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vcnatorr · 2 years

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BEE’S BDRPWRIMO 2021 → Day 6: Family Ties One-Shot

Christmas, 1991

Clayton pulled up outside of Queen’s College and turned off the engine of his car, getting out so that he could light a cigarette whilst leaning against the side, waiting. Why on earth Tristan couldn’t have gotten in his own car, which Clayton had on good authority that he had gotten just months earlier as a late birthday gift, and driven the 30 minutes or so out of the city centre and to the Clayton family estate himself, he had no idea. All he knew was that he’d had to divert his trip from Cambridge to pick him up on his way home, and he wasn’t best pleased about it.

He didn’t so much mind picking up his cousin -- it was the going home that he wasn’t thrilled about. Christmas meant the immediate family coming back to the estate in Islip, because it was the family seat and big enough to house the lot. It also meant stuffy dinners and dreary conversation and nothing particularly festive at all.

At least having his cousin around would make things less insufferable. The black iron gate to the College creaked open and his cousin ducked out, carrying a suitcase in each hand. “Well, well. They’re really letting this place go to the dogs.” Tristan grinned, setting the bags down by the back of the car. “Loitering’s a punishable offence, you know,” He added, taking the cigarette from Clayton’s mouth before pulling him in for a hug.

“Because a fine from Oxford City Council would surely bankrupt me,” Clayton chuckled, moving around to the back of the car so he could pop open the boot. “You can pack them yourself, I’m not your butler. What’ve you got two for, anyway? Bringing your ball gowns home?”

“That one’s mine.”

A familiar voice grabbed Clayton’s attention immediately. He hadn’t even noticed Winnifred leaving the College, not until she was stood right by the back of the car, but then again, he supposed he hadn't really been looking for her. The last time Clayton had seen her, she had been getting into the back of the car her father had sent to fetch her home from Cambridge; her mother had been unwell, so transferring out to Oxford made a bit more sense. Clayton had assumed he'd see her around at this function or that, but he was only just realising now that he hadn't seen her at all.

"Freddy," He greeted her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She looked rather good, in a dress that the family would find appropriate, red hair falling down her shoulders in waves. Still, it didn't explain what she was doing here. "This is a surprise."

Tristan reached for both of the suitcases, putting them in the boot alongside Clayton's. "Your mother didn't tell you?" He asked, looking at his cousin. Clayton turned his mouth down in a general expression of 'nope, don't think so'. "Winnie and I are courting," He explained, waggling his eyebrows at the word. "For long enough now that she gets to come to the family functions."

"Lucky me," Freddy - Winnie? - smiled, her hands folded in front of herself. She looked a touch sheepish, and Clayton felt a little like Tristan had come up behind him and hit him over the back of the head, but that was alright. He blinked the metaphorical stars from his eyes, and smiled.

"Lucky you," He agreed. "Come on, get in the car. I hate going up the drive in the dark, the sheep are determined to put a dent in my front bumper."

Tristan laughed, slamming the boot shut. "Good heavens," He gasped. "Not the Bentley!"

Clayton rolled his eyes, opening the back door of the car so that Winnifred could duck inside, waiting until she was comfortable to close it again. He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing Tristan hadn't stole that stupid cigarette, and then got back in the car, forgetting to check his mirrors as he pulled away from the curb.

_________________

"I think Major's doing his best. Maggie left him in a hard spot -- I said to him, last dinner we had, must've been-- March? Perhaps? But I said to him, it's none of your doing, John. You're just picking up the pieces. Thatcher left him in a right mess, and..."

Clayton rubbed at his eyes, doing his best to blot out his Great Uncle Bertie's droning. He really couldn't have cared less about politics, least of all on Christmas Eve, and to be quite honest, he thought old Bert rabbiting on about it over dinner was rather rude.

Not that conversation was great anywhere. His father, Baron William Clayton Sr., sat at the head of the table, with Baroness Octavia, his wife, on his left and Uncle Oswald, his brother and Tristan's father, on his right. They were talking about the estate, and the plan to release fifty or so Sika hinds onto the back paddock, a project that could quite honestly bore Clayton to tears. Tristan, who had been sat next to Clayton's mother, was dutifully answering every question posed to him by their Grandmother Edith, whom he was sitting across from. At the other end of the table, Great Uncle Bertie was boring Grannie Rose and Aunt Arabella, Octavia's mother and sister respectively, to tears. To his right, Aunt Marigold, Tristan's mother, seemed like she had drifted off to sleep rather than talk about the merits of the PM.

And opposite him, pushing chocolate mousse around her plate, was Winnifred. She would look up every so often, catch him looking, and her widen her eyes, as if to say God, how awful this whole thing is, eh? Clayton would hide a smile, lift his glass, and take a sip from the dessert wine his mother had picked out, before pretending to join into another conversation.

"Everyone, everyone," Tristan stood abruptly, a smile lighting his face. "I've an announcement to make."

Clayton looked again to Freddy, though she was looking up at her boyfriend with an expression he couldn't accurately measure.

"As you well know, Winnie and I have been seeing each other for about a year now," Clayton had not well known that. He supposed it didn't matter. Tristan continued, "And at a small gathering for her birthday last week, and with the permission of her parents, who unfortunately couldn't be with us this evening, I decided to make it official."

And with that, Tristan held out a hand for Freddy, pulling her to her feet. "We're engaged!" He announced, much to the delight of the table, pulling his fiancee in under his arm.

A few small rounds of applause, a few squeals of delight. Clayton did his best to smile when Freddy looked at him, but he knew it probably didn't look quite right.

"Congratulations, you two," Clayton Sr., incapable of speaking at a normal volume, boomed from the end of the table. "Come on now, if we're all finished, we can retire to the drawing room and you can tell us all about it."

The party stood, and Clayton, suddenly desparate for a smoke and to loosen his tie, made a beeline for his mother.

"I'm just going to duck out for a minute, Mama," He told her, hanging back from the rest of the family as they shuffled out of the room.

"You're not going to smoke, are you?" Octavia arched an eyebrow. "I've told you, it's a filthy habit, and I don't want you--"

"I'm not, I'm not, I just need a little air. I'll be back in in a minute, you won't even miss me." Clayton promised.

"Alright," Octavia murmured, obviously suspicious. "Take your jacket. It's cold outside."

"Yes, Mama," He agreed, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek before he headed out to the hallway.

It was freezing outside, but there were ulterior motives to him taking a jaket: the packet of Marlboros in the inside pocket. He snuck around the side of the house, far enough that they wouldn't be able to see him from the parlour, and took a deep long drag.

The thing was, he didn't even know why he was upset. What he and Winnifred had had been just shy of nothing at all. It had been fun, that had been certain, but it wasn't like Clayton had been in love with her.

Come to think of it, he didn't even know that he was upset. He just knew he wasn't thrilled for them. Specifically, for Freddy.

Freddy, who was now stood by his side, fishing a box of cigarettes from her own coat pocket and producing one unceremoniously. "Got a light?"

Holding the cigarette between his lips, Clayton reached into his inside pocket for the little packet of matches, handing them over to her. He didn't watch her as she went about her business, rather looking at his shoes, telling her to keep the matches when she reached out to hand them back.

"You've got a face like a slapped arse," She informed him after a moment, and it was enough to draw something like a laugh from him. Still no comment, though. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say. "Penny for your thoughts?"

He paused, tapping the end of his cigarette with his thumb. "Tristan?" He asked after a moment, looking over at her. "Really? Come on, Freddy. We both know you could do so much better."

"Like you?" She asked.

This time, Clayton really did laugh. "Definitely not. That'd be another step backwards."

"Then why not Tristan? He's nice. He's articulate, and he's well read. And need I mention he's the heir to a viscountcy? That's better than you." Freddy pointed out, tapping ash on the gravel beneath their feet.

"Is that what's important to you?" Clayton asked. "Titles?"

"Don't try to pretend you're above it. You're your father's son."

Clayton huffed at that. It had never particularly bothered him that Tristan's title would one day be a step up from his, though it had bothered his father endlessly that his little brother had ended up a rung up the ladder thanks to a favourable marriage.

"And anyway, you can't complain," Winnifred continued, shaking her head. "I would've married you, if you'd asked."

Clayton looked over at her. She obviously meant it, judging by the way she was studying her shoes.

"We were 18," Clayton reminded her. "We were children. We're still children. And besides, it was never like that--"

"I loved you." Freddy did look at him then, turning the full force of her emerald eyes on him. "You didn't love me though, did you?"

Clayton didn't know that he was capable of loving anyone but himself. He didn't think it mattered - he was 21. Only just a man. He had plenty of time to fall in love, if he wanted to. "Why did you follow me out here?"

"To ask you to be happy for us." Freddy said. "Because I really do love him, and I'm quite sure he loves me. You're only twisting your face because you can't bear to see me with anyone else, not because you actually want me."

Well, she had him there. He couldn't argue. "I'm not the marrying type, Fred."

"No." She agreed, her voice soft. Resigned. "No, you're not." She dropped her cigarette, crushing it underfoot. "So don't be cross just because Tristan is."

Clayton's mouth twitched down into a frown, his eyes on the darkened lawns ahead of them as Winnifred walked back towards the house. She stopped, just a few feet away, the crunching of the gravel falling silent for a moment. "And don't call me that anymore. It's too boyish."

Clayton looked over at her, nodding once. She disappeared into the house, and after a moment's consideration, he stubbed his cigarette out on the wall, flicking the butt towards the old oak that stood to one side of the house. He could be happy for them, probably. He'd certainly do his best to act like it. With the realisation that he had left both the packet of mints and the bottle of aftershave in his other coat, he dragged his feet back into the house, thinking the stern talking-to from his mother would at least be a good cover for his sulking, for a while.

#bdrpwrimobee #bdrpwrimo2021 #i hate rich people #also is it obvious i have never smoked a cigarette #i had to make an honest to god seating chart for this #tho it did make me want to assign fcs for everyone

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oh-phineas · 2 years

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The Flynn-Fletcher House

Day 28 – Interior Decorating Collaboration: Get together with your employees/coworkers and create a floorplan for your character’s house or business!

Under the cut for length! In collaboration with @ferbmanofactionfletcher and @i-want-candy !!

1. Front Yard/House Exterior

The front yard doesn’t have any fancy landscaping, but the family does work together to keep the lawn looking nice. There’s usually some kind of lawn sign to advertise Candace’s shows (in the spring there was one for Phineas’s graduation as well). The garage door is open a lot of the time, especially when Phineas and Ferb are working on the car, so people can stop by and say hi. At Christmas, there are lights on the house and candles in the windows. The house has a special doorbell. It both rings and is connected to little light plugins around the house that flash when someone rings it so if Ferb is home, he knows he should either go answer it or when to go hide.

