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daisychainsandbowties · 8 months

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what is it about that season one shoulder pat you love so much??

i have a bit of a fascination with what i call character thesis moments. they’re… these sort of pivotal, revealing scenes or even just (as in this case) a gesture that makes me fall head-over-heels for a character. and also understand them.

with ava, it was the beach run scene. for lilith, the grey hoodie scene where she asks ava “can you forgive me?” for mary it was the first scene, cradling shannon’s head and shutting her eyes and the love in every inch of every gesture. (that’s the first sign i think that warrior nun is a story about love, and survival, and in not surviving but loving anyway).

now, i’ll admit that i adored beatrice from “i thought she’d be a handful” and “faith is my business” but frankly… neither of those scenes show us who she is. i think the closest we get to HER is at the bus stop, where you watch her choose her friends over her duty, choose love over sacrifice (for the first, but not the last time).

and then… god, that shoulder slap. i can’t explain how it made me feel.

up until that point, beatrice is such a whirlwind of a character. she’s lethal, she faces down a gun with frightening disregard for her own life. she drops a tear onto shannon’s cheek as she gasps out a very rehearsed goodbye. she catches ava when she slips out of that wall, she cries over an old journal and in all that time she’s fighting so hard to remain unseen.

and then, in one gesture, she reveals who she is. if you look closely, you see how fiercely beatrice fights to hold herself, but especially her hands, in check. they are either weapons or they’re things she lets out with the greatest care. they are caring but also tentative, like moths desperately trying not to touch the flame.

if you look carefully you also see that beatrice can’t help but touch ava. she tries and tries, but then they’re in the vatican and she’s suddenly this young, smiling creature trading puns, rushing through a cloud of dust to pry ava from the wreckage of her faith, from the arms of an angel. i just think, when i saw that shoulder slap i realised how much there was to beatrice.

she’s this… ball of contradictions. she’s a nun, she came up with Cruella de Jesus. she’s faithful, she’s queer, she’s resigned to the death of everyone she loves. she’s a weapon, and yet… you look at her doing that slightly goofy shoulder slap and it betrays a sense of ‘i want to touch you and i don’t know what to do about it.’ and in that you realise that she’s everything you thought and she’s also… mischievous? slightly boyish? a fool who is already more than half in love.

i remember feeling so fond of her, so suddenly, because out of the clear blue you realise that she’s drawn to this, to this girl who told her not to hate what she is, not to hate what she craves which is touch… a certain something she doesn’t dare to name, but still she reaches out and THAT is beatrice to me.

she’s a pair of empty hands, a bottle of lightning, and for all her confidence, for all that she is undeniably so cool and calm under pressure, so absolutely lethal; she’s also young, and she doesn’t know what to do about what she feels. it terrifies her, fascinates her, makes her hands move almost of their own accord.

there is ava, who is the point around which she is supposed to rally. halobearer, holy, doomed. that little pat in the shoulder… when i take it from ava’s perspective i’m in awe, because they don’t quite understand each other yet. it’s a candleflame to the incandescence of their kiss but it’s the first time bea reaches out not to catch her, or capture her, or carry her, but simply to touch.

it’s a very blunt and beautiful reassurance and that’s what they are to each other; they’re comfort, safety, acceptance. and that throwaway moment to me is the thesis of bea’s character arc. it’s the choosing to touch, to reach out, to hold onto what she loves.

and for ava it’s sacred too. how many times in her life do you imagine she’s been touched the way beatrice touches her? the way she balances ava’s jaw in her hands when she falls from the wall, smiling at her like she’s a miracle. beatrice who is the voice in the dark and the cold, who tears down a wall to reach her because she promised and she kept it. touch is everything to ava, and i think there’s just something so special about that moment; beatrice just saying, wordlessly, ‘you’re good, you’re here, i’ve got your back.’ it’s not condescending it’s a gesture that i think demonstrates to ava that she’s not alone anymore, and it kindles the hope that she never will be again.

#warrior nun #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #it’s just! special and silly and important to me i’m sorry i know this is mostly incoherent #anon

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possibilistfanfiction · 5 months

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Prompt for your little Hallmark AU: Christmas market (You know, those markets where there are booths who sell Glühwein and Punsch, Im not sure how to correctly translate it in English in Austria we call it Christkindlmarkt)

it’s grey outside, the clouds heavy but not quite snowing yet; it’s warmer than it’s been on clearer days, still cold but almost pleasant, and quiet.

you make sure to give yourself extra time to do your stretches in the morning after you go to camila’s to get breakfast. the atmospheric pressure of the incoming storm is, unsurprisingly, causing your back to ache, but that’s not new and it doesn’t really faze you at this point. if things get bad enough — and they do, sometimes — you just reschedule your plans and take pain meds and muscle relaxers from dr salvius after you do your physical therapy exercises. but your hands don’t ache and you don’t have any numbness in your feet, your temperature is normal, and so you go through your routine and feel better by the end of it.

beatrice picks you up at eleven on the dot, as she confirmed twice over text the evening before with perfect punctuation that made you feel a little bit like you were in trouble but was charming anyway.

‘hey stranger,’ you say when she knocks on your door, and she blushes and smiles and you’re delighted by the effect you have on her, almost immediately — this exceedingly smart and competent person stumbling over herself the second you smile. it makes you feel powerful and it also makes you want to treat her kindly, to make her laugh.

‘good morning, ava.’ she fidgets, for a moment, and you’re curious why you’re not just going to her truck, but then she takes a hand out of the pocket of her peacoat and opens her palm. ‘i, uh, i noticed your cane was getting stuck in the snow.’

‘oh.’ your first instinct is to be embarrassed, eleven years of abuse rearing its ugly, awful head, but then you look at what she’s actually holding.

‘i already had it,’ she explains, slightly rushed like she’s trying to make sure you’re not upset, like it was just a thoughtful aside of hers. ‘i tore my acl a few years ago and used both on my crutches, and so, i just figured, well… if it doesn’t work, that’s fine, but maybe worth a try?’

you take the winter cane tip attachment from her outstretched hand and it really does feel like some kind of offering for a moment. it’s nice, the crampon itself retractable, and easy enough to put on your cane. when you try it outside the door on the way to her truck, you can’t help but smile, remember a little bit of the joy that first came with movement as you started receiving proper care and accessibility and mobility aids. you don’t take healing for granted, even now. ’thank you,’ you tell her as she unlocks her truck and goes around to the driver’s side.

she nods. ‘like i said, i already had it sitting around. not a problem at all.’

‘still,’ you say, climbing up and twisting around to greet a suddenly very excited theo in her kennel strapped into the backseat. ‘not many people have been particularly thoughtful in my life, especially not at this.’

she frowns at your admission, her jaw clenching, her face stormy. she’s handsome in her rich maroon scarf and camel wool coat, careful hands on the wheel.

‘anyway,’ you say, a little overcome, ‘how’d you tear your acl?’

she immediately reddens, pulling out of the driveway and trying to act like she’s concentrating very hard on her turn signal to merge onto the completely empty road.

‘bea, please.’

she sighs, refusing to look at you even at the red light. ‘i was training with theo,’ she says.

‘that’s not horribly embarrassing on its own.’ you grin. ‘there’s got to be more to it.’

