his turn to taste your cooking. You hope that the sigh you let out is not visible, the stress instilled by the awkwardness of the situation you got into is slowly draining from your body, making your movements lighter, calmer. A hard contrast to Floyd, who seemingly didn't move one inch in his seat, continuing to observe you.

"And where did you even get all of these tasty creatures from, Shrimpy?"

You hurriedly bring some piece of meat from the variety of dishes you prepared to your mouth to and bite into it, your words muffled and hurried. You did nothing wrong so why does it feel like an interrogation?

"O-oh, my friends gave me this basket, I'm very grateful to them-"

You don't manage to finish your sentence.

"Ah, Shrimpy~ Lying to me, not welcoming me to dinner and now eating one of my kind...

You really want to get at me for something, don't you?"

• Perceives you eating eel dishes as a personal attack, Floyd will make you stop at any cost if he sees you eating one. He's peeved at the sight and starts to think back to things he could have done to you that made you angry with him, or reasons for you to trying to start a fight, you're basically eating him! He doesn't fear a Shrimp like you, but the sight is unnerving him.

• But Floyd does share your fondness for seafood, it's the only food he has eaten for most of his life after all! Monstro Lounge has a wide variety of fish dishes and he will gladly prepare anything to you as long as it's in their stock. And he's a pretty great cook too! And utterly the worst to eat with, he'll annoy you so by taking away your utensils and feeding you himself until you'll eventually either lose a nerve or burst from embarrassment. While Floyd generally loves eating what you prepare, he especially looks forward to you cooking sea creatures, not only for the taste but also to see how a land dweller usually eats them, what kind of recipes you have.

• Will cook some squid or octopus at Monstro Lounge, just before the closing, a time during Azul always goes out of the VIP room to supervise the cafe, and then share it with you, praising the taste and smell all the while, looking at his friend straight into the eyes, searching for a reaction. Encourages you to do so too. It will not end without furious Azul chastising laughing Floyd, and depending on if you like to join your boyfriend in his pranks, then you too.

• If you did something to upset him, but not enough for him to argue with you, expect to see Floyd order a handful of shrimps and eat them in a simultaneously gross and intimidating way. Does he want to threaten you? You don't know if you should be scared that he's eating "you", angry that he wastes food instead of talking with you or amused by his childishness.

• If you happen to be somewhere near the lake or sea, where there are sure lots of fish, Floyd will hunt some for you. Two birds with one stone: he gets to see you happy and hear you thank and praise him, and he can spend some time in the water, trading human legs for his dear tail and fins. Fishermen hate him, he catches what he needs, but all other fish swims away, scared.

Azul Ashengrotto🐙

"It sure is busy during this time of the year."

You have to grab your boyfriend's hand tighter, afraid to lose him in the raucous crowd that is so hell-bent on pushing you from side to side. Merchants touting passers-by to look at their stands, food stalls and crowds that get drawn to them, why would you want to get a picture with this monkey, no, children happy to ditch their parents and go run amok and you don't want to get started on the unbearable heat, today is unusually hot. Most of your vacation with Azul has been calm and relaxed, you greatly enjoyed yourself, resting under the shadows, once or twice nearly lulled into sleep by the tranquil sound of waves hitting the shore. The most action you got was when you showed off your new swimwear to Azul and when you had to catch the sandal that almost got taken by the sea, so this commotion is tiring you exceedingly fast. The only upside is that Azul is still by your side, his company definitely the best part of this small getaway you have.

"It is, yes... But it is to be expected, especially from the main street. Wavecrest Neptunalia is one of the few holidays that merfolk and humans share and come together to celebrate, each on their own land. It's a festival dedicated to praising the sea so there bound to be a lot of "sea gifts" for you to eat too."

He goes on a little rant about the origin, customs, traditions, and so on. You only know just how stunning he looks. You get little chance in the college to see him wear less fabric or express himself so freely, you don't even have that much time to be with him at all, damned be responsibilities of dorm leaders, extra curriculum and other crap. Doesn't Azul not handle hot weather well himself? He's a bit red in the face, and a few loose silver strands have stuck to his forehead, but otherwise, he seems very upbeat. You like that look on him.

When he expectantly turns in your direction you do not show you've been preoccupied with looking at him, rather than listening, although some parts did get through to you.

"You sure did your homework, Azul."

"I always do my homework- Ah... Yes, it's our first trip and you would have no way knowing about it, I wanted to give you the insight."

Isn't he the most adorable and loving man in the whole Twisted Wonderland? To you he is. He may have his own hang-ups, but you love him whole, you can't not to. You smile warmly at him and squeeze his hand, he may overheat if you try to do more while in public, you can deduce as much from the way his face reddens profusely at such small gestures.

"I appreciate it, thank you."

To turn back your head to the street, just in time to notice the sign of some rather intriguing looking restaurant. Perfect, you get to hide from both people and less than nice weather and also eat!

"Well then, you mentioned "sea gifts" - I want to try them, let's find someplace to eat! This one looks interesting."

The interior is styled with a lot of sea motives, the main attraction, a huge barracuda skeleton, hanging from the ceiling. You notice Azul looking around, in the end being pretty unimpressed, humans design and decoration abilities did not meet his expectations. Despite that both you and he find yourself shocked by the diversity the menu is offering. You make a mental note to make sure you walk out of this place on your two, and not rolled out by Azul in a form of a happy, big ball.

"Dear, you know what to order, I must excuse myself. Don't get bored."

He sends you a smirk, before disappearing into the general direction of the restroom. But look at this menu, they even have a separate page for every creature, crazy...

By the time Azul returned you have already made an order, waiting time passes unnoticed, you're too engrossed into your chat, discussing with Azul nothing in particular, you believe you could enjoy being silent with him. You don't mind it when your boyfriend goes quiet when your first dish is served to you.

"Octopus carpaccio, huh, [Y/n]."