2. Entryway/Living Room

The front door opens into the living room, which has a couch, a loveseat, a TV, and a fireplace. There is one bookshelf in here and a record player. The stairs to the right of the front door lead upstairs to the bedrooms and hall bathroom. The wall where the stairs are holds pictures! It used to just hold the Fletcher side of the family, but of course now it’s got pictures of Phineas, Candace, and Linda! And a Flynn-Fletcher fam photo. Agent P included! Past the couch, there is a small hallway that leads to the powder room and office. This is where Phineas does a lot of his homework, hanging out on the couch with the TV on in the background. Agent P’s bed is also in the living room, although sometimes she sleeps in the boys’ room or Candace’s room (even though she’s not really supposed to).

3. Dining Room

This isn’t so much a separate room as a part of the kitchen partitioned off by the breakfast bar. There is a big table with six seats, and Lawrence and Linda sit on either end with the kids in the middle. There’s one seat that’s always empty except when there’s a guest over (sometimes it’s Vanessa, lately it’s been Andrea sometimes) and there are two extra folding chairs in the hall closet, but those don’t get used all that often.

4. Kitchen

The kitchen is big and airy, one of the biggest rooms in the house. The stovetop is on an island in the middle of the room, so it’s common for people to hang out around the island and chat while someone cooks. There’s also a breakfast bar with barstools where you can kind of see the TV from if you try hard enough. Candace does her homework here sometimes because she likes to be in the middle of things but also have her own space. On the occasional times when they have parties here, Phineas likes to play “bartender” at this space.

The refrigerator is usually pretty stocked and there are Post-It notes on it where people leave reminders/shopping list requests. The fridge also has some souvenir magnets from vacations and other random places. A lot of times there are flowers out on the island from Garden Grove.

5. Garage

The garage is mostly used by Phineas and Ferb when they’re working on projects. Because of all of their gadgets all over the place, there isn’t really room to park a car here (plus, currently, that space is being occupied by the car they’re fixing up). However, sometimes, if someone does need to park the car in here, the boys will have to move all of their stuff out of the way, which is a long process.

6. Patio/Backyard

The backyard doesn’t have a lot of decor, but it does have a table where the family eats outside in the summer sometimes as well as a hammock. There’s enough room for Agent P to run around, and the whole thing is fenced in. Sometimes, tennis balls end up in the neighbors’ yards and Phineas has done some elaborate maneuvers to get them back without anyone noticing. There’s a big oak tree in the middle of the yard.

7. Downstairs Hall Bathroom

A small powder room with a sink and a toilet. Nothing too fancy. Usually used by guests.

8. Office

This is mostly used by Lawrence, since he teaches at Pride U and brings his work home sometimes. There’s a desk that Linda and Lawrence both use, and sometimes if someone needs to make a private call they can use the office. On the desk, Lawrence has one of those digital picture frames that cycles through the ones he’s uploaded from his phone. Mostly of the kids and Linda! There’s a table with little figurines for reconstructions of famous battles that he changes up every so often, sometimes to have visuals for his research but just as often just for his own enjoyment.

The walls are lined with more bookshelves and some maps/diagrams of historical battles as well as posters and framed memorabilia from Linda’s music career. Her famous “I’m Lindana and I Wanna Have Fun” jacket is framed in a shadowbox that was on loan to the Hard Rock Cafe in Chicago for a while, but she got it back before moving to the UK. There’s a sort of strange dissonance between the Lindana merch and the historical battle decor, but it works somehow.

9. Upstairs Hall Bathroom

“It’s right up the stairs!” --something you might hear if you’re at a function at the Flynn-Fletcher house and the downstairs bathroom is in use. This is the bathroom that Phineas, Ferb, and Candace all share. There are two sinks, a toilet, and a shower. Since Phineas and Candace are both at Pride U now, though, it’s mostly Ferb’s. Phineas doesn’t have a lot of stuff in here, just some three-in-one shampoo/conditioner/body wash, a half-used bottle of hair product, an extra toothbrush, and some old cologne that he hates the smell of but keeps forgetting to throw out. He leaves the toothbrush out on the counter, but everything else is in a drawer.

Candace definitely comindeers this bathroom wherever she’s home and definitely has her shit all over the counter (she has a seperate set at school, ofc.) She also will take a bath at least once a week when she comes home for the weekend--bubbles and candles, the whole nine yards and will be in there for an hour minimum, get lost boys.

Ferb just has the bathroom basics! but ever since the Flynn’s moved in he started acting like the bathroom was more like a dorm bathroom. So he carries everything to and from his room whenever he needs it. This is because he 1. doesn’t want to take up any room Candace or Phineas might need and 2. wouldn’t want to need something in there if they’re in there and then disturb them. so he’d rather take his toothbrush downstairs than go knocking on the door. He still keeps his bathroom stuff in his room, despite both of the Flynn kids being at PrideU, in case someone came home for the weeknight and he didn’t know.

10. Phineas and Ferb’s Room

Phineas and Ferb each have a twin bed, facing away from the windows (and toward the wall shared with Candace where their desks are).

Phineas’s bed is on the far wall by the window that faces the house next door. He has a very basic dark blue comforter with a plaid throw blanket. Sometimes if he doesn’t feel like making his bed or if he just feels like it, he’ll unroll his sleeping bag and just sleep in that on top of his comforter (#work smarter not harder). He has a couple of posters by his bed and over his desk: a poster for the film The Social Network, a poster with a Steve Jobs quote, a bulletin board with random stuff and memorabilia tacked to it, and a shelf with some Lego things he’s built displayed. His desk used to have his computer on it (a 3-screen setup with a PC, a second monitor, and his gaming laptop) but now all of that has been moved to Pride U (he sometimes brings his laptop back and forth, though). Now, his desk just has random books, papers, and knickknacks scattered across it.

Ferb’s side of the room: Ferb’s bed is on the other side, closer to the closet. He doesn’t have a lot of stuff because he isn’t really a materialistic person, unless its books. He does have a lot downloaded onto his computer but he has a pretty hardy collection of books that he has procured over the years of being a lonely child and going to Chapter Three every afternoon for something new. Also it was an easy gift for his family members on his birthday or Christmas, just getting him any old book. They all got organized into boxes under his bed after being told the Flynn’s were coming to live with them and that he and Phineas were going to share a room. All the things on his side, besides his computer set up, he was given. The lamp, the globe, the crest of his cousins’ favorite football team hung up on the wall. Even the purple sheets/pillow cases and blanket weren’t his personal pick. But he’s fine with that, would rather it be that way. Before Phineas moved in he didn’t have all the much stuff so it was very easy to clear up half the room. (Though now that he’s moved out he looks over at Phineas’ side forlornly.)

11. Candace’s Room

Candace’s room overlooks the backyard, so there is plenty of light, especially in the afternoon. It is pretty sparse, because Candace never really fully moved in. There is still a box or two in her closet and under her bed full of stuff from America. She had hung up a few pictures/string lights to make it feel more homey, but it doesn’t really have much of a Candace-feel. Though, I do HC that Lawrence took her out shopping to buy new bedsheets as kind of a father-daughter bonding experience, so she has nice grown-up white sheets with little designs stitched into them and lots of fuzzy blankets and pillows.

She has a desktop computer that Ferb and Lawrence built for her for Christmas 2020 and so she keeps that on her desk, and uses it for sound editing and regular editing/recording of her show. The lighting is really nice there by the window. She uses her regular laptop for most stuff like watching Netflix and Twitter/Tumblr, etc. Also, her guitar and ukulele are probably near the bookshelf underneath the windows on their stands.

12. Linda and Lawrence’s Room

Linda and Lawrence share the master bedroom upstairs. The windows in that room face the backyard, but they are smaller and over the bed, so it’s not easy to see into the backyard (which is probably for the best, given the shenanigans that go down there).

The majority of their career memorabilia is downstairs in the office, but they have a bookshelf with a lot of Lawrence’s history books and some things they both read for fun as well. There’s also a pretty extensive collection of Love Händel CDs, vinyls, and merchandise, as that is the band that brought Linda and Lawrence together. They also have a bathroom with a double sink and a bathtub/shower.

#i love the flynn fletchers as i said one day im gonna write my linda/lawrence fanfic #about #candace #ferb #bdrpwrimo #bdrpwrimoemma #bdrpwrimo2021 #flynn fletcher squad #flynn fletchers things

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mamabear-elinor · 2 years

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BDRPwrimo Day Six – Family Ties

The Forging of Bitter Bonds

Write a one-shot revolving around your character’s family, include 3 family members minimum. (This can include whatever your character’s definition of family is.)

VIII. Off to the Races Late June, 1994

“Did you hear that the Knightley boy will be bringing a girl to the Summer Promenade?” Elinor’s mother mentioned casually at dinner one night in late June.

The dining room suddenly felt much smaller than it was, the walls closing in. No one said anything for a few moments and the air filled with the sound of cutlery scraping plates.

“Oh, no I didn’t, Mama. Who is she? What family is she from? Is she that de Chateaupers girl?”

“She isn’t from the Order,” Una sniffed.

Elinor’s head jerked up, startled, and she could see the glint of displeasure in her mother’s eye. Elinor felt like a deer who had just heard the braying of a hound. Her muscles tensed and she felt like if she moved a single one, her mother would hunt her down.

“Not an Order girl?” came her father’s gruff voice. Elinor didn’t want to turn her head to look at him, knowing she would only find disapproval hanging from his brow. She already heard it in his voice. And while much of that was probably directed at the Knightley boy, she knew it would only be a matter of time before it swung back around to her. It always did.

“No. Apparently he met her at Oxford. They have been seeing each other for over a year now, if my sources are correct.” They usually were. Una just liked to pretend to be aloof about these things.

Collum shook his head and stabbed at his steak, blood oozing from the meat. “A shame.” As he chewed, his gaze swung towards Elinor, who was eating dainty, slow bites. She did not look at her father, deliberately keeping her eyes focused on her plate. “Soon, all the eligible men will be snapped up.”

Elinor kept eating.

“Elinor,” her father demanded.

Reluctantly, she raised her gaze and turned them towards her father. Her focus fell on the juices dribbling from the corner of his mouth into his grey beard, staining it dark. She would rather look there than the rest of his face.

“Do you understand the gravity of what your mother is saying?”

Elinor’s cheeks heated with embarrassment and she wanted to be angry. To yell at them and say: no, I don’t. Why does it matter?

But Elinor knew why it mattered. Because her grandfather had brought shame to this family. Because her father, the eldest son, only had daughters. Useless, beautiful daughters whose only purpose was to marry. If Elinor didn’t do well for herself, she would doom her sister too, then her father’s family line would cease to exist.