‘fine,’ she says, mostly just to humor you, you’re pretty sure. ‘she was small, and we were both learning how to herd. i, well — i tripped over one of the sheep.’

you wait a beat to picture it and then laugh, not unkindly but without any remorse. ‘thank you truly so much for telling me.’

she rolls her eyes. ‘you’re so welcome,’ she says flatly, and you laugh again.

you’re confused if your little outing to the christmas market is a date or not for the two minutes it takes for beatrice to park the car, get the small pack holding treats that she carries around for theo buckled around her waist — a little nerdy and totally adorable — and then letting theo out of the kennel. she’s in a little green coat, the same as the other day, and it kind of makes you feel like you’re going to scream, she’s so cute. she greets you fully now, with happy little wiggles, and then situates herself at beatrice’s side. she has a leash connected to her harness, the other half slung over beatrice’s shoulder and across her chest so her hands are free; you think theo doesn’t need it at all, but beatrice explains, ‘in crowded public access areas, it’s appropriate.’ theo, for her part, is busy sniffing a few treats beatrice scattered around her feet in the snow, and then she smiles at you and gestures to head inside.

you’re confused no longer when you see camila’s booth, advertising hot chocolate, apple cider, and egg nog, and she whistles. ‘beatrice, you look so nice with your fancy jacket.’

beatrice glares.

camila turns to face you fully, a smirk on her face. ‘she never wears that unless it’s a special occasion.’

you can’t help yourself: ‘well, i am a special occasion, if i do say so myself.’

’no one else is saying it,’ lilith grumbles from her seat behind camila, and beatrice fights a laugh while you pout.

‘you look nice too, ava,’ camila says, keeping the peace as you’ve quickly figured out she always does.

you preen a little, just for the fun of it. ‘why thank you. i love your sweater.’

camila looks down at her jesus was palestinian sweater. ‘’tis the season and all that.’ she beams at you, then beatrice. ‘well, what can i get you both on this romantic outing?’

beatrice sighs in defeat but you grin and look at the menu. ‘well, i’m on vacation and bea picked me up—‘ camila perks up even more at this— ‘so i’m going to do your bailey’s hot chocolate.’

‘i’ll have a cider,’ bea says, and you shoo away her attempt to pay for things, which brings a blush back to her cheeks when you tap your card with a pointed flourish.

you go through the market with your warm drinks, your cane not sinking into the snow as it had been the past few days, making everything easier, simpler, less nervous with every step. once you have half of your hot chocolate, you lean into beatrice with a smile, and she offers her arm, all clove and pine and her soft scarf. there are booths with ornaments, knitted coasters; you convince her to buy a pretty wreath for the front door of her cabin, which you kind of hope she’ll invite you to see.

it starts to snow when you’re about to leave, the sky darkening early, and she feed theo a few treats before she situates her in the kennel.

it’s quiet when she starts the truck, and she seems nervous, her hands white knuckled around the steering wheel. ‘i apologize if i was presumptuous.’

you soften. ‘that was a really wonderful date, bea. you can be as presumptuous as you want.’

her smile is shy, bathed in the waning light. ‘well, in that case, would you like to come to my house for dinner?’

‘yes, obviously.’

she laughs. ‘alright then.’

#hallmark au #avatrice #wn fic #avatrice fic #prompts #first date!!!#butch bea 🥺🫡

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birgittesilverbae · 10 months

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hitched fic, a moment for either/both of them where they look at the other and think 'hmm, maybe i won't mind being married to that goober', not that big italicized Oh, but that tiny little ...huh

"You disappeared," Ava calls out as she picks her way carefully down the stairs to the dock. The treads are still damp with the prior day's rain and fallen leaves lie slick on the wood.

Bea glances back towards her from her spot at the very edge of the dock, shrugs a sweater-clad shoulder. "I just needed some air. You didn't have to come down."

"What, and stay up there with a solo front row seat to Ms. and Ms. Disgustingly In Love? No, thank you." She comes to a halt at the path curving along the lakeshore, eyeing the dock distrustfully. No handrails to grab onto there; she'd need to mention that to Mary when they returned to the cottage.

"Have you stayed out here with them before?"

Ava shakes her head, then realises Bea can't see the movement. "Just on day trips, I used to bartend part-time and I'd pick up shifts on long weekends. Never worked out that I could stay overnight."

Bea hums to herself, tucks her hands in her pockets. "The last time I was here it was with Lucia."

"Ah. No wonder you needed to step away. Do you want me to leave you to it, or…?"

Bea turns fully towards her then, her breath clouding in the air with every breath. "No," she replies, striding back up the dock towards her, "I always appreciate your company."

Ava ducks her chin towards her chest, her face growing hot. She doesn't know that she'll ever get used to the ease with which Bea just says things like that, or to how clear it is that she doesn't understand the effect it has on Ava. She clears her throat and kicks at a clump of leaves. "Yeah, well, the only other option is third-wheeling them while they talk about colour schemes with Yas, so…"

"Are they still pretending they haven't already decided on navy and sage?"

"Mary was going on about coral when I made my escape."

Bea laughs softly. "She does know how to push every single one of Shannon's buttons." She proffers her arm to Ava, nods towards the path. "Would you be up for a turn about the lake?"

"Gladly." She clasps Bea's forearm, turns in time with her to start down the path. Her thumb strokes absently across the thick weave of Bea's sleeve. "I like this sweater too," she remarks, "but I'm appropriately dressed for the weather this time, so don't even think about offering it to me."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I'm glad to hear you've figured out how to check a forecast."

"Didn't want to risk another round of mockery."

"It was gentle ribbing, if anything."

"'Oo, Ava, you're going to freeze your nipples off'."

"I absolutely do not sound like that, and I definitely did not say 'nipples'."

"You might not have said it, but…" Bea's arm stiffens beneath her hand, and Ava scrambles to backtrack. She gestures up at the trees, limbs skeletal in the cool air. "Ironic, don't you think, that we're here looking at this as a wedding venue when everything's in the middle of dying off for winter?"

Bea tips her head back to follow the direction of Ava's hand. Her face goes a bit shuttered, cheeks pink with the chill, eyelashes fluttering. "It'll be beautiful come spring, though," she replies softly.

Gaze locked on Bea, on the gentle fall of loose strands of hair across her cheek, on the constellation of freckles scattered over her cheeks, Ava can't help but agree.

#ask #selifator #fic: hitched #warrior nun #mywn #myfic #ava x beatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #avatrice

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kendrene · 11 months

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20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear + whichever ship your heart desires 🙃

Ava coming home from the bar at the end of an afternoon shift, the village unusually quiet around her. Streets empty, the houses hunkered down, squatting almost, as rain-promising clouds roll in from the north, bellies low, scraping the bottom of the valley.

A first drop of rain hits her shoulder. Cold, it sends chills down her spine. Ava is dressed for earlier heat. Tank top. Shorts. Second hand shoes that feel one step away from coming apart.

Hunching her shoulders, body curling around her prize. The croissants inside the paper bag are leftovers from the bakery - Ava got them half-price. The ones Beatrice loves, that she rarely allows them to get. They're on a budget. They need to save what they earn.

Ava thinks in part it's just excuses. Suspects that a big part of Bea, who is so efficient in taking care of her, doesn't know how to be nice to herself.

The stairs leading up to the apartment. Old and creaky, but after weeks of Beatrice teaching Ava how to move she doesn't make a sound. Ava sneaking in, pausing as Beatrice's voice drifts to her from their shared bedroom.

"I don't know how to protect her." Bea's tone is forcibly flat, tension crystallised, carefully trapped behind each word. "What I'm feeling for her-" Bea pausing. Ava unable breathe. "Yes Mother. I understand."

Heavy silence settling in. The conversation clearly ended. Then, another muted sound and Ava's stomach dropping at the understanding of what it is.

Beatrice is crying.

