#floribeth de la vega

[the-melting-world]

Area on the Arcana Map: Emerald Sea coastal region northeast of Nopal

How I refer to the region in my fics: Esmeralda

Geographic Inspo: The Philippines

Photography of the People: an elegant woman sporting her bora’t saya, a transcendent staple of both traditional and influential Filipino fashion (far right). Learn more here!

OC Origins: Sascha, Solo, Floribeth (The De La Vegas immigrated from here to Vesuvia not long before the twins were born)

#mapthearcana #arcana moodboards #casa vega is very much inspired by the estates in esmeralda #the de la vegas #solo de la vega #sascha del la vega #floribeth de la vega #world building

[topcostarica]

Ovsicori: El Poás se ha mantenido tranquilo

By Jacqueline Otey Esta mañana se registraron tres pequeños sismos en los alrededores del volcán Poás. Así lo afirmó Floribeth Vega, vulcanóloga del Observatorio Sismológico Nacional. Sin embargo, aseguró que “no se ha observado trémor ni actividad. Los compañeros guardaparques tampoco han dado a conocer hoy algún tipo de erupción“. La experta señaló que “los sismos fueron en Poasito, no […] …read more      

Noticias de Costa Rica en Top Costa Rica - - Todas las noticias de Costa Rica en un Solo Lugar.

[the-melting-world]

Just Pray | Nine

art by @ aircane

~ In which a clever gunslinger attends her last supper…

Sun Bai’s Masterlist Just Pray Masterlist cw: guns, wounds, domestic violence, Floribeth being on her worst behavior

~ 2k words

****

Sascha showed up forty-five minutes late to dinner on purpose. She knew that Floribeth was expecting her. Whatever guests were in town that night, the matriarch would have had them dismissed.

Sascha’s suspicions were confirmed when she entered the dining hall and approached a mostly empty table. She was, however, surprised to see Solo. He was sitting just to the right of Floribeth, who sat at the head of the table.

Solo’s features betrayed his worry. He was confused, Sascha could tell. Floribeth, on the other hand, looked completely serene, but ready for whatever Sascha was bringing to the table that night.

“It’s rude to call in on short notice and then show up late, Sascha. I taught you better than that.”

Sascha wordlessly took a seat beside her brother.

“Hello, Solo,” she sighed, helping herself to a deep drink of water.

“Sasch,” he greeted tentatively, patting his pearl-laden fingers against his sister’s knee. Sascha felt his charms creep into her bones, slowly taking the edge away.

“Solomon Honore, I know you aren’t performing magic at my table,” Floribeth said icily.

Solo snatched his hand back as if struck. “No, nanang. I was just–”

“And Sascha, if you don’t take that filth off your head–” Floribeth glared at the black wide-brimmed hat that Sascha came in with.

Sascha looked at her pointedly as she cut into her steak without making any indication that she would remove the hat.

Beth’s sneer deepened. “Solomon. Go to your room. Your sister and I have some things we need to discuss.”

Sascha swallowed her forkful of meat and said casually, “No Solo, stay awhile. Listen to the story of how our little mother bribed a couple of actors to intimidate and coerce me into handing over my shop.”

Solo blinked several times before looking back at Floribeth. “Nanang?”

Beth threw down her napkin. Her features were steady but there was something keenly venomous in her honey golden eyes.

“Stop exaggerating, Sascha. They were only supposed to scare you.” Then she gave a weary sigh, picked up the napkin and folded it neatly. “Solo, sweetheart. Go to your room. Now.”

Sascha didn’t blame Solo for doing as he was told. He shot her a look on his way out. It was one that she knew very well back from when they were children – I’m going, but I won’t be far.

It made Sascha breathe easier to know that after everything, Solo was still willing to push the envelope with Floribeth. He would stay close by in case Sascha needed him.

But truth be told, Sascha didn’t know how this was going to play out.

Once Solo was out of sight, Florbith started talking fast.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, Sascha. You’re waiting around for that pirate.”

Sascha almost forgot to breathe. Is that what this was about? She hoped she didn’t look as horrified as she felt when she stared wide-eyed at her mother and asked, “How do you know about Sun Bai?”

“My contemporaries and competitors have seen you two around the city. It’s not uncommon for you to date your clients, so I didn’t think anything of it at first. But apparently that man is no client. He’s a mercenary with a record so messy it’s hardly discernible from his targets’. I’ve heard that he returns to Vesuvia every few months and he’s clearly spoiling you–”

“You know what?” Sascha stood up. “Forget I asked. It’s none of your business and you need to get out of my personal life.”

Floribeth, of course, spewed her same justification. That this was her business and whether Sascha liked it or not, she was still a part of this family. She carried the Vega name around with her and that meant something.

“You’re hurting the De La Vega image by galvanizing with a,” Beth made a graceless gesture. “… a gangster.”

Sascha’s eyes were burning now. She tried to keep her voice from trembling. “Nanay, You’ve never even met him.”