Shannon sat across the table from Elinor, watching her too with a curl of her lip. Elinor wanted to slap her. Shannon had always been good with words and insults, but when they had been younger, Elinor used to pinch her until she cried, used to smack her and push her and steal her toys. Now that they were older, she couldn’t do those things, so she sharpened her wit instead.

That wit was useless against her father and the heavy burden of expectation.

“That I will be told to marry the first man you see fit to marry me.” All Elinor had was a weapon of truth. If she said it first, her father could not use it to hurt her.

“Yes,” Una cut in, unwavering. “We will.”

-> -> ->

The first day of the tourney was always the most exciting in Elinor’s opinion. Everyone was seeing each other for the first time in months, there were reunions and rivalries. It was a whirlwind of excitement. Though, it was not Elinor’s favorite day. That was always the second: the women’s race. There was nothing much to winning, just bragging rights, but Elinor loved it anyway. It felt like the only time she was able to show off her own skill. And this year, it was especially important that she do well. Winning the race might catch the eye of an eligible bachelor.

Elinor twirled through the crowds. Several tents had been erected on Lindisfarne, the Harrington family hosting this year. Which was excellent, considering their ability with horses. Elinor had brought Dawn along, of course, but it meant the track they’d be using would be tough, and many of the daintier horses of the other women would not know what to do with the terrain.

“Marigold!” Elinor called when she finally spotted her friend.

“Ellie!” Marigold beamed back and tackled Elinor into a hug, squeezing her tight. Marigold had been in the middle of a conversation with a few others, but Elinor hadn’t even taken them in. She knew Marigold wouldn’t care if she interrupted, and it was clear that she hadn’t. Elinor chuckled as she squeezed her friend back just as tight. It had only been a month since school had gotten out, but they hadn’t seen each other since and after spending nearly every day together in their little apartment, it was weird not to have her right next to her every moment. It felt like there was so much to say.

“Who is this?” came a voice that Elinor didn’t know, which was odd for the Summer Promenade. Everyone knew each other here. They had grown up together, their parents and grandparents had grown up together. The woman standing in part of the semi-circle that Elinor had just interrupted was beautiful, with strawberry-golden hair, but also a stranger to Elinor.

“Oh, right,” Marigold said, slipping her arms from around Elinor, though she held her hand as she drew her into the circle.

Now that Elinor saw the other faces, she realized she’d just walked into a nightmare: Tom Harrington was standing on Marigold’s other side. Next to Elinor was Fergus. They weren’t the problem. The problem was Francis and his wife, a ring glittering on her finger. This wasn’t new and Elinor was no longer upset (she hated him but that was different.) It still was not ideal, considering Francis seemed to have memory loss when it came to their relationship. Next to Francis was Hubert Knightley and clinging to his arm was the woman who spoke.

The new girlfriend. The not an Order woman. The woman that Elinor’s family felt she had lost out to, even though Hubert had never spared her anything but a passing glance.

“Elinor, this is Edelgard. Edelgard, this is Elinor Briar. Her family has a seat in Scotland.”

“Oh, it is so nice to meet you,” Edelgard said, her dazzling smile a weapon as she held out her hand. “I have heard so much about you. Francis, is this the same Elinor you went out with a few years ago?”

Elinor felt her stomach curdle as she dropped Edelgard’s hand as if it had burned her. The woman might not be Order, but she would fit in. Elinor wanted to speak first, but she was sure whatever she would say would only threaten Francis’—and the Smith family’s—precious ego. She held her tongue.

Though, it wasn’t Francis who spoke, but Fergus.

“Aye, and she’s also an excellent horsewoman.” His big, warm, heavy hand came down on her shoulder. It felt as if she had just sunk down into the mud beneath her boots. She felt steady. “She came in second in the woman’s race last year,” Fergus said, as if it was a brag that he was proud of.

Elinor blushed. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t have time to address it. She realized that Fergus had given her an opening and she was going to take it eagerly. Her chin lifted slightly. “That’s right. I did. And this year, I plan to win,” she announced confidently. “Will you be participating this year, Edelgard?”

“Oh, am I allowed?” And Edelgard, acting as perfect as any Order girl, turned to look up at Hubert.

“I don’t see why not. I am sure one of the women can let you borrow their riding gear, and the Harringtons have a whole stable of champion horses for you to pick from,” Hubert replied.

“Excellent,” Edelgard smiled sharply again and looked at Elinor. “It seems you have new competition.”

Elinor’s own gaze sharpened, and she opened her mouth. A threat on the tip of her tongue. Fergus’ hand on her shoulder squeezed slightly. She blinked and glanced towards him, but he was looking ahead, smiling pleasantly at this arrogant newcomer.

“It seems I do. Good luck then,” Elinor managed to grit out and then dropped her shoulder so that Fergus’ hand slipped off. “I think I heard someone call me, so I will see all of you later.”

Turning on her heel, Elinor left in a huff, her braid whipping behind her. She stepped back out into the corridor of tents, a sharp breeze blowing in off the ocean and funneling through the makeshift buildings. Shivering, she headed in the direction of the wind, wanting to walk along the ocean and cool her head before finding anyone else and only digging herself deeper.

She thought she heard someone calling her name for real this time, but she did not slow her gait and soon hit the shore and began to pick her way over black stones sure-footed. For once, the sun was bright, the clouds moving quickly through the sky, the day was warm, but the breeze was still biting.

“Jesus, woman! Hold yer horses!” Fergus called behind her, making Elinor stop in her tracks. He was picking his way towards her over the slippery stones. Her eyebrows raised as she watched him teeter and swing an arm out before he managed to make it to her.

“What are you doing, Fergus?” she raised her voice over the roar of the ocean and the wind.

“I just—” As soon as he stopped in front of her, he looked confused. As if he wasn’t sure how he had gotten there.

Elinor’s eyebrows rose further and she crossed her arms. “I want to be alone.”

“I know. That’s why—I mean...you aren’t mad at me, are ya?”

Yes, Elinor thought to herself.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Beats me, but I got a funny feeling ya were.” It was odd to see him squinting against the sunlight to look at her, his shoulders rounded slightly as he tried to keep his balance. For a moment, he didn’t look like the warrior that Elinor knew him to be. (She had watched his tourneys too and knew that he could hold his own even against the Golden Trio.) He looked like an unsure boy and there was something sweet in his face that endeared Elinor.

But no, she was annoyed at him.

“You—held me back,” she accused. “I don’t need your help! I can handle myself just fine.”

“That’s what I was worried about.” Fergus straightened up slightly, a twinkle to his eyes. “Thought that punch I showed you might come in handy and I figured you didn’t really want to give that Sassenach a black eye.”

“Aye, I did,” Elinor admitted forcefully, without meaning to.

The two of them blinked at each other, both shocked at the honesty in the words. And then, after a moment, Fergus laughed, and Elinor blushed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Elinor sniffed, lifting her chin. “You don’t get to decide—or pick my battles for me. As if you wouldn’t challenge someone who was challenging you.”

“Aye, you’re right about that. Difference is: you’re a woman.”

Elinor bristled, even though it was true.

Fergus continued. “And ya’re better than throwin’ a punch at every slight.”

“What if I’m not?” Her arms around herself squeezed and she suddenly felt tears in her eyes that she couldn’t blame on the wind.

Fergus shrugged. “I know ya are.”

Elinor glanced away and took a breath, though it was more shaky than she wanted it to be. “Right, well—I am not going to say thank you, if that’s what you want.”

That caused Fergus to laugh again. “Naw, you just beat the stuck-up outsider at the race tomorrow. That’ll be all the thanks I need.”

Elinor looked back at Fergus sharply. “If I win tomorrow, it won’t be for you.”

-> -> ->

Dawn snorted and stomped a foot, shifting beneath Elinor, who was poised atop of the chestnut mare. She reached down and pat her horse’s shoulder lightly, steadying her. They stood at the starting line of the race, waiting for the gun to go off and announce the start. The silence was loud with anticipation. The waves crashed and gulls cried overhead, but Elinor could only hear the pounding of her own heart as she crouched and gathered Dawn’s reins, adjusting them in her sweaty hands.

The gun fired. Its echo was drown out by the thundering of hooves as about twenty horses took off. The crowd gathered by the start line (which was also the finish line) cheered rancorously as the herd galloped by. Dawn surged forward, following the horses around her and Elinor let her. This was a distance race, twelve furlongs, as opposed to the average six, and many were going to forget that. As they made their way towards the ocean. Half the race would be run along the shoreline and then back over the fields to circle to where they had started again.

As they settled into the ride, Elinor pulled up Dawn slightly. The mare snorted in protest, grabbing the bit between her teeth, but Elinor just curled her fingers on the left rein, then the right, seesawing the bit gently from between Dawn’s teeth.

“Gotta conserve our energy,” Elinor murmured to the horse, as if she would understand. But Dawn was just as competitive as Elinor and she felt her straining against the tails of the horses in front of them. Elinor tried to focus on just the sound of her own breathing and the rhythm of her horse. Her heels pushed down to keep her balanced as Dawn picked her way over the terrain, familiar with uneven ground, as Elinor often rode her across the moors and near the lake. Elinor trusted the horse to know the best path and didn’t correct her when they took the long way around a fallen log instead of jumping over it.

Even still, they managed to pass several people within the first three furlongs, who had burst out of the gate in a sprint and were now falling behind. By the time they got to the halfway marker, they had passed a solid chunk of their competitors who were only used to running so far. Elinor silently thanked the Harringtons for making this more challenging. Their own horses were distance runners, so it made sense.

They bided their time until they hit the grass again, 9 furlongs to go, the crowd and finish line in the distance through the haze. The ground smoother here, even if Dawn’s hooves sunk into the mud with every step. Pushing her heels against Dawn’s side, she let the reins slip through her fingers somewhat. Dawn understood the signal and picked up the pace.

They came upon Edelgard easily, who was just ahead of them on her borrowed horse.

Elinor clucked her tongue and sank lower over Dawn’s neck, spreading her body weight and resisting the sharp wind. “Let’s go!” she encouraged Dawn.

She didn’t know if it was the sound of her shout or Dawn’s quickening hoofbeats that made Edelgard look over her shoulder, but Elinor knew they had them beat that moment. She stayed focused and when they passed the woman, she didn’t even glance in her direction. Her eyes were focused on the two people ahead of them.

“Come on,” Elinor urged, giving Dawn her head and feeling as Dawn’s neck stretched with the freedom of it, her stride elongating. They crashed by the eleventh furlong marker in the same moment that they passed the person who had been in second place. Elinor thought she saw a flash of red hair but was too focused to notice if it was Marigold.

