#-and has to keep it that way lest they feel the wrath of a long-absent god | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scriptaed · 4 years

Text

his hurricane.

genre: angst; fwb!au; roommate!au;

pairing: reader x jimin;

length: 2.3k;

synopsis: he always loved you and he always will; but this time, for the sake of his sanity, he had to run somewhere far away from your whirlwind and the chaotic hurricane you always brought with you... because when his mustered confession is met with your disrespect, he’s finally calling it quits.

commissioned by @jiminssizzles: thank you for the support, lovely! i know you’re a sucker for fluff but i hope this fic will sway you toward the dark angst side c:

The winds are merciless tonight and the wrath of midnight that engulfs you only urges you forward toward the alluring warmth of your apartment. As if a prelude to the impending predicament of the night, your keys could not be any less cooperative. All you want to do is burst through the doors, kick off your heels, and jump into the arms of your roommate for a night-long cuddling session, as you’ve always done after another disappointing date, but here you are: nearly kicking the door down in frustration, stomping your feet to keep the breeze out of each hole of your stockings that only exacerbates the cold, and fumbling with your keys all whilst a downpour of curses tumble from your lips.

Living vicariously through your own memories of just last week’s moment of intimacy, you can still recall the way he held you protectively in his arms, you can still remember the path of his fingers that weaved through your locks, and you can practically feel the circles that he drew into your right arm with his thumb as he caressed you in his embrace. It’s been a week since you’ve jumped into his arms—a week ever since that particular conversation—but the recollection of Jimin’s touch is like that of a magnetic force, drawing you in and emphasizing the throb in your gaping chest that yearns for the feeling of home.

It probably isn’t right for you to expect all that from him, not after what he had told you last week, but your body reacts indifferently to your mind. His whispers of sweet nothings are all that pushes you onward after a long day of heartbreak. His touch is a necessity, an innate fuel that you hadn’t realized you had taken for granted until it became an unhealthy addiction.

Ahah⁠—the one key out of your other dozens finally slides and clicks the lock open and finally⁠, finally you’re allowed in… and when the door nearly comes busting down, a gust of warmth comes flooding out to envelop you, and the first thing your dreary eyes lock with is that of his own as he stands in the midst of his tracks on the way to the living room couch, you arrive at an epiphany that would stir you for weeks on end.

Nothing and no one, no dates nor one night stands, could thaw your stilled heart like Jimin does, right here, right now.

The excitement overwhelms you; and the next thing you know, you’re tossing your bag to the floor, opting not to to kick your heels off in the hasty spur of the moment, and skipping forward to jump into his arms with a half-squeal, half-yelp. On the other hand, the boy proves caught off guard when his eyes pop wide just a split second before you leap and has no choice but to accept your demand for a welcoming.

His arms wrap around you, one on your bottom and another on the small of your back, as you wrap your legs tightly around his hips and hug him as closely to your chest as you could. The boy stumbles backward for a few steps but the slight chuckle that leaves his lips and tickles your earlobes tell you he had you and your whirlwind of a chaos under control, as he’s always been more adept than others in.

Pulling back to grin cheekily at the surprisingly stark contrast that was his own expression, you exclaim, “I’m home!”

“Yeah,” he responds, pressing his lips into a thin upcurve.

The absence of his usual vigor that once mirrored yours after a long day apart has you frowning in concern. Perhaps he, too, had a rough time, although over what, you’re not too sure of; but that’s okay, because that’s what you two always spent the night conversing and rambling over until nothing was left but the gratitude of having the other to hold in each other’s arms⁠—and that is exactly what you need after tonight.

“Hey, Jimin,” you stop in your tracks when he flinches slightly at the touch of your hands that cup his cheeks, “...are you alright?”

“...yeah,” he says, carefully letting you down despite your evident reluctance to oblige.

Jimin stares off to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets and out of your vicinity; and when you follow his line of sight, you finally notice how oddly empty the apartment seems. What was once riddled with his shirts and jackets tossed over your own sweaters and jeans is now scattered with just your belongings.

“What were you up to today?” you ask warily, glancing at his avoidant gaze.

“Just,” he responds, “tidying.”

“Oh,” you utter, pursing your lips and nodding at the silence that follows in the wake of an absent elaboration.