You look shocked, like a guilty puppy. Only a sigh follows suit from him. He did forget octopus was nearly the first in the list of your most favorite seafood. You sure do love his kind, no matter the form they come in, he's the prime example. Azul catches himself on the thought that all people dear to him are either octopuses or love to eat them, no in-between. He wonders whether there's some kind of odd curse cast upon him. His businessman smile takes place on his face.

"How about a deal? You won't notice me eating this fried chicken later and I'll pretend this one never happened too?"

• Azul is unfortunately used to be the butt of jokes about eating his animal form, all credits to Leech twins, he's also well aware of how popular octopus dishes are in general among people, mer or not. He's rather chill with you liking to eat something made of his animal counterpart, but no matter how distanced he feels from his merman form he gets nervous at the sight of you eating those dishes, of anyone really eating them before him, and he gets more agitated if you taunt him with it. His hands are full with two eels, he doesn't need you teasing him too, no matter how lighthearted it is.

• Is it deep-fried? Yes? Then Azul loves it. No? He won't see the allure, even if you try to convince him otherwise. He eats his vegetables, but not without a feeling of disgust, he would rather have something less "grass-like", so he understands when you express how much you love seafood, and he's happy as long as it's healthy for you. For that reason he will either feed you at Monstro Lounge or in a really trustworthy place, goes in hand with his little quirk of going out with you to different restaurants and cafes.

• Please, don't tell him that his merman form looks tasty, he will get scared, it's not a joke. If he finds a pot to hide inside first you'll have to persuade him to leave it and then make it up by paying him countless compliments, apologizing is a must too. No, you can't take a bite! Maybe from his human body, but not this one. You don't like human flesh? Oh, mighty sea, help him.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd #jade leech x reader #twst jade #octavinelle #mel writes #the holliday is an easter egg i wonder if someone gets it

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waveypedia · 3 years

Text

come and dance with me

Rymin Week Day 6: Dance

1 2 4 5 7

Ao3

One late summer evening, when the sky is turning dark orange and blue, Ryan drags Min out for the night.

They end up at a club similar to what they play at regularly. Today, though, they are not here for music, as unfathomable as it may sound. Today, they are just here as innocuous members of the audience.

Days with neither a tight driving schedule to keep to or a show to catch are rare. Ryan and Min make the most of them, however that may play out. Sometimes it’s a quiet night in the hotel, catching up on practicing with Min’s full-size synth. Sometimes it’s exploring the towns on foot instead of the car.

Sometimes, like tonight, it’s hanging out at clubs and bars. As exhilarating as performing is, it’s nice to be on the other side sometimes. It’s a different experience.

They start out at a small table on the side, but in no time at all Ryan is dragging Min towards the dance floor. It’s a bit crowded for Min’s taste, but all it takes is a wide, hopeful smile from Ryan and he’s on his feet.

It is crowded, but Min nearly doesn’t notice once Ryan’s hands are in his. They spin and jump to the music. It’s thrilling to be a part of such a crowd, and yet Min and Ryan only have eyes for each other.

I love him. I love him so much…!

On the dance floor, with bright lights and loud music and sweaty people swirling around them, Min comes to a realization.

I never want to be without Ryan. I want to stay with him for the rest of my life.

Ryan wraps his arms around him. “Hey Min, I’m getting kind of hungry. can we-”

“Marry me.” The words are out of Min’s mouth before he even realizes they were there in the first place.

His mouth snaps shut. I. Why did I say that why did I say that?!

Ryan is staring at him, frozen, mouth agape. “Min?”

Min can only stare back.

As he’s standing, stock-still in the midst of dancing partygoers, the eye of the hurricane, he comes to yet another startling realization.

I don’t regret it. I stand by what I said.

“Yeah,” he says, quiet and breathy. “Yeah. Yeah! Ryan, let’s do it!” Excitement floods him, and he starts to bounce up and down. He takes Ryan’s hands and squeezes them, beaming. “Let’s get married!”

Ryan does not respond. At least, not verbally. He holds Min’s hands oh-so-gently, as if he were holding precious cargo. A light blush paints his cheeks, and he gazes at Min with a love-filled gaze.

“Okay.”

Min grins. “Okay!”

“It’s not going to be easy,” Ryan warns. His seriousness feels out of place both with the upbeat music and euphoria in Min’s heart.

Min starts spinning slowly to the beat of the music, tugging Ryan along with him.

“I don’t care,” Min says. “I just want to be with you.”

Ryan grins, leaning back but never letting go of Min’s hands. The shock seems to be wearing off, and his usual swagger returns, but he still seems quite caught off guard. “Well, that’s quite a declaration. Um. You didn’t plan this, did you?”

Min laughs, shaking his head. “I guess not. The sentiment just… came over me all of a sudden.”

“Ah, how the tables have turned,” Ryan says, laughing lightly. “Well. I’m glad you feel you can express yourself freely around me like that, even without a plan.” His cheeks are tinged pink.

“Me too.” Min ducks his head. Is that a rejection? Ryan would be more forthcoming than that, right? Ryan isn’t the type to speak in implications. Not when it counts.

Ryan opens his mouth to say more. At that sight, Min relaxes, because of course Ryan wouldn’t leave him hanging. But Min never gets to hear what those words are. Before Ryan can speak, he’s cruelly interrupted.

The song changes from something crooning and beautiful to something energetic and bouncy. It’s a popular song, topping charts in the way Chicken Choice Judy hopes to one day. The audience - both the dancers and the wallflowers - react accordingly, screaming with excitement.

On any other day, Ryan and Min (definitely Ryan) would’ve been just another person in that yelling crowd, expressing their joy in volume and feeding off the energy of their peers. Now, they stand frozen in the middle of the dance floor, an oasis of stillness in the middle of chaos.

They stare at each other, unsure. Neither of them is willing to break their communal silence (which feels absolutely nothing like silence, given the amount of noise around them).