Ava wanting to be angry at Mother Superion for making Bea cry, angrier that she can't. It's because of her Beatrice is crying, and lashing out would mean letting her know that she heard. Letting her know that she, too, feels-

Stomping into the kitchen, she makes enough noise that Beatrice emerges from the bedroom in a hurry, a knife held in her hand. Her eyes, red and a touch puffy the only sign of her emotional distress.

"I brought snacks!" Ava reveals the croissants with a flourish. Puts on a smile she does not really feel. Beatrice opens her mouth, eyebrows drawn, and Ava hurries to add that she got the croissants on sale. They could have them for breakfast in the morning, or heat them up now. In the small toaster oven the last tenant left, the way Bea taught her to do so that the pastry doesn't go all floppy and wet.

Bea has taught her so many things.

The can do whatever she likes.

"I think we could have them now." Bea's smile, a little strained but there. Like glimpses of sunlight through quilted clouds after the rain. "I'll brew us some tea."

Things clicking in a different way. How they move around inside their tiny kitchen without jostling. Ava grabbing the plates stored in the cupboards over Bea's head. Beatrice reaching behind her for their stash of tea. There's little left, Ava notes, her mind stumbling over the smallest of details so that she doesn't have to think of what she heard.

Bea has feelings for her.

Bea likes her. Likes her back, likes her back, likes her back.

And later that night the bed being too small to contain their tired bodies and their shared secret. Ava making sense of the nightmares that wake Beatrice up. Of the nights when Bea doesn't come to bed at all, nights in which she sits by the window, keeps watch until dawn.

Afraid to fall asleep and wake up tangled, warm back against her front. The stretch of space between them a chasm. An intractable ocean. Their bodies obeying other laws - like hydrogen and oxygen the two of them a whole that can't be decomposed.

Beatrice stammering apologies in the light of morning. Ava waving them away. I know. She says by looks and touch alone. I feel it too.

I love you.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava x beatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #dren writes

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piratekane · 1 year

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hey buddy!! for ur prompt thing u should do either 12 or 27 for avatrice pls and thank u :)

twenty-seven: i can't think when you keep looking at me like that

Ava pulls her legs up under her and turns, propping her chin over the back of the couch. Bea is in the kitchen, putting away the last of the orange chicken neither of them could finish. A movie plays on the television behind them, some romantic comedy Ava suggested on the recommendation of a customer, but she doesn't care about pausing it so Bea doesn't miss anything.

It's not good. She's never taking Eduardo's advice again. He promised her his girlfriend loved it, but Ava is starting to question her taste in men and movies.

"Ava?" Bea calls.

Ava pops up off the couch, bounding the few feet from the living room to the kitchen. She liked the open concept floor plan, being able to see all the space they had. And it felt like so much. She could fit at least 15 of her going in one direction. But mostly she liked the way that no matter where she was in this place they called home, she could see Beatrice.

She eases up as she gets to the island in the kitchen. "Reporting for duty."

Bea shakes her head, a slight smile on her face. Ava likes this smile almost more than she likes any of Bea's other smiles. This one feels like it carries the most affection, like she knows Ava is ridiculous and can't help but love her for it.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to keep the rice." Bea holds the to-go container, still mostly full.

Ava means to answer her. She does. A yes is on the tip of her tongue. But her eyes get caught on Bea - on the tank top she's wearing and how it accentuates the coiled muscles of her arm where they hold the rice mid-air. She breathes out shallowly.

She's not above thinking Bea is hot. And she'll tell that to anyone who asks. And to anyone else who doesn't.

"Ava," Bea says slowly. "What is it?"

Ava shakes her head, slowly rounding the island, feeling the cool granite against her bare arm where her t-shirt ends. "You're just so..." She whistles low, wiggling an eyebrow.

Bea laughs a little. "Ava."

"What?" She slides up into Bea's space, taking the rice container out of her hand and setting to back down on the countertop. Bea looks down at the her, amused, as Ava pushes in a little closer, their hips pressed together. Her fingertips walk down Bea's arm to her waist, curling in the hem of her soft t-shirt.

Casual-Bea is her favorite: loose shorts and soft t-shirts and hair brushing the tops of her shoulders. Really, every Bea is her favorite, but right now, it's definitely this version of Bea. She crushes the soft cotton in her hand and then lets her fingernails scratch lightly at the skin under it. She doesn't miss the slight shiver under her fingertips and she grins. Bea's eyes narrow in warning, but Ava can read through it and doesn't let it slow her down.

Ava presses her whole palm to Bea's couch-warm skin, curling around her waist. Her other hand settles on Bea's bare arm, sliding until her fingers are pressed to Bea's neck. She'll never get tired of touching; is trying to make up for what feels like years of missing this. Bea tells her she's being dramatic. That it was just a few months on this side of the Arc, but she always brushes a careful hand through Ava's hair like she knows it was much longer for Ava.

"Ava," Bea says slowly. Her eyes are starting to cloud a little and darken. Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip and Ava's eyes follow it, feeling her own throat go dry.

This Bea is her favorite: unafraid of showing what she's feeling, uninhibited. Unashamed. She knows how much work Bea has to put into letting herself feel things out loud. And honestly, that's the sexiest thing about Bea. All the aikido and the knife skills and the way she can crack a walnut with one hand pales in comparison to how free Bea looks.

A firm hand goes to her hip, squeezing lightly to catch her attention. "What are you thinking?" Bea asks, too quiet for the silence of their apartment.

It takes her a minute to hear the words. She's too caught up in the way that Bea has taken her bottom lip in between her teeth gently, letting it go slowly. "Honestly?" she finally says. "I can't think with you looking at me like that."

Bea's eyes sparkle a little. "Like what?"

"Like..."

But Ava has always been held back by words. So she holds onto what she was going to say, traps it behind her teeth and leans in, kissing Bea instead. It's slow, unhurried, and exactly the kiss Ava dreamed about for months in their tiny apartment; the kind of kiss she fought her way through hell for. Bea sighs against her lips, tilting her head to their mouth slant together like that's what they were made for.

Ava slowly works up the bottom of Bea's shirt, inching it higher and higher until a hand comes down on hers, trapping it.

Bea breaks away. "Dinner."

"Cold Chinese is the best Chinese," she argues quickly, darting back in to kiss Bea again.

Bea laughs against her lips. It's the prettiest sound Ava has ever heard. "I think you need to put it in the refrigerator for it to be the kind of cold that makes it good."

Ava groans but pulls away, rushing through closing the to-go containers, putting the reusable chopsticks in the sink to deal with later, and leaning over the couch to turn off Eduardo's horrible movie suggestion. She pauses, leaning against the back of the couch, and exhales.

Bea tips her head to one side and smiles. It warms something in the pit of Ava's stomach and she knows, if she really had to, she'd walk through hell every time to get this back. Nothing could hold her back.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #i came i saw i tried #now i can crawl back into my blanket den and hide away #hope you like it liam! you're a rockstar

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littlestarlost · 1 year

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eve, in the garden (an avatrice ficlet)

Ava is generally fascinated by all the things Beatrice does, but it’s all the fruit that finally sends her over the edge.

Beatrice, who slices her apples into perfect sixteenths and peels mandarins while keeping the skin in one piece.

Beatrice, who always rests the strawberry against her lips before taking a bite, as if in reverent prayer.

(It’s a look Ava has only seen when they're in the throes of passion, and when Bea eats strawberries.)

Beatrice, who eats green grapes by peeling the skin off first, using only her teeth and tongue.

(Ava makes herself come just by grinding her thighs together, panting hot into the corner of the pillow so Beatrice won’t wake up.)