They came up parallel against the final horse just as they heard the cheering from the crowd. The bay’s coat was lathered with sweat and Elinor could hear it snorting as it strained. Dawn had no such trouble. The chestnut pulled ahead easily, with energy to spare and shot over the finish line a whole body’s length ahead of the horse that came in second.

It took several strides for Elinor to slow Dawn down. They ran all the way through the crowd before she managed to settle the horse into a brisk trot and get her turned around. It gave the organizers enough time to stand at the finish line, holding the silver cup that was passed from family to family every year and a garland of roses to drape over Dawn’s neck.

Elinor’s fingers blackened from dirt as she rubbed them against Dawn’s sweaty shoulders and kissed her horse’s mane. “Oh, you were brilliant,” she cooed at her horse as they stopped in front of the family who had won last year. They gently laid the roses over Dawn’s neck and handed Elinor the trophy which she hoisted into the hair, flinging her sweaty hair back from her face as Dawn walked in a circle, cooling down after the run.

Her mother and father had pushed their way to the front of the crowd and Elinor stopped in front of them so that she could lean down and let her mother kiss her cheek and take the trophy from her. Elinor didn’t protest this, as it gave her a hand to pat Dawn’s shoulder with again as they made another lap, the final horses pulling over the finish line.

Marigold trotted over on her horse and threw an arm around Elinor. “That was bloody brilliant,” she laughed breathlessly.

“You were too.”

“Guess third is my place,” her friend joked good-naturedly.

Elinor laughed too and her eyes scanned the crowd again. This time, she saw Fergus, clapping along with everyone else. Their eyes caught for a moment and Elinor didn’t know why she did it, but she winked at him. The gesture made him throw his head back and let out a laugh that she could hear, even over the cheers. Her cheeks flushed and she sat a little straighter in her saddle, feeling as if, perhaps, she had won more than one thing today.

#swynwrimo #bdrpwrimo2021 #swynwrimotina #bdrpwrimotina2021 #the forging of bitter bonds #off to the races #self para #featuring una briar #featuring collum briar #featuring shannon charming #featuring francis smith #featuring marigold harrington #featuring fergus dunbroch #my new special skill #is making this elinor story #fit every task writing prompt #also this chapter was 3k oops #the whole story is like 16k at this point lol

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aquata-the-champ · 2 years

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#13 Crack!ship AU: Write a crack!ship au. This should be a one shot of any characters in the roleplay, yours or someone else’s! Definition of a crackship: seriously this shit can’t happen but in an alternate universe. Add 10 applicable aO3 tags (enemies to lovers, modern au, etc.)

Lauren I’m so sorry

Title: You’re On My Heart Just Like a Tattoo Rating: Teen and Up Relationships: Aquata Triton/Gregory Eeyore @notmuchofatail Additional Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Tattoo Parlor/Flower Shop AU, Canon Divergent, No Seriously Nothing About This Is Accurate To Their Personalities, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Gazing Into One Another’s Eyes, Purple Prose, Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Hallmark Movie Vibes, Wattpad Vibes, Inaccurate Portrayal of Tattooing, Inaccurate Portrayal of Eviction, Inaccurate Portrayal of How Twitter Works, Deus Ex Machina, Happy Ending

A/N: Sorry :)

Every day, packages are delivered to the wrong shop at 37 Main Street. What many people don’t realize is that the building has two floors, a florist on the bottom floor and a tattoo parlor on the top floor. Every day, Aquata Triton signs for packages that do not belong to her, and every day she stomps upstairs, her annoyance building as she climbs each stair. “Eeyore! Another one!” she shouts as she rounds on the tattoo parlor. Regulars at Gregory’s shop have come to expect this.

Every day, Gregory Eeyore looks up from the design he is working on and grunts that Aquata can leave it wherever, and Aquata complains that he needs to start specifying to people that Eeyore Tattoos is located on the second floor at 37 Main Street, and Gregory promises he’ll do it, going back to working on his art.

But Gregory never does.

Here is another thing many people don’t realize about the tenants of 37 Main Street. That they don’t even know themselves: the owner of the tattoo parlor and the owner of the florist are desperately, hopelessly in love.

~*~*AQUATA’S POV*~*~

Aquata never wanted to be a florist. She inherited the shop after her mother’s death, after her big city dreams of coaching the England National Swim Team were dashed and she returned to her small hometown to start over. People are often surprised when they hear that this is her profession, because florists are supposed to be gentle and Aquata is anything but.

“Wow. What’d those flowers ever do to you?” Gregory snorts, loitering in the doorway of the florist.

Aquata looks up from the bunch of red roses she is wrestling into a complex arrangement for a summer wedding. It’s a difficult operation, and it takes more strength than people realize. Aquata’s long brown curls have seemed to escape her scrunchie, and small tendrils stick to her sweaty forehead.

And there’s Gregory, standing in her doorway. Cool and composed as ever. Aquata hates that clever little smirk, how his blue eyes seem to see right through her.

“What do you want, Gregory?” Aquata groans, wiping her forehead.

“Do I need a reason to stop by my downstairs neighbor’s shop and see how things are going?”

Aquata looks at Gregory quizzically. There has to be a higher motive. There always is. She’s been feuding with the tattoo artist ever since she moved back to town, and neither can ever seem to resist the opportunity to get the upper hand.

“Yes,” she says, then goes back to fighting with the flowers. She can feel those blue eyes on her, somehow, and a strange feeling comes over Aquata. One she can’t describe. She wants to say something, but she doesn’t even know what. So Aquata puts up her defenses. She looks up again. “Well?” she says impatiently.

Gregory nods, smiling to himself but looking resigned.

“Right, then. I’ll let you get on with it.”

~*~*GREGORY’S POV*~*~

Gregory knows it was stupid. He gets back upstairs and kicks a file cabinet, cursing his own silly notions. There was so much more he wanted to say. That his shop was in trouble, that he was thinking of leaving this town for good after the last disaster to hit, that he wanted to run away to Paris-- but that he wanted her to convince him to stay. For some reason. It was ridiculous. They were enemies!

But something in the way that Aquata smirks at him every time she hands him a wrongly-addressed package, something in the way that Aquata looks both strong and soft at the same time when she holds a delicate rose, something makes Greg wonder what it would be like to hold her hand.

Gregory is no romantic hero. He’s never been able to charm people the way that the protagonists of rom coms can-- all he can do is be himself. His confidence around Aquata has always been a shield, a shield covering his fears and his insecurity deep inside.

Things are quiet for a few days after that. The stairway to the tattoo shop is woefully quiet, and Greg wonders whether he completely misread things. He finds himself idly sketching hands-- always hands, curled around delicate red roses.

And then one day, it happens. An eviction notice. Gregory never had the kind of money Aquata Triton has, and this shop isn’t a fallback career for him, it’s his whole life. The Paris plan was always a fantasy, never a reality. Maybe, he supposes, he can move in with some old friends out in Manchester.

~*~*~*AQUATA’S POV *~*~*~

When Gregory mentions this, in passing, as she drops off yet another package, Aquata’s face falls. Gregory? Leaving? Aquata complains about him, makes a big show of annoyance when his packages mistakenly arrive, but she’s fallen into the easy rhythm of seeing him.

It’s five thousand dollars of rent that Gregory cannot pay. Chump change to Aquata, who’s never had to worry about money in her life. For the first time, she understands the difference in their positions.

Aquata stares at Gregory, as though trying to take in every detail before he disappears. His eyes are as familiar and yet as ever-changing as the sky above, his tattoos peeking out of his shirt collar like a book at the library Aquata wants to read but never has gotten around to. The world seems to go dark around her as Gregory idly supposes he’ll probably end up a few hours away in Manchester. As dark and black as the ink that Greg is now turning around to prepare for his next client.

Gregory can’t leave. He just can’t. Not before Aquata has the opportunity to tell him everything she’s never said. Not before Aquata can finally read the book in Gregory’s blue eyes, in the tattoos that cover his body.

She has an idea. It’s a ridiculous one. But not nearly as ridiculous as the magnetic pull she feels toward Gregory.

“Do you take walk-ins?” Aquata blurts out, before she even has time to think it through.

Gregory looks taken aback. “Er-- yeah. I do. Why?”

“I want one. Before you go.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

For the first time since she’s ever spoken to him, Aquata’s voice quivers shyly. “To remember you by,” she adds.

They lock eyes, and a million years flash by in a brief ten seconds. Everything Aquata wants to say is blooming in front of her eyes like flowers, and everything Gregory wants to say is spilling out like ink. But they can’t say it. They can only stand, eyes locked, hands shaking, the world spinning around them, and suddenly they both understand.

Gregory is first to break the spell. “Right then. What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want to do. I have five thousand dollars. I want to spend it all-- I don’t know what that gets me, but do it.”

*~*~*GREGORY’s POV *~*~*

Gregory’s jaw drops. It’s so much money, and to spend all at once... He’s never inked anything close to this price. “Aquata...”

“Do it, Gregory.”

“Don’t you want to see a design?”

Aquata shakes her head. And she hopes her gaze conveys the truth: she wants him to ink from the heart.

The tattoo takes weeks. Every day, after work, Aquata makes her way up the stairs for the next installment in her sleeve. Some days, she’s chatty, prodding Gregory for details about his next move and teasing him about the music he plays while he works. Other days, she’s more subdued. Those are the days when she remembers that the last stroke of ink to go on her arm will also be the last time she sees Gregory.

The design starts to take shape: roses twined around hands, winding all the way up Aquata’s left arm. Aquata wonders whether it’s a stock design, something Gregory would give anyone. And then one day she notices his notebook. “Are those designs for someone?” she asks curiously.

Gregory suddenly looks hesitant. “Erm, don’t worry about it,” he stammers.

“No, I want to see,” she says, grabbing the notebook with her free arm. The first page she opens to almost causes her to drop the book. It’s a drawing of the design Gregory has been inking onto her, dated one year ago. And in the bottom corner, it reads: For Aquata.

Aquata stares at Gregory. “You’ve... been planning this for a while.”

He blushes. “Well, I never thought you’d actually want it.”

“Why’s that?”

“I always thought you hated me.”

“I always thought I did, too.”

They lock eyes, and this time, Gregory doesn’t look away. There’s a silent exchange between them-- a nod of the head, a quirk of the eyebrow, a twist of the lips. And then suddenly, Gregory puts down the tattoo gun and Aquata leans forward and draws Gregory into a long, passionate kiss. He leans down to the tattoo bed to kiss her back.

It’s not the most productive day. But together, Aquata and Gregory create something even more beautiful, two roses twining around one another.