It isn’t too rare of an occasion for you to return home to a tidied apartment, considering Jimin has always been the more organized of the pair that was you and him, but usually you would find your own belongings neatly folded on your bed as well⁠—lest he happened to be extremely lethargic that day, which you figure he must be at this very moment, because usually he would be the one to ask you about your day first and not the other way around.

Something about the stagnant silence and his closed off profile calls your attention to the gaping distance between you and him; so, like you’ve always done, you take a step forward to wrap your arms around him and nestle your head against his chest in a fruitless attempt to diminish the gap⁠—because although you’re physically as close to him as you could be, the both of you are familiar enough to know how mentally and emotionally detached the other is tonight.

At the very least, as you lay your head against his chest and count his melodic heartbeats that thump against your ear, you can internally sigh in relief because not all has been lost, for the race of his pulse still sparks in the wake of your electric touch.

Even so, he remains completely still; neither uncomfortable enough to move nor desperate enough to embrace.

“Sooo,” you mull over how to intervene the gap that only seems to widen by the second, “the date didn’t go so well today… are we surprised at this point, though?”

“...no, not to me.”

“Hey, am I supposed to be offended that you agreed or relieved that you understand where I’m coming from?” your pout seeps into your playful bickering before another sigh of relief leaves your lips and you hold him even tighter.

Usually, a simple nuzzling of your head to his chest and an even more snug fit of you against him would have been enough to put you at ease; but this time, when his response is a silent stiffening in place, you can’t help but start to worry⁠—an anomaly for the usual, carefree and whimsical you. How could you get through to him? How do you lift his low spirits? He’s always been the type to perk at the sound of praise, akin to a puppy when his master returns home, so like the way you’ve always done when he was upset with you, your tactic begins with a shameless albeit truthful praise.

In hindsight, when this very scene would replay like a loopless tape for the entirety of the next agonizing month, this decision would be your first dire mistake.

“But then again,” you begin as the flutters in you manifest the ear-to-ear grin that adorns your face, “no one makes me feel the way you do, Jimin.”

The receiver of your heartfelt confession, however, stiffens in response. That, in itself along with the worry that creeps into your gradually fading grin, is enough for you to freeze in place. After a few seconds that seem to last for a lengthy minute, he finally manages to mutter, “Y/N, can you not say things like that anymore?”

Slowly and reluctantly, your body obliges to his request, even though his hands that hang helplessly by his side make no demands. You always thought you knew your roommate, Park Jimin, inside and out; but at this moment, as you retract yourself from him and meet those distant, stoic eyes of his, a daunting thought reaches you: have you ever really understood him?

“I don’t…” you stammer, failing to follow through.

Jimin, the gentlest and most considerate boy you know, persists with a voice of conviction that tells you: he speaks not for you and not for your unstable state of mind, but this time, he speaks for himself.

“And can you not hug me like that anymore?”

In the entirety of your open relationship with your roommate, there has never been a single moment when he had managed to crack a dent in your ever-changing barriers. Tonight, however, would be the first. Grabbing ahold of his wrists and gradually unveiling his hands from his pockets until they fall into yours—powerless and still under your touch—your gander over his profile that avoids your watchful gaze settles uncomfortably in your chest.

You’ve always been prideful of the way he would melt like a helpless puddle in your wake, as if you were his Achilles’ heel crafted by destiny itself, but tonight you feel otherwise; and even though guilt manages to halt you in your tracks for the slightest of seconds, your usual tempest demeanor charges through without fear.

“Hey, Jimin, you can be honest with me. I’ll always hear you out. I did last week and I swear I will today, too.”

“That’s the thing,” he says, eyes lifting from the ground to reveal the darkness that stirs in the deep, “the fact that you’re doing this to me shows that you weren’t listening to me at all.”

In a spur of confusion, you can only squeeze his hands, “what… what do you mean?”

What he says next might have been a mere recap of the storm that had blown over last week, but tonight it hits you differently.

“I love you, Y/N,” Jimin articulates. “I confessed to you last week and I told you I wanted to be exclusive. This, hugs, kisses, snuggles, and midnight conversations, I wanted us to be just us… and you denied me of all that, didn’t you?”

“I…” you pause. “I said I would think about it.”

He frowns, “and have you come up with an answer?”

Truthfully, the time to actually sit down and consider the thought had never once crossed your mind. Every moment his proposal of relinquishing your other relationships in exchange for his affection and every fear of losing him as a consequence of your reluctance to commit had been pushed to the back of your mind.

Even for a dense person like you would acknowledge how much that would crush him.