Beatrice only buys things when they’re in season, so it isn’t until the first nip of October that she brings home a pomegranate. She actually brings home five—only one of which is going into the chutney she wants to try, but they were on sale—and as Ava helps put away the groceries she can’t help but drift towards them. Spending twelve years unable to feel has made her a glutton for novelty, even to this day; the chance to feel something new is still a shining golden treasure. Her sensory-hungry hands are immediately drawn to the pomegranate’s taut flesh, the healthy weight of it in her palm, the way something gives just a little under the surface when she applies the slightest pressure.

“How do you eat these?” Ava asks, her mouth already watering for some reason. “Is the skin good? Can I just go full apple, or this another rambutan situation?”

Beatrice laughs, her joy like pealing bells on a Saint’s day. “Not quite, but there is kind of a trick to them. Would you like me to show you?”

Ava nods. “Yes, please,” she says, voice low. She can’t help herself when Beatrice shows her things.

They have to finish putting the groceries away first—Beatrice, as always, is an edging queen—and then Ava has to do the dishes she left in the sink from this morning. But eventually things are to Beatrice’s liking (Ava would do a million dishes just to see that specific calm smile), and they stand together by the sink: Beatrice filling a bowl with lukewarm water, and Ava with her chin planted on her hands like a brat.

“Watch this,” Beatrice flashes the tiniest smirk, twirling a paring knife between her fingers before stabbing it into the top of the pomegranate, cutting a neat circle around the calyx and removing it as casually as she might kill a man with her bare hands. “Now, do you see the white pith inside, in between the seeds? You have to peel that off, and it’s often easiest to do in water, like so.” She slices a few straight lines down the pomegranate before submerging it in the bowl and cracking it open like a spine, which sends a delightful shiver down Ava’s own back.

In Beatrice’s hands, everything becomes holy. The water bath is a baptism, the squirt of juice blooming blood-red like a temple crowned with thorns; the pith floats to the surface like clouds as the arils sink to the bottom of the bowl. They don’t pop out of the pomegranate easily; Beatrice has to coax them off the pith, her thumb stroking the seeds until they submit. She pulls up a handful—tiny seeds, once held in bondage and now freed, pearly pink and nearly translucent around the edges. The water runs through her fingers in rivulets.

“Here,” Beatrice breathes, as if speaking too loud might shatter the moment. She takes an aril from her cupped palm and raises it to Ava’s lips, her fingers lingering as Ava’s tongue darts out to receive it. “Close your eyes.”

Ava obeys, eyelashes fluttering as she bites down on the tiny seed. There’s a burst of tart-sweet juice on her tongue, a gentle crunch—refreshing and intriguing and gone far too soon.

“Delicious,” she groans with pleasure.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #warrior nun fanfic #more to be added later #i just wanted to write something with 666 words today and this is that #pomegranate inspired smut to follow on AO3 probably #stay tuned #ava has definitely thought about all the ways beatrice eats everything

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bechloesupercorp · 1 year

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It was too beautiful of a day. Cruel, really, the sun that cast a soft glow onto Bea’s face whenever Ava stole a glance. The blonde highlights reflected with each powerful attack, fending off Tarasks like it wasn’t even a challenge. What a dream this life was. Ava fell more in love each day.

She couldn’t wait. Once they were done all this, they’d walk into the sunset and dance under the stars. Bea wrapped in her arms, grass tickling their feet. Spinning ‘round and ‘round and ‘round til the sun came up. She could feel the weight of her lover in her hands, tying her to the earth. The soft, Don’t fly away from me darling, in her ear. Never. In this life and the next.

The battle was coming to a close, leaving room to breathe. Ava took a deep breath, crisp air filling her lungs. The cruciform sword hung loosely in her hand as she swung around, searching. The wind blew, frosting over the edges of her fingertips.

She smiled, eyes flitting over her sisters. Camila, with the fierce look in her eyes as she took down an adversary. Lilith, flying above with a fond glare. Her sisters. For such lonely children, neither Ava nor Beatrice had ever expected to be surrounded by so much love.

Beatrice. Their eyes met, Beatrice’s gaze softened, and an unbelievable lightness bloomed in Ava's chest. A quip danced on Ava’s lips as she started to approach.

It only took a second. Bea’s eyes went impossibly wide – a blade protruding sharply from her chest. Dark red dripped from her lips, taunting. The breath fled from Ava’s chest, replaced by seething rage.

Ava watched in horror as the sword was retracted. Beatrice slumped to the ground, mouth falling slack. A harsh glow erupted all around, a final anguished pulse to save her love.

No such luck.

Beatrice didn't even stir, eyes wide and unseeing, as Ava fell to her knees. Her torso crashed against the pavement, heart shattering in a million tiny pieces. The rough concrete shredded into her skin. It didn't matter. She couldn't feel it anyways.

But she felt it: the second that Bea left. Like a hand wrenching out her heart. It was all that she could feel. The deep despair as she stared at her slain lover, Halo dark and heavy in her back. Face pressed against the freezing pavement, she cast her eyes to the sky, watching the clouds shift as relentless tears pricked at her eyes.

They floated above, ignorant to the immense loss and the crater in Ava's heart. It was almost as if she could just pretend, just for a second, that they were back in the Alps. Side by side on the picnic blanket Bea had picked up one day, after the third time Ava'd rolled down the sloping hills, dragging Bea into staring at the clouds, searching for shapes, with the sun on their faces. Grass stains, Ava, are incredibly difficult to remove, Beatrice had remarked, laying out their mat. That hadn't stopped Ava anyways. But Beatrice had never complained, only strolled behind her while she lovingly rolled her eyes. If only she could pretend, just once more, that the hard pavement that she couldn't feel was the soft grass and the distant human in her ears was the chirp of the songbirds and the whistle of the wind through the mountains. Those were the times where she'd really felt free. There, with Beatrice, far enough away that they could just be. Ava let it wash over her, the same way she'd done for years, paralysed in an orphanage bed.

A soft hand ran its way down her cheek, and she wanted to follow it, but the calluses were all wrong. Fuzzy voices drifted into focus as she was dragged back to the real world. Camila's head appeared as she was shifted onto her back.

“Hold on Ava, we’ll get you out of here,” she promised, determination written on her face.

Ava simply turned silently back to Bea, tears dripping as she watched Lilith drop defeatedly onto her heels. So it was true.

Ava gulped, energy draining further from her limbs. Paralysed again. A bittersweet smile turned the corners of her mouth.

"We loved you both," she promised. The Halo still laid dark between her shoulder blades.

"No! Ava-"

The ghost of a familiar hand danced along hers. Calluses all in the right places. Sensation rippled through her body, up her arm and spreading.

“We loved you. And we’re sorry.”

Warm fingers brushed over her knuckles, before settling in her palm. Slowly solidifying and weighing heavily in her hand, her shakily fingers came up to grasp back. An easy smile fell over her lips, even as the Halo stayed extinguished in her back.

Soft crunching approached, Lilith appearing at the edge of Ava's vision, cradling something – someone – with the utmost gentleness. A familiar hand dangled at her peripheral, limp and stained with blood.

There was no mistaking the steady stream of tears running down the sisters faces, nor the stuttering breaths.

As Lilith laid Bea down beside her, Ava couldn't stifle her sob. She could feel the hand in hers tighten, like a promise.

It's time. She smiled weakly, apology in her eyes as she breathed,"In the next," and then they were gone.

— — —

They'd seen. They'd seen the light slowly leave Ava's eyes, Camila sobbing into Lilith’s embrace.

It was only when they'd looked up, that they'd seen. The faint glow of the Halo, and the outline of two lovers, walking away, hand in hand.