*~*~*~*AQUATA’s POV*~*~*~*

When the tattoo is finished, it’s bittersweet. “I suppose that’s it,” she says, looking down at her arm and then back up at Gregory. “You’re just going to leave.”

Gregory nods. The money was enough to keep the shop open for another month, but after this, he knows he doesn’t have long. The landlord has been banging on his door every day, demanding more money, and one tattoo isn’t enough to change everything.

Aquata is fighting back tears. She never cries in front of anyone. But Gregory isn’t just anyone anymore. “Will you do one thing?” she asks desperately. “Will you take a photo?”

It’s a miracle the photo doesn’t come out blurry, because Gregory’s eyes are filled with tears now, too. But the photo captures every line, every meticulous detail, now covering Aquata’s arm forever.

Later, when Aquata tweets the photo out, she knows that nobody will truly understand it. Nobody will know all of the laughter and the tears and the heart-wrenching emotion that has gone into every line of the sleeve, flowing through the ink. Nobody will know that she fell in love over this tattoo, or that it was a year in the making. But she decides to try to explain it anyway, in a thread that is more emotional and raw than anything she’s ever said to anyone, much less the entire internet.

She just hopes it can be enough. But part of her knows that it won’t be. Gregory and Aquata share one last kiss, and in the fading light streaming through the windows, Aquata wants to remember Gregory like this forever. A tattoo on her heart.

*~*~*~*ONE YEAR LATER*~*~*~*

“Gregory! We need more roses out front!” Aquata calls from the register. Gregory emerges from the back room with a box overflowing with red roses.

“Just tell me where to put them!”

The Grand Re-Opening is tonight. 37 Main Street no longer has two shops: it has one.

The Inked Rose is the newest addition to Main Street, a combination tattoo parlor and florist where fleeting beauty meets permanent art. After Aquata’s tweet went viral, everyone demanded their own floral tattoos-- and the landlord simply couldn’t evict Gregory any longer. Business exploded and Aquata proposed a deal: if they merged their shops, they never had to worry about packages being delivered to the wrong place again.

Some days, they switch off. Aquata is learning the art of tattooing, and Gregory is learning about flower arrangements. Main Street is booming with business, and Aquata has learned that, while she still has no particular passion for flower arranging, there’s something about doing a job with a person you love that makes it so much better.

Because she does love him. And he loves her too.

“Special delivery!” Gregory announces, presenting the box of roses to Aquata.

“What?”

The roses spell out two words: “Marry Me”?

“Eeyore!” Aquata groans, but she can’t keep that stupid grin off her face. She tackles him with a hug, and he stumbles backward into a flower display. Daisies rain down around Gregory.

“Is that a yes?”

Aquata smiles. “Yes.”

#this is stupidly long #the tags rlly say it all #im so sorry again lmfao #bdrpwrimo #bdrpwrimoemma #bdrpwrimo2021

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vixey-chakraborty · 2 years

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BDRPwrimo Day Two -- Scrapbook Memories

Vixey’s Wedding Album

Create a scrapbook/photo album for your character, including a description. If you don’t have a way to edit photos, just post pictures and describe the pages. Bonus points if canon.

[shout out to this vogue article that walked me through the wedding]

#swynwrimo #bdrpwrimo2021 #swynwrimotina #bdrpwrimotina2021 #featuring charlie #wedding stuff #is this cheating?#i don't think so #i learned a lot about indian weddings lmao #this took me an hour to put together #tho shout out to richa for having 500 easily accessible photos of her #FRANKLY amazing wedding

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labellerose-acheron · 2 years

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BDRPwrimo Day Thirty -- BDRP Character Wishlist

Clementine’s Characters You Are Required to Get or She’s Kicking You Out of the RP

A list of 10+ characters you’d like to see in the RP (for you to play or someone else!)

Kiongozi Kimani [skeleton]

obviously i’ve mentioned this a bunch of times, but i would just to love to have Kion around! my son!! he’s a lot like simba (though tbh way more chill) and i think having that dymanic could be really fun. maybe it’s a little contentious because kion resents leaving kenya or simba trying to parent him. or it is strained because kion is still mad about that time simba didn’t talk to his fam for like 3 years. there is a lot to unpack!

Aladdin Abboud [skeleton]

okay, so i put out a plot call for this but i have a SUPER great idea for a jasmine/aladdin duo. there is lot open to tweak about it and i don’t wanna give too much away but i WILL say it involves time travel and demons. hmu.

Inside Out Gang [skeleton]

any of them!! we already have a few people interested, we really only need one or two more for a full set and i’m always obsessed with coming in with a full team. imagine the found family vibes! maybe some of them haven’t seen each other in a while! they’re kind of famous! lots of angst to go around. plus some people haven’t chosen who they are really settled on yet, so there is wiggle room for who people want!

Copper Russell [skeleton]

i love vixey. i love tod. i love the fox and the hound more than life. i played copp at one point and i loved him!! he’d be a great small town cop to come into town. or just your average like farmhand or a less flashy job. i think he could be really fun and his backstory is wide open.

Henri Cogsworth [skeleton]

i have always wanted a cogsworth around! i love the batb gang (lumiere is great too.) it would be so fun for him to be an uncle figure to belle. either having known her father (maurice is a clockmaker/inventor so if he does anything with clocks, boom.) OR i actually have a plot where belle is gonna meet her mom’s side of the fam so that could be fun!

Gaston LeGume [skeleton]

i just think he’s neat. seriously. he’s always been so fun when we’ve had versions of him in the RP. and i love coming up with wacky bgs for him/belle (though ofc not required!) -- from out right enemies to weird childhood friends and gaston just irritates her lol. i think he could have a lot of good shit going on, the deer has so much potential and with characters like the order and clayton around it’s just a good time for him.

Ryan Macintosh [skeleton]

speaking of the order! bring my nephew! i want to have so many nephews!! he could be so much fun as we move into our next phase of order stuff, don’t miss out! time is running down. ~~

Nanette “Nana” Darling [skeleton]

i am literally obsessed with the darlings. i really love them so much, they all have such an interesting dynamic, but you know what they are missing? the Mom Friend (TM) who fusses over everyone and is just sweet as pie! there is even a potential to make her mixed race, why not? ?

Woody Pride/Buzz Lightyear [skeleton/skeleton]

i put this as a duo, because much like mike and sully, i feel like they are iconique and should come in together. i could potentially be convinced to pick up woody lol. it would be ,, really easy to do. also buzz lightyear was once in the rp as john boyega and i just think someone should do that again bc it was literally amazing. big brained.

Peter Pan [skeleton]

i guess i’m a peter pan bitch now i hate it. BUT -- as i have said a million times, i LOVE the fae/unseelie. he would be so fun as another prince, but he could also be super fun as a human who made a deal with a queen and lived to regret it or something. i think there is plenty of potential there.

speed round: more villains. more batb characters. ALADDIN/MIDDLE EASTERN characters. more lion king characters. more order people. more anti-magick people (on any scale.) okay bye love y’all <3

#swynwrimo #bdrpwrimo2021 #swynwrimotina #bdrpwrimotina2021 #get these characters #🔫🔫

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simba-bonfamille-lyons · 2 years

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BDRPwrimo Day Twenty-Seven -- The Final Labor

Into the Grishaverse

Based on the final task for the labors, write an AU featuring all your characters in a role. Choose an AU, set out a list of goals for yourself based on tropes within that AU (ex. a red shirt has to die if you’re doing Star Trek or someone in the group gets bitten by a zombie and doesn’t tell the rest if you’re doing an apocalypse), then write to your heart’s content! To count, each character must have a role and your tropes must be laid out beforehand.

Tropes:

Girl with Main Character Syndrome

Normal Person Dragged into the Bullshit

Clearly Evil Guy Pretending to be Good

One of each of the three kinds of magic: Corporalki, Ethrealki, and Materialki

Leader of a Gang

Comic Relief Character

A Fjerdan who changes sides

A heist that goes wrong

Dramatic climax

Multiple POVs

cw -- nothing serious, just like regular YA violence and shit

MEI Mei was nervous. She stood in her luxurious rooms within the Little Palace, doing her best to practice her magic. General Morey had told her that she was ready, but she didn’t feel like she was. After all, who was she to wield such power? This had all been such a whirlwind. She still felt like the scrappy orphaned girl with skinned knees, who was glad for her position as a mapmaker because it guaranteed a warm meal.

The Little Palace was extraordinary, of course, and she was extremely grateful for the protection it afforded her, but the longer she stayed here, the more lonely she was. The more suffocated she felt. She hadn’t heard from any of her friends outside the palace walls since she had arrived and she was starting to feel as if the ornate walls were more of a prison than a refuge.

Who was she to question it, though? A grisha who did not know how to be a grisha. A girl who did not really know how to be a girl--she was too bony elbowed and as plain as an ugly duckling.

Mei shook these thoughts off, concentrating on the glowing orb of light emitting from her fingers. She twisted the light around, expanding it--

The door burst open and the light flashed away as Mei jumped.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Abigail scoffed as she breezed in, flanked by identical twin sister, Amelia. The Tailor gestured to the thick black kefta hanging along the wall.

“Oh, I--is it time already?”

“Is it time already?” Abigail repeated, her voice going slightly nasally. Her sister tittered. “Sit down. Let’s at least get your face in order. I assume you can handle dressing by yourself? The General won’t be pleased with you if you’re late.”

Mei nodded and swallowed, sitting on her hands and feeling as if she was about to be tortured. The two sisters went to work. As they stole the red from a rose to paint across her lips and the soft blue eyeshadow from a stone, Mei looked out the window, over the grounds--wondering if she was ever going to see her friends again. Ever going to see Candace again...

|| || ||

TOULOUSE It was no secret that Toulouse thought that the Sun Summoner was hardly worth anyone’s time. He was a man extremely familiar with illusion and sleight of hand. There was a part of him that, privately, doubted the girl they were looking for was even real. It would not surprise him if the whole thing was elaborate propaganda touted by Ravka so that they may win the war and keep the separatists from, well, separating.

However, none of that was of any concern to him. He had a job to do. Capture the Sun Summoner and bring her back to Kerch, deliver her and receive the millions of kruge in return. Pay off Belle’s debt at the Menagerie and secure the Dregs’ future in the barrel. And, most importantly, finance his revenge against Blackwell.

First things first: getting into the Little Palace.

“I don’t think it will be that hard,” Simba said, stretching his lanky legs out underneath the rickety table in the pub just outside of Os Alta they had decided to hole up in.

“Not at all,” Belle said drolly, crossing her arms and shooting their companion a look. “It’s only the most well-guarded place in all of Ravka.”