It was too much. Sascha took off. She headed up the stairs, towards Solo’s room. She would spend the night with him, recover as much as she could. Then she would leave. Forever. She had the Nautilus now.

But Floribeth was hot on Sascha’s heels.

“I don’t have to meet him. He’s trash, Sascha.”

The two of them marched up the main spiral staircase. Tears were streaming down Sascha’s face. She felt too foolish and pathetic to even register her anger.

“You don’t know him!”

“He’s a drifter?” Beth's words came out softly as they both reached the top of the stairs. “Gets you nice things and treats you like you’re the only woman in the world when he’s there?”

Sascha paused.

Behind her, Beth kept going. “He leans on you. And when he confides in you, he lets you see his whole heart?”

Finally, Sascha turned to face her mother. She did not expect to see so much understanding emanating from Beth’s keen golden gaze.

The elderly woman sighed. “But he won’t stay. He won’t sit still. Not for marriage or for family. He only thinks of adventure and freedom. Never once does he consider the possibilities. He cannot be convinced to stay and build a family – the adventure of a lifetime in its own right.”

Sascha dragged her knuckles over the wet parts of her face. “Nanay, please.”

Floribeth shook her head. “Trust me, Sascha. I know more than you think. I’ve wasted many years waiting around for a rolling stone. You’ll only get yourself hurt.”

Sascha grabbed the railing and shouted, “Stop making my life about you and Honore! Haven’t you realized that it doesn’t work on me!”

She tried to run away, but Floribeth surged forward and grabbed the thicker curls at the nape of her neck. They wrestled awkwardly. Sascha struggled to keep her anger in check as she tried to disengage herself without hurting her mother.

Floribeth, however, wasn’t holding back. She had both fists in Sascha’s hair now. As she knocked off her hat and tried to yank her down to her knees, she hissed, “I don’t believe for one second that I raised a daughter that would leave her family. And for what? He’s a thug, Sascha!”

“You can’t stop me!” Sascha was screaming now. “I’d do anything for him!” Then very quietly, she gasped, “I love him, nanay.”

“No you don’t!” Floribeth snarled in Esmeraldi.

Sascha cried back, “I swear on my life. I do love him!”

Then the oculist tore herself free and stumbled onto the sandstone tiles. She braced herself with both hands and wept.

Sascha begged the gods to lend her mother some shred of maternal softness. Just this once!

“I love him, nanang,” she repeated between sobs.

At first all Sascha could see were her mother’s heels. She didn’t resist when Floribeth lifted her head up by the chin and asked. “You love him? More than you love your own family?”

Sascha didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

This wasn’t fair. How dare she make Sascha choose when she had done nothing but twist the meaning of family all these years!

Sascha’s lip trembled in both shame and defiance. She refused to give Beth an answer.

“No?” Floribeth dug her nails into Sascha’s face. “Then you’re a fucking whore just like your father!”

Before Beth’s nails could break her daughter’s skin, Sascha slipped away and wrenched herself to her feet. Mother and daughter began to claw at each other’s faces.

Neither of them heard the frantic shuffle of slippers in their direction.

“Nanang! What are you doing? Stop it!”

Floribeth barked, “Stay out of this, Solomon! Go back to your room!”

But Solo was deep in the knot now. The three of them stumbled and shrieked backwards until they all lost their footing and went hurtling down the staircase.

Floribeth held onto Sascha the whole ride down. Solo clung to both of them, screaming the loudest. Sascha held her breath, too shocked to do anything but avoid banging her head or crushing Solo.

When the three of them tumbled off of the last stair, Sascha checked herself first before reaching out with her magic to make sure no one’s organs had been ruptured.

Floribeth groaned as she rolled over. Her lip was split, but other than that, she was fine. Beth propped herself onto her elbows and spat, “If Solo is hurt, it’ll be your fault!”

That’s enough!

Sascha uncovered her gun from her jacket pocket. She moved swiftly, shoving her hand over Beth’s mouth. The old woman grunted as her back hit the iron railing. Sascha held her mother there and dug the gun barrel into her thigh.

“Shut up!” The gunslinger cocked the hammer. “Shut. Up.”

Beth’s eyes went from incredulous to furious. She bit down hard on her daughter’s hand, drawing blood faster than expected.

Sascha cried out and pulled the trigger.

Floribeth’s scream was muffled by Sascha’s hand. Sascha tried to pull away, but Beth only dug her teeth in.

Solo’s voice was hollering in the background. Beth was bleeding onto the tiles and not giving up. Sascha was trapped.

She was so tired of being trapped.

So she pulled the trigger again.

.

.

.

Sascha cradled her hand against her abdomen as she jogged through the rain across the pool yard, chanting instinctively in a dead language in order to stitch her skin back together.

The Nautilus. She needed to get to the Nautilus.

Someone was following across the property, but this time it wasn’t Beth. It was Solo.

He limped in her wake and shouted, “Sasch! Sascha, wait!”

Sascha listened to her sibling. She turned around and waved her gun helplessly at the house in the background.