A fellow partygoer nudges Min, a little too forcefully. “C’mon, guys! Aren’t you here to have fun?”

Ryan jumps. Min tries to catch his eye, but misses. When he glances back at the partygoer, they’ve disappeared into the crowd.

Ryan glances at Min and shrugs. He starts jumping and cheering. It might look perfectly natural to an onlooker, like a perfect part of the crowd, but Min knows him too well. He’s restrained, self-conscious in a way he rarely is.

But he seems unwilling to talk, so Min goes along with it.

They dance for a while longer before Min starts to get tired. He doesn’t get the chance to say anything, because Ryan just seems to know. Before Min can open his mouth, Ryan’s dragging him to the bar.

Ryan finally gets his food. They sir at the bar, drinking and laughing about everything and nothing. It’s a little awkward at first, which feels like unfamiliar territory for them after all this time off the train, but they eventually relax.

Yet neither of them dare to mention their earlier conversation.

The night passes in a blur of dancing and conversation. Min feels a little out of it, like he’s floating, or viewing his own life as an outsider. He doesn’t come back to himself until he’s lying in bed. With Ryan.

Both of them have never been more grateful for the initial idea and excuse of taking a queen-sized bed in their hotel room to save money. It has never been awkward, not even when they first started out. Not even before they knew each other liked men, or that they liked each other. Not even before Min himself knew he likes men! It always felt so natural to share so much domesticity and personal space with Ryan.

Until now. They’re cuddling, like usual. It’s not out of the ordinary for partners such as themselves. Usually the lull of Ryan’s breathing and his warm arms around Min’s body lull him right to sleep. Yet tonight, he feels tense.

He can’t deny that he is safe and comfortable in Ryan’s arms. His breaths are deep and calm. Slowly, the tension and worries start to ease out of his body. He relaxes in Ryan’s embrace, all thoughts of the proposal nearly gone.

Min is just starting to slip into sleep when Ryan stirs. “Min.”

A foreboding feeling is starting to burn in Min’s gut. He rolls over noisily in the silence and opens his eyes. “Yeah?”

Ryan is lying with his back to Min, staring decidedly at his hands as if they held the secrets to the universe. “Did you… mean what you said earlier? About marrying me?”

The last semblance of any drowsiness Min once had his gone, leaving him stiff and anxious. “I… yeah. I did. I do, really.”

Ryan doesn’t respond. He’s biting his lip and frowning into the darkness of the hotel room. Min shivers.

“Maybe it was dumb,” he mutters, disappointed. “I know it was spur of the moment. I didn’t even give you a grandiose speech. You deserve that.”

Ryan’s breaths are long and measured. If not for how controlled they are, or how long he’s been sleeping next to Ryan in close quarters, Min might’ve thought he’d fallen asleep. Which wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary, if tonight were a normal night. If they’d stayed up late dancing and partying and crashed afterwards. It’s happened multiple times, with each of them at fault. Long nights take their toll on everybody.

But Ryan isn’t the type to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation like this. Not when it counts.

So Min waits. Patient as he is, the silence still stings.

“So it was just the lack of a speech that was dumb?” Ryan finally asks. His voice is quiet, scratchy with disuse and fear.

Min swallows. “Yeah, but Ryan- I don’t really care, I just-“

“Tell me your speech.”

“Huh?” Min must have heard him wrong.

“Tell me your speech.” Quick as a flash, Ryan rolls over and grips both of Min’s hands in his own. His nose is inches from Min’s. They stare into each others’ eyes, breaths catching. Ryan’s eyes are wide and nervous, with no semblance of sleep remaining. His lips are slightly parted. Min’s gaze flicks down to them, then away when he realizes what he’s done. Now is not the time. Later… but not now.

“O-oh. Um.” Min clears his throat awkwardly, desperately searching for words.

Ryan frowns and breaks his gaze away. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Or if you need to think it over-“

“No, no.” Min shakes his head empathically. “I still feel the way I did in the club, Ryan. Just… a little more tired, I guess. But my point stands. And I don’t need to think it over, because I love you and I love everything about you. I don’t need multiple drafts to figure out how to say that.”

“Oh.” Ryan is blushing fiercely. Min stifles an affectionate giggle that would surely break the moment and forces himself to concentrate.

“Ryan Akagi,” he says after a moment, taking a deep breath. “You were my first friend. You are my closest friend. You were one of the first people I ever met. When our parents wanted us to be friends, we could have not gotten along. But we have, because you are a wonderful person who charms everyone who comes within ten feet of you.”

Min pauses for breath, then continues. “But I care about so much more than that. I love you because you helped me realize my first dream. I love you because you convinced me to play in our first performance because we wanted to, not because our parents did. I love you because you never gave up on me. I love you because you are such a go-getter. When you set your mind to something, you make it happen, even if it seems impossible. You came back to me even when I thought we were finished, and you changed my life. I cannot imagine spending it without you, whether in music or at home. I love playing music with you and traveling with you and performing with you. Please make me as happy now as you make me every day.”

Min’s final words hang in the air. The silence in the room is broken only by the incessant whirring of the hotel fan.

Min scratches at the back of his neck. “Umm, if you want to, of course. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I will respect that.”

“Min.” Min shuts up fast. “Man, I-“ Ryan rubs at his eyes and sniffles. “You’re too good to me.”

“Never,” Min promises fiercely.

“Shut up and let me talk, okay?” Min nods, chastised. Ryan sends him a small smile before continuing.

“Min, you’re… man, you’re such an amazing person. Shut up, it’s true, I can see those protests coming from a mile away.” Ryan levels him with a stern glare. Min laughs.