“...no.”

“Then what are you doing to me right now?” he answers plainly, not to hurt but to defend. “You can’t hold me like I’m the only one you want to see.”

You can’t bear to meet his gaze so you look to the ground as he continues.

“You can’t greet me like you’ve finally come home after willingly going out to meet some other guy.”

You can only listen to him in silence.

“You can’t praise me and expect me to welcome you with a wagging tail,” he pauses just as his voice cracks, “when you know how I feel and how I know that everything you say and do with me is the second one of your day when it’s a first of mine.”

So that’s how he felt all this time?

“Jimin,” you say meekly, squeezing his hand but still too ashamed to meet his intent gaze, “I’m sorry I never realized you would interpret it that way… but you know I didn’t understand until now, right?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, “I know you wouldn’t understand.”

“Do you… hate me…?”

He freezes under your hold and all at once you’re scared for your life. Your delight, your way, and your being were all that mattered to you. You’ve never feared the words of another; but right now, as he takes a deep breath and sighs shakily, you realize you’ve been mistaken your entire life.

“No. Even you would know I could never hate you,” Jimin confesses. “I love you and I always will, but this time I can’t just forgive you, Y/N. For the sake of my sanity and for the sake of me⁠—” he brings your hand to feel the heavy pulse against his chest “⁠—I need some space between us.”

“You mean, you need space...” you pause, “...from me.”

His silence is a clear answer. His moving lips demand for you to let go, but he's still hands plea for you to hold on. Why does his body speak one language whilst his mind speaks another?

Then it dawns on you: a hurricane like you would never get it.

You’ve never been the type to truly listen. You’re an impulsive gal who did whatever she wanted whenever she wanted and always did so on her own accord and conditions. To him, you were an uncontrollable, brewing storm—thrilling to observe from afar but perilous to pursue up close.

That night, he packed his bags and he left you in the apartment to escape elsewhere outside of your territories to find a peace of his mind; but after meeting you, the wildest phenomenon that had struck him mercilessly despite his lack of guard, the both of you know there’s no clear cut escape from you, his hurricane.

#bts scenarios #bts angst #bts x reader #bts x you #jimin angst #jimin x reader #jimin x you #bts scenario #bts imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin scenarios #jimin scenario #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bangtan scenarios #jimin imagines #scriptaed

295 notes · View notes

montymcallister · 5 years

Text

Edgewood Challenge: Family Tree

The McAllisters may not have been one of the founding families of Edgewood, but with several large generations of psychics reared within the Veil under their belt, and as a source of old money they’ve been more than happy to invest in the town and city, they’ve been prominent members of the community for a long time.

They are known for their charisma and extroversion, but are also marked by a strong sense of entitlement and need for control. While they have no preferred trade, most of the McAllister line go into fast-paced, high-demand working environments that play to their strengths, but also often enable their faults.

Tatiana and Arthur McAllister – Parents

Monty would never say he really knew who his parents were in the way most kids learned about their parents throughout their lives. Tatiana and Arthur had a very free-range, hands-off style of parenting, especially giving their commitments to work, and even if Monty had managed to snag their attention for longer than a minute or two at a time, it was quickly snatched away by another sibling.

While there was a stretch of time where he’d been near the center of their focus, it had been when his own psychic ability failed to manifest even late into puberty. They never taught him how to shield his mind from other psychics, nor did they actively discourage his siblings from invading his privacy with their abilities. While he never confronted them over it, he also never forgave them for leaving him at such a disadvantage.

He has a healthy respect for them as professionals–though he reserves private judgment on their flippant usage of their own psychic abilities to keep ahead of the curve–but doesn’t feel a particularly strong attachment to them as the sometimes absent, but still supportive and nurturing figures his siblings have described. If they were, he never saw it.

Since his return, Monty has found that--for his father, at least--time and distance seem to have shifted apathy to contempt. If recent interactions are any indication, Monty suspects that if his father had his way, Monty would be properly disowned. For good.

Clarissa McAllister – Older Sister, Born Apr. 18, 1976 (44)

Goes by: Clarissa, Claire

Children: Johnathan Long (Aug. 16, 2001), Sara and Violet Long (Jan. 9, 2006), Eric Long (May 5, 2009)

Ex-Husband: Michael Long

Graduated: 1994

Like her brothers to follow, Clarissa’s presence in the McAllister family home continued even after she’d moved out following the completion of her bachelor’s degree. Most of Monty’s clearer memories of her start around the time her regular visits--ranging from the family dinner every Monday to much more casual stops by to chat in a less formal setting--began.