#yolo #warrior nun #sister beatrice #ava silva #hcs #avatrice #boink scribbles

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ritsuuu-0206 · 1 year

Text

School AU, cute fluffy puppy love🥹

With Ava being a constant presence in her life, Bea realises that she never wants to leave Ava. Ava is the sun in her gloomy life, chasing away the dark clouds from her mind and only making her focus on the present. When Bea said she likes (interest), Ava would always bring (interest) for her. Ava makes Bea feel seen and is the only one who would listen to her list down every info about (interest) attentively, even going as far as asking questions that will make them think about it.

Soon, Bea realises that she likes Ava. She doesn't question the feeling now, but she starts to feel shy whenever Ava is too close, blushing whenever their hands would so much as brush against each other. It's embarrassing to admit but those brief touches would occupy her mind for the whole day, trying her best not to smile too much as she gently touches her hands. On one hand, her feelings give her so much happiness, thinking about spending time with Ava makes her giddy and she looks forward to it.

On the other hand, she's worried about her parents. She's worried how they would react if they found out she thinks of Ava as more than a best friend. She knows they are concerned about appearances, knows how anything she does could probably affect them. She's afraid of the consequences her feelings might have. And she's worried that Ava might not feel the same way. But dealing with Ava is easier than dealing with her parents.

Ava would introduce her to different types of desserts and Bea will learn that she has a sweet tooth. She would look forward to anything Ava would let her try whenever they're together. Once Ava knew that, she would always bring some candy with her, sharing them with Bea during school.

Ava likes to give Bea flowers. One thing Ava noticed about Bea is that she is interested in having knowledge, things that she herself wants to learn. So whenever she brings her a flower, she would excitedly ask Bea about the flower's meaning. They would go to the library to research the flower, sometimes becoming slightly gloomy when they come across flowers with sad meanings. When Bea spends a little more time on certain flowers, Ava would catalogue it in her mind, determined to find those flowers for her. She noticed that those flowers are mostly about love and looking at Bea's distant expression, she thinks that's the loneliest Bea has ever looked.

#warrior nun #avatrice #school au is being turned into a fic👀👀👀👀👀👀

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the-darkness-does-not-bargain · 1 year

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noooo i just thought of the “it was everyone but you” line in your superhero au but first as part of beatrice sharing something about herself to gain ava’s trust,

but then later after beatrice takes ava in, ava throwing it back in beatrice’s face in a “i expected this from everyone but you/i always thought it was everyone but you who’d betray my trust” or something to similar effect way

and now i’m just wailing and gnashing of teeth a tad over the thought

Thanks for returning my punch in the eye with a killer right hook of your own 👊. Now I too am doubled over in agony. Ohhh, that would hurt so good, AND BEA WOULD DESERVE IT IN THAT MOMENT. She let the mission go to her head, she let that classic superhero arrogance cloud her judgement. She thought she knew what was best for Ava, she thought she was working for the Greater GoodTM, until Ava throws it right back in her face. Ohhh, the guilt! The doubt! The fracturing of all her personal convictions!

This could lead to a situation where Bea nearly leaves the OCS in shame, similar to her almost reassignment in season 1, and Mary has to call her out and drag her back (probably because either Ava or the other girls are in danger).

Also, uh oh, this is actually worse in Scenario 1, where Ava's body has been mutilated and pieces of Shannon were forcibly stitched onto her. Because Ava really doesn't have anyone on her side in that situation. She might meet civilian friends like Chanel but that's not the same as having a team of trusted comrades and friends at your back. Mary isn't there in the beginning to try and ground Ava. Hell, she can barely even look at her. Beatrice is the only one who reaches out, who shows compassion for Ava's circumstances, who doesn’t shy away from the strangeness of her body. And it's all part of a ruse. The compassion (and feelings) is genuine, but the pretenses aren't. That's so deliciously awful. You couldn't ask for an easier villain origin story.

Good thing Ava isn't a villain. Despite being Frankenstein's monster, she would never do what the monster did. But the fallout would still be intense and have approximately six billion long-lasting consequences.

#superhero au #warrior nun #I'm imagining a situation where ava feels bad and dysphoric about her body #and bea is trying to convince her otherwise #but ava can't believe her bc bea has lied to her before #applies to both scenarios #the slow and painful process of rebuilding broken trust #the stops and starts #the progression and regression #and the sweet blessed relief when the bridge burnt to rubble is finally restored #that's what it's all about babyyyyy

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fyjeshkaaa · 2 years

Text

drabble: avatrice

Ava longs for freedom. She longs for it while spending agonizing hours staring at the plain walls of the orphanage, watches how a small chip of paint at the corner slowly grow in time, staining the once white wall with lines and cracks. Ava felt it over time, too, the cracks in her body and the lines like wounds in her soul. She tells herself there's no use in hoping to be free of the invisible shackles that keep her glued in her bed.

Yet Ava finds herself doing things she thought were only possible in her dreams. She can stand, she can run, she can live. Ava finally had a lick of freedom she so badly cried and cursed for. It hurt just as much as being imprisoned when freedom slipped through again just as she was about to close her fists around it.

Ava still longs for freedom, now staring at the vast horizon as far as her eyes can see. She can now see beyond white walls, can even take hundreds of steps in a blink. She's finally stripped off the shackles pinning her down, only to be pulled by the weight of the glowing halo on her back.

She tells Beatrice of her dreams, even shares her gnawing nightmares. Beatrice listens intently, answers her questions and stays silent when needed be.

"Do you think when this is all over, I get to live?" Ava thinks out loud.

Beatrice's fingers halt their taps on the tablet, "You're living now, Ava."

"You know I don't mean it that way." Ava sighs, warrior nuns aren't exactly known for their long and happy lives. They are celebrated for their courage and sacrifices. Ava can't even phase through a thick wall.

"I know. I hope you also know that I'll see to it that you do," Beatrice turns to face her, gaze soft and leans a tad bit closer, "get to live after all this."

Ava believes her, she realized how much she relies on Beatrice, how everyone relies on Beatrice. She'd phase through thicker walls if it meant Beatrice have someone to rely on, too, "Okay. Can I try phasing again?"

When Ava thought things can't get anymore fucked, Adriel happened, and of course Ava and her sisters can even barely put up a fight against him.

They eventually dispersed, went into incognito mode until they deemed Ava to be ready. Her days now consist of training, hiding, and bartending.

The days where things are quiet make Ava restless. She want nothing more than to face Adriel and be over with it. Beatrice holds her hand when things like this cloud her mind, the simple touch bares all Ava's insecurities and longings.

"I just want to be free of everything, Bea." Ava pleads, the look Beatrice give makes her heart ache even more. Beatrice looks at her as if she doesn't just understand her, Beatrice looks at her like she badly wants it for herself, too. Wants it for them. Ava feels a rush of shame that for a moment, she forgot Beatrice is also a prisoner of her own, that the woman who constantly dampens Ava's fears is battling her devils, too.

"We'll get our chance to beat him, Ava. You just need to be ready for it, not right now." Ava believes her, reprimands herself for losing trust in Beatrice even for a second.

"Let's go dance!" Ava turns their attention to the patrons dancing at the center. She can feel her friend now letting loose, shoulders slumped and giving easy smiles.

"No, no. You already got me drinking. No dancing."

"Exactly! I already got you drinking. Next is to dance! C'mon, Bea." Ava reaches behind Beatrice, smiling as Beatrice's hair cascade down her shoulders. She lead them through the crowd and moved their bodies to the music vibrating around them.