“Easy.” Simba shrugged his shoulders.

“And what, may I ask, is your strategy?”

“I’ll flirt my way in.” Simba grinned as Belle rolled her eyes and looked at Lou.

“What is the plan?” Belle asked him.

Lou nodded once. “Danny is going to get us in.”

“What?” squawked the boy, who hadn’t said anything yet and was looking miserably into his ale.

“You don’t think I brought you along for fun now, did you?” Lou asked dryly.

“But, I--how--how am I supposed to get us in?”

“By being honest.” Lou slid a piece of paper across the table towards him. Danny picked it up gingerly, looking at it as if it might bite him. “Tickets to tomorrow’s performance. Your father got them specially for you.”

“He’s not going to be there is he?” Danny looked around the bar, as if his father was going to materialize.

“Do keep up. You are going in his stead. No one is going to turn away a Darling, one of the richest families in Kerch.”

“And what about us?” Simba asked, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table.

Lou looked pointedly at the revolvers on Simba’s hips. “You’re security.”

“Naturally,” Simba grinned and gave Danny a wink. The boy blushed to his ear tips. Lou ignored him.

“And Belle is your stepmother, accompanying you for the party,” he instructed.

“N-no one is ever going to believe that,” Danny protested weakly.

“They will if you sell it properly.” Belle also looked disgruntled by this, but Lou knew she wasn’t going to argue.

“And what about you?” she asked him, her voice soft.

“I’ll make my own way.”

“And once we are inside?” Belle pressed.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

|| || ||

VIXEY Vixey had no idea how she had wound up in this situation. The water and wind was freezing and it was so dark, she felt as if she could not see an inch from her face. Only her magic, reaching out through the gloom could tell her anything. Mostly that everyone on the ship was dead, except for the lump of a man next to her, who was barely breathing.

Her hand touched his back, pressing against his fur coat. She found the rhythm of his heart and slowly raised it, beat by beat, until he jerked--gasping and coughing. Awake. Though, his teeth were chattering so hard, she thought he might bite off his tongue.

“Kick,” she urged him, trying to move her own legs--even though she was rather sure she was losing feeling in them already.

“Witch,” he cursed at her.

“If you want to survive, kick.”

“What did you do to me?” he growled.

“I saved your life. Look. Neither of us are getting out of her without the other, so either you want to die, or you are going to help.” She leveled him with a look. It was dark, so dark, she could barely see an inch from her face, but what she could see was the blue of his eyes. Until he turned away and began to kick.

|| || ||

CANDACE The Little Palace. More like the Little Prison. At least, that was how Candace felt about it as she was led through the great halls. Everything was so decadent it was making her sick to her stomach, like eating too many sweets. She had never seen such opulence and, you know, she really preferred her tent outside of the Fold to the coldness of these stones.

But, she wasn’t here for herself. She was here for Mei, who she hadn’t heard from since she’d been carted off by the blasted Grisha. It had been months. And not even a letter. Candace had no idea if it was because Mei thought she was too good for her now, but Candace was determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

She stood, looking over the large military map, tracking the different placements with her eyes. Trying to find her own unit. Looking at the spot where she had seen the beautiful stag.

“You must be Soldier Flynn,” came a smooth voice from behind.

Candace cursed, whirling around to come face to face with the General of the Ravkan army. The person that she was here to see. No, that wasn’t right. The person that she needed to see in order to see Mei. Her shoulders straightened slightly and she set her jaw, ignoring the uneasy feeling in her gut.

“General Morey,” she said curtly.

“I heard you have some information for me.” The man came closer.

“Where is Mei?”

“Miss Qin is busy, but I will give you two a moment at the first available opportunity.”

Candace’s eyes narrowed slightly. She had a feeling that, by the way this man was looking down his nose at her, he was thinking about tossing her from the palace first chance he got. That simply wouldn’t do. She needed to see Mei. Just--make sure she was alright. Even if the girl decided she hated Candace for being a regular person, not some fantastical Sun Summoner or Grisha, at least--at least Candace wanted the opportunity to have Mei tell it to her face.

“She will want to see me.”

“Are you sure about that?” General Morey asked easily, a comfortable smile on his face. “Tell me what I want to know and I will make sure that you have a comfortable stay here.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Isn’t that what you came all this way for?”

“No.”

“Ah, I see,” General Morey said in a way that made Candace think he really was able to see right through her. Blasted Grisha. None of them were trustworthy. “Very well. After the court demonstration, you may see Mei. However, remember who she is now. And who you are.”

Candace’s jaw ticked but she nodded her head, already planning to make her escape as soon as General Morey left the room.

|| || ||

TOULOUSE They had made it past the guards with little fuss. Not that Lou was surprised by this. The guards outside the castle were not precious Grisha. Those were reserved for the more interior places, but getting past the walls was the most important part. Now that they were in, they huddled inside the stagecoach they’d nicked, looking over the floorplans they’d heisted from the archives last night.

“Simba, you are in charge of handling our get away. And keeping an eye on Danny.”

“Hey--”

“I can do that,” Simba said, winking at Danny. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Danny grumbled something about wanting to be of more use. Lou, once again, ignored him.

“Belle and I will make our way inside disguised as guards. When we find the Grisha--”

“The Sun Saint,” Belle corrected primly.

“Whatever. We will take her and meet you out in the courtyard. The castle is bound to be swarming with guards and such, but we’ve made it out of worse before.”

Had they? Lou wasn’t sure. Certainly not something with such high stakes. Belle’s freedom. Lou’s vengeance. The Crow Club. Belle’s freedom.

Lou’s jaw ticked.

“Any questions?”

“Yeah, I got about five hundred, but I doubt you’re going to answer any of them.”

“You’re right. Belle, with me.” Lou stepped out of the carriage, glancing around before holding the door open for her and waving to her that the coast was clear. He handed her the guard uniform he’d taken from the laundry after finding out that the castle outsourced some of its uniforms to a local shoppe. Typical. Turning his back, he crossed his arms over his chest, scanning their little corner of the courtyard while Belle changed behind him.

“Is this really a good idea?” she asked.

“Do I need to answer that?”

“No.” There was silence for a few moments. Lou heard a belt jangling. “Do you think she’ll come with us easily?”

“No.”

Another long silence followed. Belle appeared in front of him as silent as ever. Lou did not flinch, just held her gaze steadily. Inside of his gloves, his palms began to sweat. He adjusted his grip on his cane.

“She won’t get hurt, will she?”

Your soft heart is showing. Cover it up.

“Not by my hand.” A beat. “Unless she struggles.”

Belle’s gaze sharpened. “She’s a saint, Lou.”

“And I’m a god. Now, let’s go before your crisis of faith costs us the Crow Club.” He turned on his heel and tossed his cane through the window. A crippled guard would certainly raise eyebrows, though, without it, Lou felt rather naked. Or maybe, it was the way Belle was looking at him. Simba caught it deftly and gave him a little nod.

He started across the grounds. Belle followed so silently at his side that someone else might mistake her for not being there, but Lou knew she was. He could sense her presence. And her boiling anger with him, but he was unconcerned. Let her be angry with him. As long as they completed this mission, that would not matter.

|| || ||

THOMAS They had survived the shipwreck but at what cost? His only companion now was a wicked witch who could control his emotions. He should just kill her.

Why didn’t he just kill her?

“Come on, we have to find shelter or we’re going to freeze to death,” the witch said, lifting up her skirts high enough that he saw a flash of her smooth, tanned thigh. His gaze flicked away and he blushed, grinding his jaw.

His steps were hesitant, but eventually he moved. She was right after all. The wind was still fierce and Djel was not forgiving. The cold plains would surely take them even though the water hadn’t, unless they were able to find somewhere to get through the rapidly approaching night.

He should kill her.

Every step they took felt like another betrayal, but Tom didn’t know what else to do. He was lost. Trapped with a woman who was more wild than woman.

“There!” called the witch, pointing to a hut leaning against the white cliff face. She didn’t hesitate before trudging ahead. Tom followed more reluctantly.

“What if someone lives there?” he called.

“Then I will convince them to let us stay!” She laughed and with what seemed like renewed energy, made her way into the tent.

Tom wondered if maybe whoever owned it would get to her first and kill her as he made his way toward the flap. Then, he remembered, they didn’t know where they were. In Fjerda or Ravka. Either she was in enemy territory--

Or he was.

Ducking into the tent, he realized it was empty. His shoulders dropped, the tension leaving them for a moment as he immediately went towards the stack of firewood, beginning to build a fire. The tension returned immediately.

“What are you doing?!”

“Hm?” The witch said, already half undressed. Tom tore his eyes away. “Getting out of these wet clothes. We’ll freeze to death if we stay in them.”

Tom’s jaw ticked. “It’s inappropriate.”

“You know I’m right.”

The problem was--she was right. Growing up in the cold, he knew it to be true. Falling in the ice wasn’t just deadly because the currents could sweep you away, but because the cold would seep into your bones. Reluctantly, he turned his back to her and began peeling his soaking clothes off. Hidden beneath the large fur cloak he had found to wrap himself in.

When he turned back around, she was already perched on the side of the cot, wrapped in a blanket, a lovely bare shoulder peaking from under it. He blushed again.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

Witch. He went back to tending to the fire, coaxing it to a roaring flame.

“It’s lewd.”

“Only to you prudish Fjerdans. I am quite comfortable.”

“A lady would never.”

“I’m no lady.”

“A woman, then.”

“Maybe not a Fjerdan woman, though I tend to think some might like it.”

“No, they wouldn’t.”

“Alright, alright. Well, this woman does. Now, come over here and get warm.”

“What?”

“Body heat. Don’t they teach you anything in those Fjerdan schools besides hate?” Vixey rolled her eyes, but scooched over on the bed.

“They teach us lots of things,” Tom said, standing from where he was crouched by the fire and moving towards the bed hesitantly. Feeling pulled there, as if he could not stop himself. “Like how witches seduce good men.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” Vixey said innocently, rolling her bare shoulder.

Tom’s jaw grit. “No.”

“Then I don’t see the problem, now come on, you Druskelle.”

Reluctantly, Tom laid down next to her, though on top of the blankets and several inches away. The witch rolled her eyes and moved onto her side, sliding her freezing hand over his bare chest. Tom tensed, but didn’t move away. Despite the cold, her touch was soft.

“What are you doing?” he growled.