Though she always showed interest in the things he was working on in school and what hobbies he was picking up, and he admired the great strides she’d made through medical school, it was her prying questions--informed, he knew, by uninvited peerings into his mind when he was unwilling to talk about the subject at hand--that stuck with him the most. Clarissa had an overprotective streak a mile wide and opinions on everything and everyone in his life that seemed to worry her, and it only added fuel to the fire. After years of never being able to come to her in his own time about things he might have wanted her input on, by the time his high school years came around, he was wary of opening up to her in even the slightest ways for fear that it would trigger an onslaught of questions and readings and judgments.

While she never reached out to him in words after he left, she was the one who still tried to invite him to events through Facebook and tagged him in old family photos when she posted them. He never did respond to them, and they dwindled over time, but every once in a while he’d still get notifications when she liked the rare photo he’d share on his own profile.

He was still in Edgewood for the births of three of her four children, though he didn’t spend much time with them before his enlistment. He’s seen pictures via the Facebook pages of his family, but save for Johnathan, he doesn’t have a clear mental picture of any of them. (Which is true for the rest of his siblings’ children, as well.)

Elias McAllister – Older Brother, Born Nov. 30, 1979 (40)

Goes by: Elias

Children: Arthur McAllister (Sep. 1, 2002), Luke McAllister (Jun. 2, 2005)

Wife: Michelle McAllister

Graduated: 1997

Elias, of all of the McAllister boys, was easily the most overbearing. Monty’s memories of him typically began with Elias trying to help him in areas he neither needed nor wanted help in--like math, or attempts to get him to pick up a sport--and ended in Elias giving him grief over something he’d picked up on after digging around with his empathic abilities.

They never had much common ground to stand on. Elias had gone to school for business, and had entrepreneurial and real estate interests, while Monty’s strengths had always lay in STEM, and he’d had few interests beyond that. As the years went on, Monty began to suspect that Elias and Clarissa had taken to comparing their conversations with him, as their probings into his personal life grew more and more focused (and arguably more pointed). Between the pair of them alone, Monty had little interest to remain around the house during their usual visiting hours, lest he risk another unwanted interrogation.

Despite Monty living in Edgwood when Arthur and Luke were born, he didn’t see much of them outside of major family gatherings. He has a vague idea of what they might look like now, and how old they are, but nothing concrete.

Charles McAllister – Older Brother, Born Mar. 8, 1981 (39)

Goes by: Chuck

Children: Henry McAllister (Dec. 7, 2009), Ciara McAllister (May 19, 2012)

Wife: Elizabeth McAllister

Graduated: 1999

Though Chuck was living at home for more of Monty’s own years with their parents than Clarissa or Elias, he is one of the siblings Monty knows the least about outside of their select interactions and snippets of conversations he remembers from family dinners.

For the most part, Chuck was more interested in talking to their parents about finance and investment banking than spending time with one of the youngest members of their clan, which suited Monty just fine. When they did talk, it was generally following one of Chuck’s ‘quick peek’s into Monty’s emotional state, with a heavy emphasis on the things Monty had been trying to ignore. Unlike Elias and Clarissa’s questions, Chuck’s own needling had a tendency to feel a lot sharper, born less of overprotectiveness and more of a willingness to have a laugh at his little brother’s expense.

Monty had been gone for several years by the time the first of Chuck’s children was born. Were it not for pictures online and little status updates about the kids, he wouldn’t know anything about them.

Donovan McAllister – Older Brother, Born Jul. 25, 1984 (36)

Goes by: Donnie, Donovan

Partner: Anthony Carter

Graduated: 2002

Even a handful of years apart as they were, there was a fierce competitiveness that colored many of Donnie and Monty’s interactions. What should have brought them closer together–sharp minds, shared experiences being overshadowed by older siblings, and little ability to turn the tables on said older siblings as far as psychic abilitites went (Donnie with his clairvoyance, and Monty without any psychic ability at all)–firmly drove a wedge between them.

School was a competition for who could get the better grades and win approval from their parents, and for the most part, Donnie’s near-lifelong interest in practicing law and the steps he took in that direction consistently won out over Monty’s inclination for numbers and science, despite Monty consistently earning higher test scores.