When the moment has passed, Ryan sighs, threading his hands behind his head. “I barely know where to start with you. You’ve made my life so much better, you know? I don’t know where I’d be without you. Gage is nothing compared to Chicken Choice Judy, sure, but even when we were kids my life revolves around you. You were my only friend, but you know what? I never sought out anyone else because I never needed anyone else. Time and again, you’ve always been the person I’m happiest with. That year I spent alone on the road was the worst year of my life. I kept asking myself, ‘Why am I so unhappy? I have everything I’ve never wanted. I’m finally a performing musician. I’m writing an album. I’m away from my stifling family. I’m free to be myself.’ But I’ve always known the answer. It was because I was without you.” Ryan rolls over to take Min’s hands once more. “I never want to be without you again, Min.”

Min chokes on a sob. “Ryan, I…”

Ryan squeezes his hand. “You don’t need to say anything. This has been a lot of sappiness for one night.”

Min shakes his head, the ghost of a smile on his face. Well, allow me to change the mood. As you wish, good sir. “So, is that a yes?” he asks hopefully.

Ryan bursts out laughing, the sound echoing through the previously quiet hotel room. “Sure it is, Min. I pour my heart out and that’s all I get, huh?”

“Sorry,” Min says, chuckling. “I’ll do it right this time. Ryan Akagi, will you marry me?”

Ryan’s smile is soft and beautiful. “Of course I will. Min-Gi Park, will you marry me?”

“I will,” Min says quietly, full of emotion. God, he loves this man.

He can’t imagine a better future now that it belongs to Ryan. They have their entire futures to spend together. Their entire lives to spend together.

The future hasn’t been something Min looked forward to for a long time. Not since his parents started pressuring him about college, and certainly not since Ryan left. Yet now, lying in a hotel bed with Ryan’s hand in his and a promise on their lips, he finds himself looking forward with a smile on his face.

Whatever comes next, I am ready. With Ryan by my side, nothing could ever truly go wrong.

to be completely honest i wasn't even going to write for this day but we started chatting in the discord on monday about rymin engagement and i had to drop everything to write this (except i actually didn't because i ended up writing it all today aksdjfkdsl) it's literally all because of this

Ryan: Min I think we should get-

Min: married

Ryan: I mean I was going to say takeaway but let's do your thing that sounds much better

title is from apple by gfriend. admittedly this doesn't fit the "dance" prompt as closely as i would've liked so hopefully that makes up for it. in all honesty i didn't have a plan for this one and i just wanted to shoehorn rymin proposal in there somewhere dkfjgkfd

it's really late rn i finished this hours ago but i was away so i can only post it now. i just really want to go to bed so i'll leave you with that. might edit this in the morning though. thank you for reading! if you ever wanna talk infinity train, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here on my tumblr or on twitter! please leave a like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed it!

@ryminweek

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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

Text

All that Was Fair

Chapter 5: You Can Never Go Home Again

Chapter Summary: Jamie and Claire deal with the fallout of her revelation.

Read on AO3

Read chp 5 below the cut:

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Chapter 5

“What do ye mean, ye canna go home?” Jamie asked as his own concern began to ramp up in earnest.

Claire was trembling again, her hand anxiously squeezing his and her free arm still wrapped tightly around herself. Drawn to comfort her, Jamie gathered her into a one-armed hug and pressed her against him. He could feel her distress pulsing through her like an electric current.

She rested her temple on his collarbone— deflated by the enormity of what she was saying and desperate for safe harbor— and then she finally expanded.

“I don’t know anything, Jamie, really. But if I’m right, the only way I could return to my plane of existence— to my realm and the seelie court— is to go back through the stones. But I can’t do that, Jamie, I can’t. I think it might kill me.”

During her revelation, a flurry of emotions was swirling inside Jamie so vehemently that he lost hold on the present for a second. His heart was breaking for her. The thought of being forever stranded in an unfamiliar place— away from her home and people— the terror and loss must have been debilitating. At the same time, some secret part of Jamie was rejoicing. Losing her so soon after she’d dropped into his life and changed him forever would have crushed him. But if she really couldn’t go home, that meant that she would stay with him….

Jamie could only dare to hope about the possibilities.

But as soon as that thought surfaced, he began to feel guilt twisting in his middle. She was quite obviously suffering. Her body was shaking against him, overcome by the gravity of the realization, and here he was delighting in her news.

Hooking a finger under her chin, he raised her face to look up at him and saw her eyes were glittering with tears.

“Listen to me, mo nighean donn, ye’re no’ alone. I’m right here wi’ ye, and I willna let anythin’ happen to ye. If this is true, ye can stay wi’ me for however long ye choose, and I will care for ye and see ye safe.”

Tears dripped from her face and onto his hand where it remained rested gently under her face. She nodded a little against him, lips wobbling as she tried to hold back the tide of her emotions. His heart broke for her all over again.

“Come here,” was all he could say, and then he was wrapping her fully in his arms.

She went willingly, all but collapsing onto his chest. Both of her hands clutched one of his arms and she buried her face into his shoulder. The moment their bodies made contact, she began to cry. Hitched sobs escaped her as she tried to contain the onslaught.

“It’s alright, mo Sorcha, let it out,” he murmured into her hair.

She did, and simply cried against him as the reality and weight of what was going on truly hit. And all he could do was hold her.

He didn’t like seeing her like this. Ever since she’d woken up in his arms while he was carrying her down from the stones, Claire had been so incredibly brave. She’d been taking everything miraculously in stride. Curious and inquisitive, she was bold in her explorations and delighted in the human world. Now though, she seemed thoroughly broken. More than wary, she was fearful of the unknown she’d been thrust into without any possibility of return to what she knew. It was one thing to explore, he supposed, but quite another to be condemned to a life of the unfamiliar.

In that moment, Jamie promised himself that he’d make this world safe for her so that she’d never have to feel this kind of fear again.

And if she’d let him, he’d walk beside her through it.

“We’ll sort it out,” he whispered, “no matter what. Together.”

She nodded against him, tear-soaked face pressing against his shirt. It would surely be stained and damp, but it was of no import.