“Warming us up. Now, shut up.” From her fingertips, he felt the warmth flood through his body. He hardly had time to contemplate the feeling as it relaxed him and sent him right to sleep.

|| || ||

MEI The Sun Summoner. That was what everyone was whispering about. They were whispering about her. Plain, unremarkable Mei. The Sun Saint, they were calling her. An idol. She didn’t feel as if she deserved any of it, and as she stood on the dias, waiting to be properly introduced, she found she felt sick to her stomach. There was not a familiar face in the crowd. Only the Grisha she had met the last few months in the Little Palace, most of whom hated her.

There was also the royal family, of course, who looked at her like she was something to eat. Like she was going to satiate their ravenous souls. They needed her to win the war. Mei had no idea how to win a war.

“I present to you, the Sun Summoner!” General Morey called out over the crowd and when he turned to smile at Mei, she suddenly felt more grounded than she had before. That was right, General Morey was familiar. As mysterious as he was, she felt from the first moment she’d met him that they shared some connection. He had told her so himself. Cursed with shadow, she with light. They complimented each other. No one else would ever understand them like the other did. And, the longer she stayed in the Little Palace, the more she realized that was true. Certainly, Candace would never understand her. Candace hated her. She hated all Grisha. Once, Mei had hated them to.

Now, she did not know how to feel. Just that she felt as if she had a duty.

Taking a breath, she felt the power of the sun crackle in her finger tips and she let the light flow through her. It felt natural now, after months of practice. The bright light filled the ballroom, amid gasps of the crowd, Mei felt her heart expanded. The energy moved through her and she made it bigger, brighter still. It split into several orbs that danced over the crowd until once again the extinguished with a clench of her fist. There was a round of applause and Mei couldn’t help but smile as General Morey grabbed her hand and helped her off the dias she had been standing on.

They wove through the crowd, and she knew General Morey was trying to lead her out, but they were stopped by the prince.

“That was a marvelous display,” he said. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Mei told Prince Thistle with a little curtsy, her cheeks pink. It was no secret that the prince was both charming and a flirt. Mei didn’t really know what to think of him. She had only met him briefly a few times.

“I daresay she’ll be ready for the frontlines soon,” he commented. “Do you find yourself growing in power?” His gaze was eager, hungry. Mei could see the strategy in his eyes. It reminded her, just a bit, of Candace. She felt General Morey’s hand, which had been on her shoulder, clench slightly.

“Yes, I believe so,” Mei said with a little nod.

“Excellent, excellent.” He gave her another flash of brilliant smile before moving off.

General Morey swept her out of the room, down a hallway and into his personal chambers.

“I thought you might want to catch your breath,” General Morey said softly as they entered. His hand came up to push a stray piece of hair back from Mei’s face and she blushed. Of everyone in the Little Palace, the general was the one who treated her as if she was an actual person. With proper feelings. Her heart started thundering in her chest when she realized how close they were standing.

Had he wanted to be alone too?

“Yes, thank you,” she murmured to him, her eyes searching his. Normally, he pulled away now. Mei could sense there was something holding him back. Something from his past. A reluctance. She felt none of that now, though. Perhaps it was the adrenaline from the display she had just given, or her loneliness, or the way that he was looking at her, but before she could think about it, she pushed up onto her toes and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

She felt him tense beneath her grip, but only for a moment. The kiss broke, Mei’s blush hot on her face, but then he leaned back in and kissed her fiercely, pressing her back against the table behind them. She scrambled for purchase, grabbing onto the collar of his kefta. Kissing him felt the same way holding the warmth of the sun felt: it burned through her and she could tell there was a danger to it, but she wanted it anyway. She knew she could tame it, if just given the chance.

“General Mo—oh, er, sorry sir.”

The kiss was ripped apart as General Morey reeled back. He smoothed his hair and once again became the cold general that everyone knew. “What is it?”

“There’s been a disturbance.”

General Morey turned to her. “Stay here.” And then, he swept out of the room.

|| || ||

TOULOUSE They had found the Sun Summoner’s path, knowing where she would be going after the gala. However, before they arrived, several other guards were running past. Just as Toulouse had suspected, there were plenty of people who wanted the valuable Grisha asset killed. It was the exact kind of diversion that they needed. As the guards ran by, he pointed subtly to another landing, so that Belle would angle that way. They peeled off the main crowd.

“Where are we going?” she whispered to them as she matched his gait, though he could tell she was anxious, perching on the balls of her feet as if she was about to take flight.

“Miss Qin disappeared with General Morey. I would imagine they’re somewhere together.”

“We can’t take them both on,” Belle argued.

“No, we can’t, but that diversion means that they will have someone fetch the general. Leaving our target on her own.” They made their way down the hall. “You go around the other way, make sure it is clear. I will grab the Sun Summoner and meet you at the corridor.”

Belle nodded. “Be careful.” Then, she slipped into the shadows and disappeared from his side. He walked confidently down the hall towards the two guards stationed outside the only room.

“I have come to relieve you. General’s orders.”

The guards looked at each other.

“General’s orders, he needs more help with the assassin and I am to watch the doors.”

The guards glanced at him warily. “I highly doubt assassins are going to take their time while you two hesitate. I certainly don’t want to be the one explaining that to the general.”

“Alright, alright. We are going.” The guards jogged off and Lou rolled his eyes. Hired help could never be trusted to do a job right.

Lou slipped into the room, eye brows rising. The general’s chambers. Well, that was none of his business.

What was his business was the fact that there was no one in the room. “Saints,” he cursed and did a quick, limping lap just to check. However, before he fully rounded the room, another guard came in.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Lou stiffened, eyes darting around the room. He grabbed a candelabra from the chest behind him, lobbing it at the guard, who shot out a hand and crumpled the metal in midair with a clench of his fist.

Saints. A bloody Materialki.

The guard approached him, hands raised and Lou backed up towards the bed. Once the guard was close enough, he ripped down the curtains hanging around the four poster and threw them around the guard’s head, sending him to the ground. He hopped over him, wincing as the pain shot up his leg.

By the time he reached the door, Belle was hovering just outside it.

“I heard a commotion,” she told him.

“Change of plans, let’s get out of here.” Lou hurried down the hallway, but not fast enough, they were spotted by another group of guards and had to cut down a different route. Entering into a room, they turned and faced their opponents.

[Honestly, I am too lazy at this point to describe the fight scene so like: insert fight scene here.]

Lou and Belle spilled back into the courtyard, catching their breath. They made their way towards the coach, Simba perched on top of it, grinning like a fool.

“Didn’t catch our little saint?” he greeted them as they piled into the carriage.

“How do you know?” Lou grit, cursing himself for the failure. They would manage to capture her again, he was sure, but nothing would be as easy. They had ruined their chance and would need to regroup.

“I have my ways. Walk on.” Simba clucked to the horses and they pulled out of the courtyard.

|| || ||

MEI Not moments after General Morey dashed out of the room, did a panel in the wall open.

“Girl, come quickly.”

Mei startled as she turned and saw her teacher, Elinor, standing, holding a candle aloft. “What?”

“Come. Quickly.”

Hesitating, looking over her shoulder, Mei watched the door for a moment. General Morey had told her to stay here. Clearly something was wrong. Had he perhaps sense Elinor to fetch her?

“Alright,” she said and scurried to her teacher’s side, following her into the tunnel.

“Where are we?”

“Tunnels under the Little Palace. One of the only ways out of the building. Built in case of a siege.” Elinor was walking so quickly that Mei had to trot to keep up, her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Where are we going?”

“You are leaving.”

“I’m what?” Mei stopped in her tracks.

Without looking behind her, Elinor grabbed her wrist and started tugging her forward. “You are fling from this cage. Gem will not have you.”

“Gem?”

“General Morey.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Mei’s brow furrowed now.

“He is not who you think he is. He is dangerous and you need to leave.”

“And how to do you know this?” Mei asked doubtfully.

The shadows along the walls elongated. The same power General Morey--Gem--had. Mei’s eyes widened, already knowing before Elinor said anything at all.

“Because I am his mother and I have known for a very long time. Now, you need to leave, please. He cannot harness your power or it will spell the end for everyone.”

“My power? What--”

“He does not want to destroy the Fold. He made the Fold.”

“The Darkling made the Fold.”

“Yes,” agreed Elinor, still hurrying along.

“You mean--that doesn’t make any sense. He would have to be--”

“Hundreds of years old? Yes. He has gone by many names over the centuries, waiting for you. Your power. So that he could harness the Fold once and for all.”

Mei’s stomach sank. She didn’t want to believe, but there must be some truth.

“Now, go that way. Out the tunnels and leave.”

“Where will I go?” she asked and knew she sounded like a scared, stupid girl, but that was what she was, wasn’t she? Just a scared, stupid girl. She didn’t deserve these powers.

Elinor did not answer, just shoved her down the tunnel and then turned back the way she came. Mei started forward after a few moments, feeling as if she had no other choice. She would leave. She would find Candace. Together, they would escape. Go somewhere no one would ever look for them and start over. It did not take long for her to find her way out of the tunnels. She came up to fresh air at the courtyard, where several courtiers stagecoaches were lined up, waiting to take their masters home.

Taking a breath, Mei pulled herself up the back of one of them, opening the trunk on the back and, finding it conveniently empty, climbed inside.

|| || ||

THOMAS They set off the next morning at a good pace, mostly walking in silence. It was still freezing, but at least their clothes had dried overnight and they had “borrowed” pelts from whoever’s house they had stayed in. As they walked, Tom strategized, glancing around the landscape, trying to determine if he recognized any landmarks. There was nothing though, just snow and snow and more snow. If they were in Fjerda, he had nothing to worry about.

If they were in Ravka...well, he would figure it out. He was a trained soldier.

“Do I get to know your name?” called the witch, he was sure teasing him had become her favorite pastime as they made their way to nowhere.

He did not turn around.

“Oh, come on. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Stop distracting me.”

“Oh, so you’re distracted by me,” Vixey cooed with a laugh.

The Fjerdan stopped in his tracks. His head turned towards her and he felt his heart squeeze in his chest. He was not distracted by her. She was doing that. Making him--making him...

“Stop that, witch.”

“Stop what?” she asked innocently, dancing a bit closer to him.

“Trying to seduce me.”

“Why--is it working?” she asked. “The poor, tortured Fjerdan falling for the little witch, hm?”

“Stop.” She had a lovely smile and a playful laugh. She was much different than any of the women in Fjerda, who were beautiful, but meek and quiet. They knew their place. She certainly did not.

She danced around him a bit, her fingers trailing across the back of his shoulders. “Or what?”

He lunged for her, but she danced away. Too quick. It made her laugh, however. Despite himself, he cracked a smile. She laughed again and rolled her fur off her shoulder.

“Stop it,” he said again, though less harshly.

“I don’t think I shall.” She danced another step away from him.

Crack.