And as far as fending off their siblings was concerned, it was every man for himself, and Donnie had no qualms throwing Monty to the wolves if it meant keeping them off his own back.

In recent months, Donnie has taken a keen interest in getting himself involved in the disputes growing between Monty and his parents over the terms of the trust fund they had opened in his name so many years ago. He’s claiming he has no ulterior motives, he just wants to see it put to bed, but with their father having added clauses contingent upon Monty leaving Edgewood for good if he wants to see the full contents of the fund, Monty has his doubts. Strong ones.

Nathaniel McAllister – Older Brother, Born Feb. 22, 1986 (34)

Goes by: Nate, Nathaniel

Fiancee: Lisa Chen

Graduated: 2004

Despite being the sibling closest ot Monty’s age, Nate could not have been more different, and it created many points of contention between them growing up. As kids, Nate had seen his new little brother as direct competion for their shared resources--their parents, what Nate had always seen as his toys, the other kids on their block--and had very little interest in spending time with him.

It came as no surprise, then, that Nate grew to be the embodiment of the worst of the McAllister traits, and few of the better ones. He was a loud, cocksure jock who had easily cliqued up toward the top of the social totempole with the other meathead jocks. That he was an entitled bully and also an idiot (a thought Monty had no qualms in expressing loudly and frequently) just completed the high school jock stereotype.

Neither of them were home much, espeically during high school, but morning encounters at home in the hall that connected their bedrooms (or down in the kitchen, or in the driveway) very rarely didn’t end in fights of some kind. At school, they tended to give one another a wide berth, if for no other reason than to avoid the wrath of their parents should they get caught just shy of--or god forbid, in the middle of--a knockdown, drag-out fight when tempers inevitably came to a head.

If Nate had had a more invasive psychic ability than his aura reading--which had still allowed Nate to glean more than Monty would have liked--there’s no doubt that just putting them in a room together would have been throwing a lit match at a powder keg.

Alexis McAllister – Younger Sister, Born Dec. 2, 1992 (27)

Goes by: Ali, Lexi, Alexis

Graduated: 2011

They were too far apart in age to get to spend much time together in school, but Alexis was easily Monty’s favorite sibling growing up. The only medium of their horde, she had no way of pushing at the boundaries of his psyche, and her more reserved nature meant she never tried to invade his privacy in any other way. He helped her through school, and she occasionally tagged along with him for adventures around Old Edgewood.

When she started to express interest in music, Monty was the first of their family to push her to chase that dream. Though he wasn’t physically present as she felt out her path, he was the sibling she sent song demos to, and was easily one of her biggest supporters.

She is the only one of the McAllister clan he even attempted to maintain contact with during his years away. She did her best to keep him up to date with things going on in their family, and heard about all of his adventures (both fun and stupid) from his time overseas. She’s also who Monty turned to when he started shipping some of his belongings home in anticipation of his return. Without prompting, she rented out a little storage space for it all and put his name on the paperwork, promising that she wouldn’t keep too close an eye on it all, in case he needed some time sorting himself out when he got back before reaching out to her.

If there’s anyone in the McAllister family who really knows him best, hands down it’s Alexis. He regrets having missed two of her graduation ceremonies, now, as well as several big birthday years, and his biggest goal for his time in Edgewood is to start making amends for all the times he wasn’t there to support her.

Harrison McAllister – Younger Brother, Born Oct. 20, 1994 (25)

Goes by: Harrison

Graduated: 2013

Most of Monty’s exposure to Harrison was the occasional night babysitting and maybe helping his kid brother with fractions and multiplication tables. They were far enough apart in age that they were always at very different points in their lives, and didn’t see much overlap in their interests or schedules. When Monty enlisted, Harrison had only just started to really come into his psychometry, and before that, Monty had been careful not to leave anything particularly important anywhere Harrison might find it.

Monty still remembers Harrison as a prepubescent tween more interested in skateboarding and hanging out around town with friends than talking to any of his older siblings. Were it not for Alexis doing her best to keep him in the loop, Monty wouldn’t know that his and Harrison’s interests run much the same these days, or that Harrison’s endgoal is a masters in aerospace engineering.

When he first returned to Edgewood, Monty was wary of reaching out directly to Harrison, in the event that his younger brother had turned out similarly to their older brothers. Through Ali’s hosting of small family dinners of the three of them, and her encouraging them to connect, Monty and Harrison have been building a proper relationship. They’re at a “willing to grab dinner and drinks and shoot the shit” stage, finally, and approaching a point where they might be able to start having deeper, more serious conversations.