He brought a hand up to her neck, cupping the tiny curve of the base of her skull, and began to knead his thumb in gentle circles there. At the same time, Gaelic started to flow instinctively from his lips, and he made shushing sounds in between the mindless reassurances. It’ll be alright. I’m here, mo nighean donn. Dinna weep. All of this and more he whispered into her hair, his lips barely brushing it as he breathed the words.

A whimper escaped her as she cried, and if his heart wasn’t already shattered into a million pieces at seeing her like this, that tiny sound would have obliterated it.

He had no idea how long he stood there— holding her as she cried for the life she had lost— but it felt like hours to him. Finally, she began to calm. Her crying subsided and breathing slowed until she went quiet against him.

Carefully, he drew back to look down at her. The bonny face was streaked with tear stains and her lips looked somehow a deeper color than usual. Her golden-eyes held grief, ringed with red, and moisture beaded on the long, dark lashes. But behind it all was an incredible strength. A determination held in those whiskey depths.

He cupped her face with both hands and began to gently smooth his thumbs over her cheeks to clear away the tear tracks.

“Ye’re sae strong. I ken ye’ll be okay no matter what happens,” he told her with complete conviction.

That brought another single tear rolling silently down her cheek. She held his gaze as it made its slow trail downward, as if pleading for him to make it all better. He wished to God that he had that power. But there was nothing he could do, save perhaps distraction.

“Here, I have another thing to show ye that I think ye might like,” he said as a thought struck him.

Letting go of her face to instead take her hand, he led her across the room to the counter where a box of tissues lay. With his free hand, he withdrew one, and then gently used it to clean her face as he explained, “we use them to dry tears and such.” As he wiped away the moisture on her cheeks, one of her hands raised to take the edge between her fingers and rub cautiously.

“It’s soft,” she commented with a tremulous laugh and a watery smile.

The way she said it— a hint of her usual delight and awe creeping into her voice despite her sorrow— made Jamie indescribably happy.

“That’s what I thought ye’d say,” he chuckled fondly.

It seemed to have been just the thing to help her, because once he’d finished drying her face, she straightened up and mustered another smile for Jamie.

“Will ye show me more things?” she asked. Her voice was still thick with emotion but she seemed eager to gather herself.

“Of course,” he said, his tone still laced with soft understanding.

Jamie’s thoughts raced as he tried to come up with the best thing to show her that would take her mind off things. The TV came first to mind, but he quickly dismissed that as being just a bit too overwhelming for this moment. They’d have to work up to that. Jamie thought about everything he knew Claire liked, and suddenly the perfect idea came into his head.

“There’s somethin’ I think ye’ll like verra much in the basement. That’s eh— the level below this.”

His house’s basement was small— just a carpeted room with a couple odd couches, his old tv, and Adso’s litter box haphazardly arranged. Jamie didn’t spend much time down there, and as a result, didn’t bother cranking up the heat enough to warm it much. Being low as it was, it was always cold.

He led Claire by the hand down the steps. She seemed a bit wary of descending but simply clutched his hand and followed. When they emerged downstairs and he flicked on the lights, her gaze swept over the room. She looked at him inquisitively, obviously wondering what exactly he was going to show her here (it was admittedly quite unimpressive, apparently even to a faerie).

Giving her a smile, half to reassure her and half in excitement for the kick she was likely to get out of what he had to show her, he strode over to the little machine that lay in between the couches, pointed it toward Claire, and pressed the “on” button.

“This is called a space heater,” he announced proudly.

It was a small, portable one, about a foot tall and with one opening so the heat all went in one direction, but it created a remarkable warmth.

The moment Claire felt the heat emanating from the machine and blowing onto her legs, her face spread into a wide smile. She eagerly leaned down, hands outstretched toward the machine in fascination. A laugh bubbled from her as she delighted in the feel of the hot air.

But Jamie noticed that she was reaching even closer, and quickly caught her wrist before her fingers could make contact with the heated grate.

“Dinna touch it, it’s too hot,” he warned, “but ye can be jes’ by it.”

She gave him a single nod, looked back at the machine, and then suddenly plopped down to the floor. Crossing her legs, she scooted as close to the heater as she could and hovered her hands in front of it, just like one would warm their hands in front of a campfire.

“It’s so warm!” she squealed, and wiggled her fingers, luxuriating in the flow of hot air.

Jamie was patting himself on the back for how well he was beginning to know her. As much delight as she was getting from the wee contraption, he was getting just as much— if not more— from seeing the carefree happiness return to her bonny face. The smile that lit up his life was turned up toward him as Claire looked for his response.

“Aye, I believe I have ye all figured out, Sassenach,” he teased, “the way to yer heart is all things soft and warm.”

She playfully narrowed her eyes, a glimmer of humor there that reassured Jamie immensely.

“I think I may still surprise you yet, my lad.”

Jamie laughed. “Och, I dinna doubt it.”

As Claire turned her attention back to enjoying the space heater, twisting and turning her body so that the warmth touched every part of it, Jamie thought about what to do next. His mind just barely started to leap to long term implications— Christ, his job! He had to work tomorrow. And she’d need clothes. And—

He had to stop himself before he went mad. What he needed to do was to focus on taking things one step at a time. At some point when Claire was well and truly occupied, maybe when she went to sleep for the night, he’d sit down and try to think through everything. But for the time being, he just wanted to continue to distract her so she didn’t fall back into that horrible despair.

When his eyes refocused on the scene in front of him, Claire looked like she would have been hugging the machine to herself if she was allowed. She was huddled as close to it as she possibly could be, absorbing every bit of warmth.

“Do ye want tae see more? I could show ye the rest of the house so ye feel a wee bit more comfortable. Ye could ask me all yer questions…”

Just as Jamie was finishing making his offer, Claire’s hand shot up, grabbed Jamie's, and tugged him down. Startled as he was, he went with her pull, and plopped down on the floor next to her.