Ava revels in the smiles and laughter passed in between. She revels in the lovely bubble they've created, bodies close and hands clasped tight. She's flushed with the overwhelming feeling of Beatrice dancing just shy away from her body. Ava takes a step back to commit this moment to memory, to breathe, instead she's hit with a wave of emotions at the sight before her. Beatrice has her eyes closed, hands thrown at every direction, hips swaying to the music.

Ava longs for freedom, yet she doesn't have an idea what freedom is, or how should it feel. She thought freedom is when can she finally move and walk, away from the orphanage, away from things that hurt her. She thought freedom feels like living without a powerful burden on her back.

It didn't occur to her that a taste of freedom might just be having Beatrice by her side, that the universe might not be as cruel as she thinks it is. Ava realized, just as Beatrice opened her eyes and flashed smile, all along, freedom is right in front of me.

sort of a warrior nun speedrun avatrice edition. will write beatrice's part too. fingers crossed i actually get to finish what i started 🤞🏻. s2 delivered and there's so much feels rn.

#avatrice #warrior nun #ava silva #sister beatrice #drabble #mine #writing

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lyts21 · 8 months

Text

Meraki

Beatrice was walking down a busy street, she wanted to visit the museum close to the main square. there was a university near by, so most of the people on the streets were students. when she got close to the square she saw her. Ava. For a moment Beatrice lost her breath. "how is this possible?" Ava was right there, close to an excursion bus with a bunch of other people like nothing happened.

She couldn't remember exactly what had happened, but she knew it was impossible for Ava to be there. Beatrice crossed the square, and the street to get to Ava. In her desperation she didn't even registered if she actually looked to cross the street of if she was walking or running. All she knew is that one moment she was paralyzed trying to process what she was seeing and in the next she was right beside Ava. Bea didn't even touched her right away, she stood frozen until Aa greeted her like it was just another day. She grabbed Ava's hand and tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

"come on, let's take a walk, then we can talk without all this noise" She heard Ava say, and only then she noticed how noisy it was around them with the excursion group and all the cars passing.

They walked hand in hand until they were at a side street, close to a small restaurant with a small group of students chatting and a small garden. So they chose the garden, Bea didn't remember having a blanket, but she must've had in her backpack, because the next moment she extended it over the grass for them to seat. They were really close to each other, touching in any way possible. Her brain hadn't couth up with what was happening yet, and she didn't even understood what she was saying, but she managed to get out something like "what happened? What are you doing here?" She was having trouble staying still and not just launching herself at Ava. But Ava was calm, calmer than Bea ever seen her.

"isn't it cool? I'm going on this trip with that group..." Bea didn't even listened where they were going, but she got the general idea, she was going away, and Bea wouldn't be able to see her again. She didn't know were this certainty came from. Ava was talking like it was this amazing opportunity, and she would be back in no time. Beatrice knew better.

"stay" she wanted to say, or "Take me with you." but nothing came out. Somehow she also knew none of these options were possible. So instead she just hugged Ava. they laid down in the blanket and kept talking like it was any other day. Ava joked and pointed at clouds, and everything was perfect. Bea was holding her extra tight like she was going to disappear at any moment, but Ava made no comment to that.

Everything would be perfect until it was time for Ava to leave.

Beatrice woke up crying. She wasn't sad or happy, but a third bittersweet emotion. She missed the dream. she wanted to keep dreaming of that perfect moment with Ava in her arms. She clawed her own empty chest. Everything was so empty. Oh God!

She wanted to see Ava again.

But all she had was these dreams.

#avatrice #warrior nun #fanfic #fic rec #ava/beatrice #my writing

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daisychainsandbowties · 10 months

Text

thinking about ship’s surgeon camila up to her elbows in gore, beckoning to ava with her suture needle, almost fishook-shaped. teaching ava relentlessly, by rote, "bones of the hand, smallest to largest. go."

washing her hands in a basin of water while ava bandages the stump of someone’s leg after a boarding action, after watching camila fight with her handaxes, the loudest fighter in a sea of screams.

the captain rolling her eyes, driving the points of her swords through a man’s throat to open it wide before whipping around to camila’s side, "i don't think the surgeon should be fighting, do you?"

mary up clearing the deck with her blunderbuss and what beatrice calls her “ridiculous” brace of pistols.

ava helps her drag bodies across the deck, ruined tendons dragging a nerveless leg in their wake. she stuffs a wad of cloth into their mouths to bite down on as camila prepares the laudanum, filling the cabin with that bittersweet smell that always makes ava’s gorge rise.

cam chatting about nothing as she saws through bone, showing ava how to do it cleanly, snapping her fingers when ava can’t drag her eyes away from the man on the table, drooling blood past the gag in his mouth.

she prises it out gently when the crew come to take him down below, camila slapping them away from her stores of painkillers, “i know very well what you’ll do with them. come get me when he wakes.”

ava sitting, hands draped between her knees, staring. thinking of bea up on the helm, weaving magic around her body to snatch men clean off the deck and dash them into the waves. summoning fire and casting clouds of confusion that let captain masters cut through men like wheat.

“it gets easier.” cam’s bloody fingers on ava’s chin, tilting it up.

“does it?”

“sure, once you’re in it. i heard the captain tell beatrice to teach you how to use a sword. that ought to help with things."

“but isn’t she a mage?”

cam winks, “oh sure, but she’s also an artist with a blade. mary calls it divine nepotism.”

“that doesn’t even make sense,” ava says, but her hands twitch. she thinks of the night she escaped from the orphanage, of the horrible voices in her head.

tearing a body limb-from-limb, somehow shielded from the gore by a great mass of things, tunneling out of her skin and wrapping her in cold wet arms.

she shivers, and not from the cold, watching camila bustle around the room. she sighs when she realises her hands are bloody again., but then shrugs, looks over her shoulder at ava. “i saw beatrice looking furious earlier, so i bet the captain insisted she teach you.”

“great,” ava deadpans. “love when people are forced to spend time with me.”

“oh, you’ll get used to her. if she’s nervous around you that probably means-” camila stops, grimaces. “well, i’d better not say.”

“say what?”

“just that beatrice is a complicated person. i wouldn’t take her coldness to heart.”

“wh-”

“now come over here and wash your hands. i’ve got to go tend to the cuts that the captain is no doubt trying to conceal from me.”

#davy jones au #camila as a surgeon… fuck yes #can't stop thinking about this au actually #warrior nun

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birgittesilverbae · 1 year

Text

teaser: a day of clouds and darkness

a the martian au

"Commander, she's gone," Lilith says.

"I can't leave her!" Beatrice ducks her head against the blowing wind, keeps pushing onwards in the direction of the Hab, sweeping her feet wide as she goes. She can't give up on her, she won't give up on her–

"Bea, you need to–" Camila starts.

"She'd look for us!"

Mary's voice breaks through. "Beatrice, if the MAV goes over, we're all fucked."

"Commander," Yasmine chimes in, "you need to get to the ship."

"Negative. I will not leave a man behind."

"Beatrice," Mary snaps, "I'm a fucking fantastic pilot, but if you're not aboard in the next two minutes, I'm not gonna be able to save us."

"She's gone, Bea," Lilith adds, more softly than Beatrice has ever heard her speak. "Ava's gone."

Beatrice clears her throat. "Villaumbrosia, I'm transferring command of the Ares 3 mission over to you, effective immediately."

"Commander–"

"Protect your crew, Commander. Zhang out." Beatrice chins her comms channel closed, steels her spine, and keeps moving forward.

Beatrice is restless as she waits for the storm to die down. She circles the Hab, tidies up the detritus left behind in the wake of the mass exodus, stores away equipment, wipes down surfaces. The wind whistles across the Hab canvas, an eerie sound, mournful and wailing, and Beatrice tries desperately to focus on that, on cataloguing the last batch of soil samples they'd brought in earlier, on tallying up the food stores, on anything but what the next task will be once the planet grows silent.