(last edited: 7/9/20 - blurbs updated to reflect arc movement)

#edgewoodchallenge #challenge: family tree #hc #i put their DOBs and HS graduation years mostly because i thought it'd be cool to allow for more distant connections via his siblings #OKAY so i'm working on replies and stuff for the event now but i just wanted to post this #cuz it's got the Kenzie stamp of approval #and it's what I've been working on for most of the week

5 notes · View notes

justanartsysideblog · 7 years

Text

Hum a Tune

have some Muppet AU Melarue plotting the takedown of child trafficking rings. Warnings for brief mentions of child abuse. Kass (mention) belongs to @scurvgirl, Agla, Rica, and Lela (mention) belong to @feynites.

---

The anger slowly builds in them, a steady burn on the train ride to Orzammar; they had been in Valammar discussing a business transaction when Kass had called them. And it had brewed, just under their breastbone, throughout their conversation with Agla. But they had tampered it down, like they have done since they’d first learned how to hide their feelings below a veneer of charming indifference.

Agla does not need to see their fury, lest she think it is directed at her. She is afraid, and confused, and Melarue’s anger does not help the situation. They will let it continue to simmer under their skin, stoking it silently until they can unleash it on those who deserve the wrath.

They immediately slip into old ways and old thoughts, when taking a life meant survival and they slept soundly by the end of it all. But this is a different time, Deceit reminds them. A time of law and order and justice—justice, they scoff, justice has never existed, not truly—and they must move within these new parameters to prevent detection.

And so, as soon as they leave Agla and Kassaran in the apartment and head to their own rented vehicle in the parking lot, they dial a number rather than pull out to hunt Beraht down immediately.

Nialas picks up after the third ring, and Melarue can hear raised voices in the background. “Serah Bre’A?” She must be in a public place, to be speaking so formally. Melarue hears the sound of an office door closing, “What’s happened this time? How much paperwork will I need to fill out before the end of the night?”

“That is what I wish to know as well,” Melarue admits. “I am in Orzammar dealing with a…case of largescale child abuse. There is an orphanage that has shown evidence of physical and mental abuse, as well as ties to child trafficking.”

There is a very long pause, and Melarue hears Nialas hiss “Orzammar” under her breath before she clears her throat, “You’ll need to contact the Dwarven Department of Child Services. I can give you the number—what is the orphanage called? I can see if authorities can be sent as well, to help keep the situation under control.”

“It is a casteless orphanage in Dust Town.”

There is a sharp intake of breath, and Melarue counts the seconds that tick by as the silence stretches. That, Melarue supposes, is not a very good sign. Finally Nialas lets out the breath she’s been hold, in a long, heavy sigh, “Damn it all, Melarue. You couldn’t have picked a more problematic situation.”

Melarue taps the steering wheel absently. “Is there a problem?”

“The problem is that they’re casteless, Melarue. My contacts in the Orzammar department couldn’t do anything even if they wanted to and most don’t, the shitheels. I’ve been trying to suggest alternative systems for years, but I don’t have any sway in the Dwarven cities. Usually I am reminded that I should go raid an alienage for some mistreated elvhen children.” The irritation in Nialas’ voice is evident. Melarue must admit that whoever stood up to Nialas and told that to her face was someone with a spine of steel, and also a fool. “I can give you the names of a few people that might be able to tell you more, but there’s no way a Dwarven court is going to take that case seriously. At the most the orphanage owners will have to pay a fine.”

A slap on the wrist, after all they’ve done, because they don’t see those children as people. “What if the information were leaked to the surface?”

“Surface authorities can’t do anything. And you know how it is, Melarue. The humans don’t care about a few dead dwarves anymore than they do elvhen or vashoth ones, and the Chantry is the only power strong enough to even put up a threat. The elves and the vashoth can barely look after their own.”

“So there are no legal means of rectifying this?” Melarue’s voice sounds distant, even to themselves. They’ve already begun planning alternate routes, making paths sprout from imagined scenarios, weighing the pros and cons.

“None that would save those children, no.” Nialas answers, and she sounds frustrated with herself more than anything else.

“Very well.” Their voice is clipped, they know, far colder than Nialas deserves, as she apologizes and Melarue hangs up and stares at the dashboard and the nearly empty parking lot beyond the window shield.

They really had wanted to work within the law, this time.