“Just another minute...” she purred, and he could only laugh in response.

Since Claire was cuddled so close to the space heater, her body blocked any heat from actually reaching Jamie. He didn’t mind, but settled himself slightly further back so that he was behind Claire and comfortably resting back against the bottom of the couch as he waited for her to finish basking.

To his surprise, Claire scooted backward, shoving her way in between his splayed legs so she could recline against his chest. Jamie was so taken aback— as he always was when she touched him so brazenly, making his mind spin— that he simply complied when she took both of his arms and wrapped them around her. He found himself hugging her from behind as she let out a contented sigh and rested her temple against his jaw.

There wasn’t a single thought in his head about what he was doing as he instinctively turned his face just a bit to press his lips to the soft skin of her temple.

She didn’t seem to mind at all. She didn’t even react. But the second after he did it, a wave of guilt surged over him. It wasn’t his right to kiss her like that; Claire wasn’t his to kiss. Sure, she’d initiated all this contact that made his heart flutter, and sure he was absolutely falling for her, but he’d known her for only two days. Her entire world has just crumbled out from underneath her feet, and he was her only anchor. He couldn’t possibly take advantage of her with his romantic inclinations. Not to mention, she wasn’t even human. Although for some reason that argument didn’t dissuade him as much as the thought that Claire might feel obligated to return his affections in exchange for his help. He couldn’t do that to her. It wasn’t fair.

He wanted to run away from her, to withdraw himself and put some distance between them so he could finally think clearly. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be able to control himself when she nestled up so close to him like this. But the thought of withholding physical comfort which she so clearly desired, even needed… it was intolerable. So he stayed put.

Claire was completely unaware of the turmoil going on in Jamie’s mind, and she sighed contentedly against him. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest as it nudged his with each inhale and exhale. That feeling of closeness did nothing to help the clenching of affection in his heart.

Damn it, Fraser, pull yourself together. You can be her friend— her guide— her protector— but leave foolish notions of anything more out of it.

She tilted her head to peer up at him.

“Are you alright?” she asked, apparently seeing the expression on his face that must have been something close to heartbreak as he agonized over her.

“Jes’ fine,” he mustered a smile, “have ye had enough warmth now tae get ye through a wee walk about the house?”

She chuckled at that, and it sent vibrations through her that Jamie could feel reverberate through his own body.

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of this, but I’m ready for what else you have to show me.”

***

#All That Was Fair #update #outlander fanfiction #claire x jamie

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random-ran-me · 3 years

Text

Tubbo in wonderland

warnings: vore mouth play? Heights Family not caring and other things like that..

Life is full of wonder and Magic but for some people wondering is hard and they only go off what they know even if it’s not true, Magic is non existent in a world like this..even if it’s right in front of them-well except for one very special little boy..Toby a young lad with brown Curly hair and Beautiful forest green eyes and lots of frecklessd, a rather normal looking boy, and to Toby normal was boring,

Toby sighed as his family played in the park, he was leaning against a oak tree as the wind blew bye his face with a Mighty gust, he was so bored bye these games his Friends and family would play, the same games every summer, he wanted something new and exciting but no one seemed to like new games..

he just needed-needed some-some wonder in his life, Mystery and Magic was all he craved, he was just lost is what he felt come to his brain, why was he like this? Most kids he met were just happy to do anything they were told but toby always questions everything even his parents,

his family has given up on him is what it seems, toby was one of the smartest 12 year olds he new, not to toot his own horn or anything but he had the best grades in his class however this isn’t what makes a person smart,

it is the ability to question and think about things that most people wouldn’t even think twice about, that is what being smart is it is the ability to have imagination and of all things wonder, but his family wasn’t like that. At all, he felt himself cringe and remorse from the thought, Toby didn’t have any friends so he was alone with his thoughts most summers sadly.

as Toby glanced over to his side looking among the tree’s of the park he saw a..rabbit? In a small park? That was out of the ordinary, Toby stood walking swiftly towards the direction of the rabbit, glancing at his mom for approval when he received a nod he quickly sprinted off in the direction of the rabbit, Toby ran past tree after tree before stopping to catch his breath, I’m so late late LATE LATE!! he heard someone saying from the bushes, Toby peeked around a tree to see a black and White rabbit with A pocket watch and a trenchcoat on, wha-wow, that is a talking rabbit Toby thought, hello? Toby spoke up as he slowly walked out of the bushes, the rabbit didn’t pay much attention to him still mumbling about being late,

well the rabbit didn’t pay attention to him until he tried picking it up, la-ahh! Hey! Listen here would you like it if I just picked you up? N-no.. but I was talking to you and you ignored me! Well then maybe you could have realized I was Busy! How was I supposed to know! Toby couldn’t believe he was having an argument with a rabbit..

Toby set the bunny down parting with its soft fur,

THANK YOU the rabbit said sarcastically, ugh I’ve got to go, and I’m even more late because of you! Toby took a step back at the outburst looking at his feet I’m-I-sorry Toby said but was to late apparently the rabbit had went down a tunnel,

That definitely was not there before Toby thought to himself, he slowly approached the huge hole in the ground

He found himself looking down the hole but couldn’t see the bottom he reached his hand out but couldn’t find the ground, odd Toby thought, he tried reaching even farther stretching his arm as far as it could go,

He felt himself fall off balance..

WOAH!

Toby felt gravity pull him down as he tried to get out of the dark hole, AHHH! He screamed as he fell, he expected to hit some ground, he knew the hole was deep but not this deep,

It felt like around two minutes where he still hadn’t hit the ground yet..

Help!?

He yelled but to no avail he didn’t get a response..HELP!? he tried louder..nothing…

Maybe I’m dreaming he prayed in his head, oh please let me be dreaming he pleaded,

Because if this wasn’t a dream He didn’t think there was any way to get out,

Suddenly he started to see objects? Like tee kettles and tea cups, he sees lots of clocks and a bed? What is happening?! Toby said in a protesting voice,

He started panicking as he fell faster, he flailed around trying to grab any objects big enough to break a fall from this height but he knew he was probably going to die..