The ice beneath her feet gave way and she screamed, flailing her arms out for purchase, hanging on as the ground fell away beneath her. In the next second, Tom was sliding across the snow, grabbing her by the forearms so hard that she almost bruised.

“Please, help--please,” she cried, panicked, as she tried to keep gripping at the shards of ice.

The Fjerdan’s blue eyes were stormy and for a moment--

He considered letting her go. It would solve his problem. The problem being his soft affection, growing warm every time he looked at her. It was poison anyway. So, why couldn’t he just let her go? Let her go. Let her go.

He pulled and she scrambled up and away from the ledge, panting roughly and reaching a shaky hand up to brush away her tears. “Th-thank you,” she told him as they both lay next to each other, catching their breath. He grunted and rolled away, getting up.

Why had he done that?

“Vixey,” she said after she had caught her breath.

He turned and looked at her, his eyebrows raised. Her name. She was giving him her name. Something about that stirred in him. A trust. Hers for him. His for her. There was a long pause as he wrestled with the feeling, getting to his feet slowly, feeling off kilter, dizzy. He held out a hand to help her up. “Tom.”

“Well, very nice to meet you, Tom,” she told him, rising to her feet.

Tom did not know if it was the same for him.

|| || ||

MEI The trunk opened. She had no idea how long they had traveled or whose carriage it was that she had hitched a ride in. All she knew was that her heart was pounding in her chest and as she had sat there, curled up in a ball, she had wondered if she had made the right choice. Though, it was hard to think clearly, as there was only relief of no longer being a prisoner. She would have to make her own way after this, though.

She was tumbled out into the afternoon sun, staring up at four strangers.

“What--who?”

“I believe I’ll be asking the questions,” said the man, leaning on his cane.

Another of the men had a gun pointed at her and the woman, shorter than all the rest, had a knife, glinting in the sun, though it was not raised, but was down by her side.

“Now, my friend here tells me you escaped from the Little Palace, why?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

The man turned his head to his companion and raised an eyebrow. The gun clicked back.

“My friend Simba here is an excellent shot,” he said casually. “So, either you tell us what we want to know or he shoots you in a way that means you won’t be able to escape.”

Maybe they don’t know who I am, Mei thought. Though, she was not a good liar.

“I didn’t want to be part of the army.”

“Mhm.” The man was unconvinced, looking down his nose at her.

“General Morey--he’s--he’s evil.”

The woman glanced up at the man, Mei saw her stance shift slightly. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“He’s the Darkling.”

“Lou--” the woman started, her voice tight with alarm.

The man held up a hand. “Fascinating. Well, we can keep you safe. If you just come with us.”

“Who are you?”

“It is best that we keep our identities to ourselves, don’t you agree?” Lou said.

“And if I don’t want to come with you?”

“I am afraid you don’t have much of a choice. The Darkling, as you say, is coming for you. He’s been on our tail all night. They know where you are. ”

From one cage to another, Mei thought sardonically and she felt the fire at the tips of her fingers. She raised her hand and a blinding light flashed out of her fingers. Scrambling up, she took off into the woods, tripping over herself as she ran. She could hear someone following her but she did not know who it was. The group she had just met--or the Darkling himself.

Sliding behind a large stump down at the bottom of the ravine, she hid against it, catching her breath. Not a few moments later, there was a crack and Mei whipped around to see--

“Candace!” she whispered in relief before throwing herself into the other woman’s arms. “How did you find me?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Are you upset with me?” Mei asked as she pulled away.

“What? No, never. Why would you think that?”

“You never wrote me.”

“You never wrote me,” Candace replied, her voice a harsh whisper.

“The Darkling,” Mei gasped, eyes wide.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, Candace,” she was still gripping her friend, “there is so much you have missed! The Darkling is General Morey. He’s trying--”

Suddenly, they were pulled apart. Mei screamed.

“Didn’t think you would get away from me for long did you?”

|| || ||

VIXEY It took several more days, but eventually, she and Tom made it to a little village with a pub that had spare rooms and a pubkeep who was willing to listen to their sob story. They were in Ravka. Her country. She was safe. Still, they had to be careful. Tom was not. They climbed the stairs to their room and she sat down on the bed at once.

“Oh, Saints, this is heaven.”

Tom stood stiffly by the window. “We cannot be here long. I should go.”

The words hung in the air and Vixey’s heart twisted in her chest. “You could stay. With me,” she ventured softly. He turned to look at her. First, in alarm, but then his features softened.

“I would be court martialed. I could never go back to Fjerda,” he told her.

“And I would be branded a traitor to Grisha.” She gave him a little smile. A shrug. As if this did not hurt her just to say. It did. Vixey had always loved the Grisha. The home she had made with them. They were familiar to her and comforting. They accepted her.

But Tom--

He wandered closer and sat down next to her on the bed. The silence continued to stretch, but his body was warm next to hers. Comforting. She had gotten used to his presence.

“Thank you for saving me,” she told him, placing her hand on his thigh.

Another moment passed and then he covered her hand with his. “You saved me as well.”

She smiled at him, catching his eyes. They leaned in--

“I-I’m hungry,” Tom said, pulling back with a blush.

“Brilliant,” Vixey laughed. “Let’s go eat.”

They went downstairs and sat at a table, ordering food. They were halfway through lunch when Tom gasped and choked.

“Tom?!”

As quickly as it had happened, he passed out and a man stepped around the corner. Another heartrender.

“Vixey. You could have done that yourself hours ago. We’ve been watching you.”

“I--”

“Your heart, it’s pounding.” The heartrender looked at Tom. “Is it fear? He is Fjerdan. He should die for his crimes.”

“Slaver!” Vixey shouted. She had overheard someone earlier talking about how they were looking for slavers to turn into the courts at Ketterdam for a reward. All she had to do was get them on a ship, then she would free Tom.

“Ey? And you’ll testify?”

“Yes, of course. Of course.”

The man gathered Tom up, still unconscious, while the heartrender boiled with anger.

Vixey followed them onto the ship and sat outside Tom’s cell until he stirred. She went to her knees, grabbing the bars. “Tom! Tom, I’m so--”

Tom groaned and looked around. “What happened?”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t--”

Tom came to the bars as well, confusing swimming in his blue eyes. “You. You tricked me.”

“No, I-I--let me explain.”

Tom grabbed her throat, holding it tight. In a panic, Vixey grabbed his wrist, feeling his beating heart and slowed it down gently, until he passed out again and she careened backwards, coughing and sobbing. Fleeing to the top of the ship, she told herself she would gather her strength and figure out a way to free him before approaching him again. She didn’t think she could take seeing the hatred in his eyes again. It would break her heart.

|| || ||

GEM The Sun Summoner had proved more resourceful than he had thought she would be, but he had her in his clutches now. On the skiv, moving between the Fold, he would use her powers to push it outwards, destroy their opposition and begin to take over what was rightfully theirs. The Grisha deserved to be at the top of the food chain. They should not live in fear. They should not be persecuted. He would make sure of it. And Mei--

She would learn to understand.

They moved quickly through the fold with Mei’s light guiding them. When it became time, he grabbed her hand, channeling her magic into his own and using the force to push the dark shadows of the Fold outwards. Screams erupted from the town just on the other side of the Fold.

“What are you doing?!” Mei tried to wretch away from him, but she couldn’t.

From the second deck, a knife appeared, flinging through the air, lodging itself in his chest. He barely felt the pain. It did distract him, however, and Mei too, their light closing in. He searched for the person who threw it, but they had already disappeared. Grabbing the hilt, he pulled it from his chest with a laugh, dropping it to the floor.

“It will take more than that to heal me.”

There were shouts, fighting had broken out on the skiv. The monsters from above swooped down and were picking people off one by one. There was the sound of gunfire and people shouting. But Gem was focused on Mei.

“You better concentrate, or we will all die,” he hissed at her.

“No, only you will.” She shoved the knife into his ribcage. She must have grabbed it off the ground. He stumbled backwards. A blur of red hair came out of nowhere and tackled him back with a shout. They both fell off the boat, smacking hard into the ground.

Candace gave a shout and stabbed him again and again.

[Another fight scene I’m not describing it, but it is hilarious to think about right.]

Eventually, he stumbled off into the darkness, consumed once more by that which he had created...

|| || ||

TOULOUSE Well, that had been something.

Clearly, the Sun Summoner was not the cheap party tricks that he had thought. And despite what everyone else might think, the Darkling was not vanquished. Lou had a feeling about that. He also did not wish to dally any longer than they already had. As they walked, he kept eying Mei. Seeing the millions of kruge they would get for her capture. His hand twitched to crack her over the skull, but something stayed him. He wasn’t sure what.

He had no cards in the battle between good and evil. People like him, the Bastard of the Barrel, lived in between those definitions. And that was where he was most comfortable. If the world went to shit, he would still find a way to survive. That was what he did. What they did. Him, Belle, Simba.

They survived.

The boat they had chartered would take them back to Kerch’s harbour and then on to Ketterdam and the Barrel. Before they boarded, Mei turned to him, pulling the large necklace she had been wearing off and handing it over to him.

He held out a gloved hand to accept it. This was priceless piece, though in Ketterdam, it would probably fetch a hefty sum. Enough to free Belle, at the very least. He glanced at his shadow before looking back at Mei, who was regarding him with a surprisingly shrewd look.

“Is this enough to keep you quiet?”

Lou weighed it in his hand, as if he was considering, but then he tucked it in his pocket and reluctantly held out a hand for her to shake. He held her hand lightly, even though his glove he could feel the warmth, but he just regarded her lightly. “The deal is the deal.”

Mei nodded. “Very good.” She turned to Belle. “Thank you, without you--”

Belle put a hand to her chest. “You have nothing to thank me for, Sankta Mei,” she said, bowing slightly. “Be well and good luck.”

Mei smiled at her, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

They all moved onto the boat, Candace pulling her cloak over her red hair. The pair blended into the crowd. Lou angled towards the other end of the boat, taking a seat on a crate and stretching out his leg.

“What’s the plan now, boss?” Simba asked, sprawling out next to him.

“Are we going home?” ventured Danny.

“Yes. And we are going to get our money.”

“How?” Belle asked as she perched on the railing of the ship, her foot near his shoulder.

He looked up at her, a smirk on his lips. “I have an idea, but we are going to need a Heartrender.”

A woman with dark, silky hair, sitting a few feet away, turned towards them, her head tilted. It looked as if she had been crying. Not that Lou cared. Crying was a waste of time.

“I think I can help with that,” she told him, wiping her tears.

#swynwrimo #bdrpwrimo2021 #bdrpwrimotina #bdrpwrimotina2021 #into the grishaverse #this is unhinged #and stupid #and i had fun lmao

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