They dial a second number from memory, and wait. They fear, as the ringing echoes in their ear, that it will go to voicemail, before the line connects, and they hear the static-y shuffle of someone moving, followed by a slightly breathless voice, “Old Mel?”

Melarue hums, “I do believe I’ve changed my phone number since the last time I’ve spoken with you, Serah Cadash.”

“You have,” Maibrit agrees, and seems to decide that’s enough of an answer. “Please tell me there isn’t a crime scene you need me to cover up because I am really busy right now.” There’s a second voice, muffled and soft, barely audible in the background.

“Please give my regards and apologies to your fiancé. The situation demanded I call someone of your talents and knowledge.”

“I didn’t think you cared for astrophysics and engineering, Serah!” Maibrit chirps, “Did you finally decide to help fund my Lesbians in Space project?”

“Unfortunately it is your other talents that I require.”

“Figured,” Maibrit mutters with a sigh. Melarue hears more muffled voices, as Maibrit places her hand on the speaker and speaks with her fiancé Lela, before her voice comes through clear and crisp once more. “Am I finally going to be clear of my debt after this?”

“It would seem that way.” Melarue acknowledges. “How much of a hold do you have over the judicial courts in Orzammar?”

“Did you murder someone in Orzammar?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh, not yet, that’s comforting,” Maibrit groans. “Well my grandmother still holds Orzammar. I haven’t been able to get a foothold in, aside from some informants. She has most of the courts under her thumb. Why?”

“How likely would she be in aiding me in dealing with an illegal trafficking ring involving casteless children?”

“You mean disregarding the fact that you helped her heir set up a rival syndicate under her nose and protect said heir’s fiancé? Unlikely,” Maibrit answers readily. “The reason that The Old Nug has managed to keep her hold over the dwarven cities as the only syndicate is because she protects the old ways for them. She doesn’t push the stuffy traditionalists or try and change their laws. She isn’t going to stick her neck out for casteless children, even if Carta doesn’t feel kindly about child trafficking.”

“That is unfortunate,” Melarue agrees, frowning. “That being said, how likely would she be in investigating the…violent dismantling of said trafficking ring?”

“That’s where you’re in luck,” Melarue can almost hear the smile in Maibrit’s voice, “Because even if she won’t help you take them down, she also isn’t going to try very hard to find out who did, even if the Orzammar council asks her to, which they likely won’t. It doesn’t benefit her to waste resources on something she doesn’t care about and they know it just as well as I do.”

Melarue nods, “Do any of your informants know where I could find a dwarven man by the name of Beraht?”

“I’ll look into it.” Maibrit promises. “Anything else?”

“I may find myself in need of a safe place for several dozen casteless children.”

“Lela and I were thinking about adopting but I don’t think we planned on that many,” Maibrit jokes, “I’ll talk with my Orzammar contacts and see if there is a safehouse. We can work from there to get them out of the city.”

“Thank you, Serah Cadash.”

“I’ll send you the information as soon as I get it.” The line goes dead, and Melarue leans back and closes their eyes. So much to do, so little time…the window of opportunity is slipping them by. They need to get to Rica soon.

They know what it is like, that life, and they wish it on no one.

Memories begin to climb out of the depths where they’ve buried them, and they tsk and turn on the engine. No need to remember those unpleasant things, not when they have work to do.

Their phone rings again, and the recognize the number as Nialas’. “Serah Nialas?”

There’s a pause, before Nialas speaks. “Listen there’s…I may know someone on the surface who could take all those children. She owns an orphanage outside of Gwaren. But you’d have to get the children handed over to you and get them there.”

Finally, something pieces are beginning to click into place. “I can pay for transportation from the surface.”

“I’ll call Sylmae and let her know. I’ll message you her number as well. And Melarue?”

“Mm?”

“Make sure you dispose of the bodies properly.”

“I would never break the law, serah,” Melarue drawls.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, when they pull out of the parking lot, it’s with a message from Maibrit with the last known location of Beraht and the knowledge that once they’ve plastered the remains of him and the orphanage owners on the walls, they’ll have a safe place to take the children.

They begin to hum a tune.

It’s been a while since they’ve had a chance to let Deceit stretch its legs.

I agree, Deceit laughs, and the sound is not kind.

Melarue hums a little louder.

#muppet au #mel means business #do not get between melarue and children it won't work out well #melarue #maibrit #nialas

12 notes · View notes