His tears flew as the wind blew as he fell, AHHHHHH!!

He screeched.

Suddenly he felt sick as gravity seemed to change, Toby didn’t see what happened as his eyes were shut but all of a sudden he was on a ceiling?

OK he knew he wanted some magic and wonder but he didn’t want to be in a fever dream!

Wha-what?.. he questioned fearfully, where am I? He spoke out loud, he was alone so he was talking to himself,

How do I get down? He wondered,

Maybe..if I try this! Toby jumped and immediately gravity pulled him down again, AHHH!

Bonk

Was all that was Heard as he hit the ground

OW..

He groaned as he sat up with pain in his back, he heard a crack as he stood up..that’s going to leave some bruises.. he thought to himself,

Looking around the room he saw it had a round roof like a dome, it looks rather old yet classy Toby essentially sure, The whole room had curtains in it covering up well he didn’t know,

He looked over to a small table with a glass centre and a wooden outlining, on it small box rested, it had a small tag that was attached to the ribbon that the box was tied shut with, Toby stood up walking with a bit of pain as he approached the small table, picking the small box up to examine it, it was a nice Little box with a yellow ribbon and bow on top and the box itself was pink, it reminded him of Easter,

In the back of his mind he kind of wondered if he had met the Easter bunny earlier…

The tag on the box red

•Eat me•

Huh? I mean there’s no way this isn’t a dream Toby thought, so I mean there’s no harm in eating something you found in a box, in an unfamiliar place?

It sounded better in his head then out loud

Not like anyone could hear him anyways though..

Toby carefully pulled at the ribbon undoing the bow so he could open the box, he reached his hand inside the small box to pull out a cookie that was Square and the cookie had frosting that red “eat me” just like the tag,

I mean no harm could be done in a dream so I might as well just enjoy it!

Toby sat on the floor with the cookie and took a bite, the frosting tasted normal but the cookie itself was awful,

Gross yuck!

He swallowed the rest of the cookie that was in his mouth before putting he cookie down,

He felt tingling in his legs and then it started to spread all the way up to his head, Toby had to close his eyes that’s how queasy he felt,

His head hit something and the queasy feeling went away, he opened his eyes looking around him,

What?!

He yelled making the walls shake, he said was now 20 feet tall,

He had new clothes on as well wear ever the heck those came from, he didn’t really understand why he was dressed in winter clothing but he just reminded himself it was a dream right? Everything felt real but maybe he was just having a realistic dream

He looked back down at the table..now there was a small bottle that probably said drink me he thought sarcastically

He really didn’t want to drink it after that but maybe it could help him?

Toby very gently picked up the bottle and very very carefully took the Cork off,

He pressed the cold bottle to his lips just barely feeling the liquid inside Poor into his mouth,

He felt the tingling feeling again but he didn’t feel as sick this time, Plus he wanted to see what it looked like, if it looks like anything that is

His body shrank down to about 4 inches it was very distorting to watch,

His clothes magically changed right before his eyes..

He was wearing a green shirt with rips in it and blue Jean pants? At least if they were going to give him a shirt give him one with no rips in it he thought to himself,

This was his dream but he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to explore, at risk of it becoming a nightmare..

It is only a dream! he told him self he didn’t want to wake up yet he wanted to explore, even if his brain was telling him not to

I wonder what’s behind these curtains?

Toby walked over cautiously, he couldn’t really pull the curtain so he walked around it and behind it

There was a small door?

Toby tried to open it, he pulled and he pushed but to no avail the door didn’t open..

PASS WORD PLEASE

He heard ring around him, uhh? Abracadabra? Open Sesame? Open?

You dumb child use your manners!

Was all he heard after his failed attempts, uh I-my manners! Please open! He yelled,

The door opened he quickly ran out in case it decided to shut, he looked around him in awe this world he was in was Beautiful from what he could tell..but everything was huge now,

He wished he would have brought the terrible tasting cookie with him..

Because now he was alone,tiny, and in a pink and purple coloured Forest

At least the grass was relatively normal, but it was still beautiful nonetheless magical almost,

He heard the familiar voice of.. The rabbit!

Maybe the rabbit can give him directions

Hey! Hello? He heard rustling come from the bushes As a black and white rabbit head came out of a bush

Huh? The rabbit looked down at Toby with the most confused and disgruntled look Toby had ever seen in his life,

Then the rabbit had a look of realization, toby didn’t even know rabbits could show emotions but apparently this one could..

HEY! Your that boy who picked me up and that’s why I was late!!

Oh yeah sorry about that Toby said rubbing the back of his head with his hand

The rabbit walked closer to him almost suffocating’ly close

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Ranboo rabbit POV

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Gosh dang it ranboo had forgotten to close the wonderland hole and now a human had gotten in, I mean it’s not like there weren’t any humans in wonderland heck they’re are plenty but this one isn’t supposed to be here..

Phil would know what to do!

He just needed to take the tiny human to the mad hatter’s house but how?

Ranboo didn’t want to reveal his secrets to the human especially being a rabbit hybrid

But he didn’t exactly have hands in this form..

Oh god.. he needed to act tuff again..

HEY! your the one who picked me up earlier!

Oh yeah sorry about that the young boy said as he rubbed the back of his head

The fact that the boy was even hear was a miracle only descendants of the wonderland people can get in so he must be a descendant of someone..but who?

The boy started talking again and ranboo felt bad for what he was about to do but he didn’t know what he could reveal..

Ranboo swiftly grabbed the boy in his mouth almost slurping him in like noodle..

He felt the boy kick and struggle but the rabbit hybrid just gently tightened his mouth so the boy was immobilized

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Toby POV

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Toby kicked and struggled as hard as he could as his delusions went away..

This is not a dream.