She fails. Image after image of Ava's body flashes through her mind as she flips through the food packets. Face shield shattered, cheeks frosted over. Gash torn across the front of her suit, blood spilling out just as vibrant as the regolith, crystallising into ice pellets in an instant. At the base of the MAV platform, so near to safety, scorched by the engine burn of the MAV's ascent.

The clunk doesn't register immediately. She jots down her tally of egg packets, then goes still, thoughts screeching to a halt, as the airlock's atmospheric regulator cycles into action.

A clunk. The airlock cycling.

A clunk.

The airlock cycling.

Beatrice's heart climbs into her throat. She sprints across the Hab, presses herself against the door, shields her eyes with her hand as she peers through the porthole.

Nothing. No one. No Ava. Just the hum of the airlock equalising. A crossed wire, maybe. Some interference from the storm. Beatrice slumps forwards against the airlock, her breath shaky in her throat, and swallows down a sob.

She rests there until her breathing steadies, until she thinks maybe she can stand on her own. She pushes herself back fully upright, scans the Hab, trying to form a plan of attack, to lay out next steps.

The airlock cycles open behind her.

She digs her fingernails into her palms and takes a deep breath. A crossed wire, maybe. Some interference from the storm.

But then there's a rustle of fabric. The thud of hard plastic against metal. A raspy inhalation. A groan.

Beatrice turns degree by slow, agonising degree.

A suited figure lies slumped halfway through the inner airlock. An arm reaches up, fumbles at seals, pries their helmet free.

Ava tips her head back, groaning at the motion, and gives Beatrice a crooked upside-down grin.

"Hey, Bea. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

#warrior nun #mywn #myfic #fic: tmau #ava x beatrice #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva

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kendrene · 1 year

Note

for ur road-trip prompts! avatrice + downtime

I'm not sure this is what you had in mind, but I hope you like it.

***

“Do you relax, like, ever?”

At first, Ava thinks that Beatrice hasn’t heard. She pushes the book First Enchanter Jillian has given her to read aside - some stuffy old treatise about the dangers of fire magic, no doubt written by an even stuffier mage, long dead - and focuses her entire attention on the Templar by the door.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you.” There’s a slight change in her posture. Not something Ava would call loosening. She’s never seen Beatrice’s spine be anything less than ramrod-straight. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Oh, come on Bea.” The book thuds shut, and a small cloud of dust lifts from the yellowed pages. Ava blinks back tears. “Surely there are things you do in your free time?”

“It is my duty to ensure nothing happens to you, Ava.” Or that Ava doesn’t happen to somebody, but Beatrice is too polite to say. “Besides, I do not mind it.”

Ava lowers her eyes, pretending to examine the grain of the table she’s sat at. She’s glad that it’s late evening, and the square of sky outside the stained-glass window is pitch dark. Glad that the reading alcove she chose - her favorite in the whole library - isn’t particularly well lit.

The blush heating her face takes about a century to fade.

“I don’t mind that it’s you watching over me.” Ava breathes out, not meaning to, so close to the surface of the table she can picture the words like another layer of varnish upon the worn wood. There’s another shift, a creak of leather. An inhale so subtle Ava thinks she must have imagined it. She doesn’t look up.

“Anyway,” Beatrice resumes after some time, voice uncharacteristically unsteady, “of course I do things in my free time.” She falters a little over the word free, as though her tongue doesn’t quite know what to do with it. “I train.”

“Seriously.” Ava snorts. “That doesn’t count as a relaxing activity.” Her eyes flick up, just in time to catch Beatrice’s frown. It deepens as she watches, and Ava has to fight the urge to go to her. To reach out, and stroke a thumb between Beatrice’s knitted eyebrows gently, smooth whatever’s bothersome away. She cannot. Ava has no name for the things that flicker in her chest when Beatrice is near, but knows the desires that they elicit are forbidden. “You don’t have hobbies? Wait, are Templars actually allowed to have hobbies?”

“Ava.” Somewhere at the far end of the library a door opens and they both go quiet. Templars and mages are allowed to talk, obviously, but what they’re doing skirts closer to fraternization. Itcould land them in a lot of trouble.

They wait in complete silence until it’s clear nobody is coming. Ava slumps in her seat.

“Fine.” She plucks at the left sleeve of her robe, tugging at a thread that’s coming loose. “Let me rephrase, because clearly we’re not getting anywhere. What do you do if you’re not on duty or training?”

“I meditate.”

“Beatrice.” Ava says with the tone of someone about to break horrible news. “I’m sorry to tell you, but I don’t think you know how to unwind.”

“Meditation is the getaway to a steady heart and a calm mind.”

“So, basically if you’re not standing guard or training, you’re falling asleep.”

“That’s not at all what-!” Beatrice sputters, indignant, and crosses her arms. “Alright. What about you, then? What do you do if you’re not-”

“-reading awfully boring books?” Stretching, Ava stands and walks over to the window. Her reflection stares right back, a blackened mirror-image distorted by the imperfections in the glass. “The gardens. I love walking barefoot on the grass right after it rains. And there’s fish in the pond, did you know? Sometimes the cooks let me have a heel of old bread to feed them.”

It sounded grander in her mind than it does as she speaks of it to Beatrice, but Ava goes on undeterred. Maybe, to someone who could leave the Circle anytime the gardens don’t seem much. They’re everything to her. “Have you ever really walked through them? I don’t mean on your way to the barracks and back. Have you ever really paid attention to how much the trees shake when a storm wind comes in from the lake? Or to what kind of birds nest in the old oak depending on the season?”

“I can’t say that I have.” Beatrice answers slowly, like she’s trying to see the gardens as Ava does. “All of it sounds beautiful, though.”

“It is!” Ava turns around, seized by a wild thought. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Curfew-”

“The bell rang not too long ago. We have about an hour until compline.”

“Still-”

“We’ll be careful.” Beatrice’s expression is doubtful, but the moment Ava offers her hand she takes it without question. “I promise.”

“What do you think?”

Ava had decided the moment they got out to leave the well tended gravel paths behind and plunge straight into the tangle of trees at the heart of the gardens. It was the only way, she’d reasoned, to show Beatrice what she meant.

“It’s pretty, don’t you think?”

This clearing at the feet of the old oak is her favorite spot in the gardens. Even better than the pond, except perhaps early in the spring, when the mallards’ eggs hatch and ducklings bob back and forth across the tranquil waters.

Beatrice steps under the shadow of the tree, free hand outstretched, reaching to press her palm against the weathered trunk. “I run past this place sometimes, during drills. I never stopped to take it in before, though.” She pulls back, staring down at her fingers as if the tree has left its mark there. “You were right, Ava. Thank you.”

Ava’s fingers, still curled loosely around Bea’s, twitch. She’s surprised Beatrice hasn’t tried to reclaim her hand yet, but is sure she would in a heartbeat should Ava allow her grip to grow too tight. She’s taken care to keep her hold as-barely-there, to trap Beatrice’s fingers the same as she would a fragile bird. Has held her breath whenever their hands bumped awkwardly together on their walk to this place, afraid a sudden jolt, some nervous movement may cause Bea to fly away from her.

“Thank you, Ava.” Beatrice says again, and flips their hands over, thumb stroking at the tender dip of Ava’s inner wrist, her fingers squeezing, Ava finds she cannot breathe.