At all and his brain new that..

He just didn’t want to believe it…

But now he was in a rabbits mouth probably going to end up as a snack for later as the rabbit did not swallow him yet..key word yet

Toby looked for sensitive spots in the mouth but all he new about was human sensitivity!

Just as he gave one last good kick the roof of the mouth came down on top of him, it wasn’t crushing him but the warm saliva felt weird on his back,

He shivered from the feeling

Plus his face was pushed against a tongue and it was disgusting..

He new the rabbit was running by the occasional bump and feeling of stoping

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Ranboo rabbit POV

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Ranboo looked around the hatter’s home but Phil nor Wilbur could be seen..

Ugh now I have to take this kid home with me..

Ranboo opened his mouth slightly to let more fresh air in for the little boy before closing his mouth hearing a scream for help with it

Luckily he didn’t live to far away from the hatter’s so he sprinted off to his borrow

Running as fast as he could he finally made it to his borrow,

Now this was no dirt hole it was just a home under ground it still had everything a normal human needed

Ranboo turned into his human form, the boy still in his mouth, he opened up the doors in the ground walking down the stairs and into the Area Where you could hang your coat and leave your shoes, he smelt the carrot stew his dad was cooking,

Ranboo tried to sneak to his room without being detected by his dad,

Ranboo! Is that you buddy?

He heard come from the kitchen, now ranboo would have said something almost immediately but since he had a fragile item or so he would call it, in his mouth he couldn’t exactly speak plus if he took the boy out he would probably cry or scream or try to escape his Grasp…

Ranboo bolted for his room looking frantically for a jar in his dresser or something till he just decided to pluck the boy out of his mouth and put him in his dresser drawer and shut it with a-

bang

Ranboo ran back out to the kitchen, oh uh-sorry dad I-I was just holding a lot of things and couldn’t talk because I needed to focus!

Mhm.. he sounded sceptical ranboo thought nervously, he’s trying his best to make his nose stop twitching but he wasn’t very good at hiding it..

Ok buddy supper will be ready soon,

O-oh-ok Ranboo Sighed out of relief

So how was your first day today?

It was good I was a little late but I made it to king techno with the local news

Good,good may I ask why you were late?

Just stressed a-and couldn’t find my way there immediately..

Well do your best son this was my job, and now it’s yours, you’re the white rabbit’s son, you need to live up to my name,

I know..

Ranboo said sounding defeated…

We’ll head back to your room I’m sure you have homework to do his dad laughed for a second

Ye-yeah I haven’t checked but I probably do,

And with that ranboo sprinted back to his room close ing the door behind him,

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Toby POV

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Toby wasn’t really paying attention he was mor worried about, yknow dying..so when gravity shifted and all of a sudden he wasn’t in a mouth any more and was in a dark cold place he didn’t question it he was just happy to be alive, Toby tried getting the spit off him as he couldn’t really see anything so he couldn’t really escape..

But what did make him question even more was the fact that he was pretty sure a hand had grabbed him not a paw,

Suddenly he heard a door slam shut and foot steps coming closer but suddenly they stopped and all went quite

Toby’s breath hitched in his throat as he waited for something to happen, and then he saw a crack of light

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Ranboo the rabbit POV

——————————————————————————Ranboo wasn’t sure weather to let the boy see his hybrid form or not but finally decided to just go for it as he slowly opened his top drawer,

He saw the boy give him a shocked look before cowering away in the back of the drawer,

Ranboo decided he would start fresh, or at least try, he assumed the boy didn’t recognize him but he could later or maybe he already had..

But he was going to try to get a clean slate,

Ok he was just going to be himself and talk,

Hello? The boy didn’t so much as look at him,

What’s your name little guy?

Luckily ranboo had rabbit ears so he could hear the Little whisper that came out of the boy,

Toby…

Huh that’s a weird name, you need a wonderland name ranboo said with his hands on his hips

The boy looked at him now coming out of hiding, yes it’s working! ranboo thought,

What about..Tubbo

O-ok he heard a whisper

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Tubbo POV

——————————————————————————Toby didn’t know why he expected a rabbit to Open the drawer thingy but what he wasn’t expecting was a rabbit it human hybrid to Open the drawer

He was scared at first but it seem to show no memory of him so he assumed it wasn’t the rabbit from before

He marked it as a possibility because he wasn’t really sure what was happening around him..

He could probably start flying lessons if he tried hard enough, especially in this world?

But the hybrid showed nothing but kindness to him so he deemed it more safe then anything,

The rabbit hybrid had asked him a couple of questions

He happily answered them even if he was a bit shy and scared in the beginning,

He asked the rabbit Hybrid‘s name which apparently was ranboo,

That’s a weird name like why can’t his name be something easy to remember like mark or something,

The giant rabbit hybrid put their hand down in the what Toby assumed was a drawer,

He climbed on very very cautiously, as ranboo lifted his hand up slowly,

So Tubbo I kinda need to keep you here till tomorrow so what do you want to do?

That was an odd thing to say but Toby wasn’t really going to argue he was kind of hoping that he go to sleep tonight and wake up with his family,

He knew that was a pretty slim chance though..

Have any board games?

Yeah, want to play?

Sure!

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Ranboo: Son of the white rabbit

Tubbo: niece of Alice

Philza: descendant of the mad hatter

Wilbur: Phils son

Tommy: also Phil’s son, (We’re just gonna say they’re the tweedle Dee and tweedle dumb but not quite)

Techno: King of hearts

Qwackity: Cheshire Cat (this is up to change) May change it to Nikki later

And there’s lots of others

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This is due to be continued

If you were questioning yes the land that Tubbo is in is real he’s not dreaming

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Part two may be coming out soon

This is not edited

And don’t worry I’m still working on my other fiction it’s just taking a really long time

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Please feel free to ask questions

#tw vore #tiny tubbo #my story #alice in wonderland #tubbo au

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