‘There’s more.” Ava can hear her own pulse in her ears, can feel it reverberate like the aftermath of a spell down her spine and the rest of her. Down her arms, to where Bea’s thumb is idly rubbing, the one place of her body that’s become the axis of her world for the time being. She’s sure that Beatrice can sense it too as it thunders in her grasp and wonders what she may be thinking. Clouds roll in, wrapping around the moon. Darkness shrouds the two of them entire, making it impossible to tell.

“More?”

Beatrice is close enough her next exhale is unadulterated warmth on Ava’s cheek.

She clears her throat.

“Yeah. Uhm. Let’s sit.”

They carefully lower themselves in the hollow dug up by the oak’s gnarled roots. Here the ground is soft and a bit spongy, a carpet of dead leaves and sticks and all manner of debris blown in by the breeze.

“Look.’ Ava points, and Bea’s gaze tilts up, as though Ava’s finger is tied to an invisible string that goes straight to her heart. “I shouldn’t tell you this, since you’re a Templar and all, but sometimes I can’t sleep and I sneak out after curfew to look at the stars.”

Beatrice bumps their shoulders together.

“I have a feeling asking you not do that would equal wasted breath.” She lets go of Ava’s hand only to place hers higher up, around Ava's forearm. It’s cold enough that Ava is wearing another layer under her robes, and still it feels like Beatrice is touching her directly. Ava burns hotter than a thousand suns. “Will you try to be careful about it? If Shannon or Mary caught you, it wouldn’t not be too big a deal. But others will not be as kind.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” The clouds part, and stray moonlight spears down from above to show that Beatrice doesn’t quite believe her.

“I really do promise to be careful, Beatrice.” Ava repeats. It isn’t as convincing as she’d like and they both know it is a lie.

“Maybe we could make a deal.” Beatrice pauses, jaw working around whatever it is that she’s gonna suggest next. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth, and her dark eyes are pensive the same way they get when Knight-Commander Suzanne presents her with some complicated question about faith.

Not that Ava has made a whole study of the countless expressions that flit across Beatrice’s face at any hour of the day, filing all of them inside her mind for reference. So that she knows what Beatrice thinks or feels even though to anyone else it seems that she gives nothing away.

“A deal?” Ava squeezes her eyes shut, hating how badly her voice shakes.

“I could accompany you on these walks.” She opens her eyes. Beatrice looks deadly serious. "Before curfew.”

Ava swallows.

“Of course.”

“I would need to ask for permission.”

“Uh. Uh,”

“But I don’t see why the Knight-Commander would say no. Exercise is important.”

“Totally, yeah.” Ava blinks, and the full import of what Beatrice is saying finally sinks in. “Wait, you’re really willing to do that for me?”

For the first time that night, Beatrice’s lips curve into a smile. Ava can count the instances this has happened on the fingers of one hand with room to spare. She clutches the fleeting sight to her chest, stores it in the same place in which she keeps the rest. Beatrice smiling broadly after Shannon had complimented her sword form. Beatrice laughing at one of Mary’s quips, a hand raised to cover the full extent of it.

Beatrice smiling at her - for her - the day Ava had managed to light a candle through her magic without it melting away.

“I will ask tomorrow.” A loon calls from across the lake, and Beatrice’s eyes track skyward, measuring time. “I can accompany you on your walks and you can teach me how to… unwind.” On the verge of a bigger smile, her mouth quivers. Beatrice swallows it down, and Ava vows to work it out of her somehow.

Ava nods.

“That sounds fair.” She breathes in, filling her lungs to bursting with air and with courage, and adds. "A little earlier, I could show you the ducklings."

"You could." Beatrice's smile, much like the moon overhead, is in its waning phase. It lingers, however, a sliver of a reflection in her eyes. "I'd like that."

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava x beatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #dragon age au #dren writes

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piratekane · 1 year

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28!

twenty-eight: how long has it been since you've slept?

trigger warning: character death

Beatrice is tired.

She carries a weariness that settles in her body, a bone-deep ache that wakes her most mornings. There are days where it hurts to open her eyes, stings when she breaths. Her hands, once her greatest weapon, seem to be her greatest weakness now. She drops things, can’t quite grasp them between her fingers. Her body tightens as she bends to pick them up, just to lose them again.

She is getting old. And she is tired.

She spends her days in the east wing and her nights in the west. She likes to track the path of the sun, seeing each day pass in a slow progression as it climbs higher and higher in the sky until finally, like her, it sinks back down into the horizon to fight for another day. She hurts more on the sun-less days when the clouds push at the windows, threatening to break them. But then the sun comes up again, she walks from the east to the west, and she says a prayer for another day.

At night, she dreams. Always the same one, always the same place. She’s back in that small apartment, stretched out on a lumpy mattress with her toes nearly hanging off the end. A blanket is pulled over her head and the air is hot and there’s hair sticking to her cheeks, but she is smiling and Ava-

Ava is always there. Ava is always smiling back at her.

Beatrice is old. And she is yearning.

“Bea,” a voice whispers.

Ava is here. Ava is smiling at her.

A hand curls around hers, strong fingers dancing over the peaks and valleys. Beatrice follows it for a moment, lost in the feeling, before she remembers Ava is the one the fingers lead to. She inhales, lungs aching at the pressure.

“Ava.”

Ava’s smile widens. “I always liked the way you said my name. Have I ever told you that?”

No, but she knew.

Ava walks her fingers over the thin skin of Beatrice’s wrist. “You grew up,” she says casually. “But I always thought older women were hot, you know?” She grins, all teeth. “Not that you were ever not hot. With and without the whole nun get-up. You were a… wait, I remember hearing this once…” Her forehead wrinkles as she thinks. “A smoke show?”

Beatrice laughs. “I don’t know.”

Ava shrugs, uncaring, but her voice quiets. “It’s been a while.”

“I grew up.”

Then Ava’s smile is just as quiet. “I tried, you know. I- I fought, every day. To come back to you. You know that, right?”

Beatrice drops her weathered hand over Ava’s. “I know you did.” She shifts in her seat, the soft back of the armchair she’s picked today easing the ache. “I know you would have if you could have.”

“I guess it’s the next for us, yeah?” Ava let’s go of her hand, settles for leaving her fingers curled in the soft sweater Beatrice chose today. “I just kind of hoped it was this one.”

There’s a million things she wants to say. It was this one for her. And it’ll be the next for both of them. But her thoughts get tangled, the words knot in her mouth, and a yawn escapes, unbidden.

Beatrice is old. And she is tired.

Ava’s eyes watch her curiously. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?” She strokes a hand down over the curve of Beatrice’s cheek. “You’re never good at taking care of yourself.”

Beatrice tries to remember, but she can’t. Maybe the last time she rested was years ago, tucked into the Swiss Alps and Ava’s side. Maybe it’s been that long, the peace in those moments never following her through the days and months and years since Ava. But Ava looks at her as if she knows.

“Come on.” Ava’s eyes, honeyed in sunlight, sparkle. “For old times sake?”

Ava doesn’t have to ask; Beatrice will say yes to anything, if it means Ava will stay close. It takes effort, bones creaking, but she manages to shuffle to the side, create a bit of space for Ava to slide in next to her, fitting their bodies together as if they were never apart.

She sighs, the tiredness ebbing away as a contentedness takes its place.

“Sleep, Bea.” A hand strokes into her hair, scratches lightly at her scalp. “And in the morning, we’ll be in the next.”

Beatrice, alone in her chair, closes her eyes for the last time.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #WARNING: THIS IS NOT THE HAPPIEST OF PLACES #i'm sorry but i am miserable and i am yearning #covid is kicking my ass #which is already a tag i had #oh joy #and my other fic won't cooperate with me so here's all that's left of me #i'm sorry i am i need fluids

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