“I can’t do this anymore, Solo. I tried to put distance between us. I did my best. But she doesn’t want me to be a part of this family unless she owns me.”

Floribeth was still inside, wounded but she wouldn’t bleed out. Sascha had made sure of it.

Solo came closer, pushing his soaked blue hair out of his eyes. Despite everything that happened, he looked down at his sister with nothing but fondness and concern.

“Sascha. You’re leaving? You’re really leaving this time.”

Sascha stored her gun away and held out her hand.

“Come with me.”

Solo reached for her other hand — the partially injured one — and held it both of his. He shook his head. “You know I can’t.”

Sascha’s gaze dropped to the ground. Of course she knew. Solo’s roots ran too deep in this family. And Beth knew it too.

“Come here,” Solo whispered softly as he brought Sascha in. Despite his limp, he hugged her with a fierceness that he usually kept hidden and scattered in the line of his ancestral pearls. Sascha supported most of his weight, like she had so many times before.

“Did I hear you correctly when I was eavesdropping on you and nanang? That man I found sleeping in your bed back when you first got the shop – the one with the long white hair… you’re in love with him?”

Sascha nodded against his chest.

Solo pulled back and hummed in celebration. His tears looked like river pearls against the rain.

“Well then you have to go. Not because of Beth.” He worked his cool pearls into the wounds in Sascha’s hand as he drew it up to his face. “But for love.”

Solo dropped a fond kiss to her knuckles while massaging in the pearls and mixing it with Sascha’s healing magic. The pain dissolved and the rain didn’t feel as cold.

Sascha squeezed Solo’s scarred hand. “This won’t be the last time you see me. I’ll send a way to contact me.”

Solo grinned. “I’ll be at my window, waiting for the messenger bird. Just don’t send an ugly one.” He patted the back of Sascha’s hand before letting go.

For the first time that night, Sascha smiled. “I love you, Sol.”

“Love you too, Sasch.” He said earnestly. “If you ever come back, know that I will be here for you. Always.”

Solo hugged his sister one last time before watching her run off into the rain.

****

~ The Nautilus ~

Sascha settled into the pilot’s seat of her new home. The only thing that she brought with her from the shop was the chest of glasses that Ozy had gifted her.

Sascha took out a set of frames and put them on. Combined with the floodlights illuminating the sandy bottom of the sea floor, the frames lended Sascha a sharper view.

She saw squid, pale as the moon, coasting along the bottom. The moonlit cephalopods made her think of Sun Bai’s hair and the way his gray irises became shards in the night. It reminded her of their first date almost two years ago and all of the interactions scattered in between.

Sascha pulled down the main lever, causing the great vessel to hum to life. Then she put a lock on the school of squid and instructed the Nautilus to follow them out of the harbor and away from the shores of Vesuvia.

#the arcana #sascha the gunslinger #solo the seamstress #floribeth de la vega #the nautilus collection #coco's pirates #my writing

[the-melting-world]

Area on the Arcana map: The Catclaw Desert

How I refer to the region in my fics: The Catclaw

Geographic Inspo: Sonoran Desert (spans across Mexico, California, and Arizona)

Photography of the People: children of the Sinaloa Mayo-Yore community, presumably preparing to become Sinaloa Mayo healers (bottom right). Learn more here!

OC Origins: Sascha, Solo, Floribeth (Specifically their ancestors and extended family branching from the maternal line of the De La Vegas)

#mapthearcana #the de la vegas #arcana moodboards #floribeth de la vega #sascha del la vega #solo de la vega #world building

[the-melting-world]

I just want to ask, since I'm making Muriel's route (a re-write) canon for my OCs, how do the De La Vegas, particularly Floribeth, react to the event's of his route?

Lucio coming back during the masquerade.

The city going to hell in a handbasket with some shops catching on fire.

Evacuating to Muriel's (or the Scourge if they attended his matches) corner of the forest if something happened to the Bridal shop.

To Lucio and Muriel's one on one final battle at the Colosseum.

Thank you, Ash! Sorry it took me so long to respond to this. These are really good questions! I'm going to focus on Floribeth because to be honest, whoever is living in Casa Vega at the time would just go along with however she directed the family in response to the situation.

~

Floribeth is definitely the type to support whoever is in power or has the best chances of seizing power from the current one holding the position. Even if she didn't necessarily like or respect Lucio, she would have supported him as Count during his time. Him returning to the masquerade would definitely give her pause. She wouldn't make her mind up about whether or not to support him right away. Rather she would wait and see how things played out on Nadia's end before setting up her own alliances.

Beth would have attended the gladiator matches in the past, bringing along her young eskrimador students to teach them lessons on the necessity of brutality and ferocity.

For Lucio and Muriel's final match, Beth would try to whip together some kind of betting campaign. No matter who wins, she wants to see how much pocket money she can get out of it.

Personally, I think Floribeth would show the most support for Muriel because she'd be impressed with his transformation from gladiator to standing up to his oppressor and trying to take the city back from him. Once again, this support isn't coming from anywhere else other than her the-strong-shall-overcome-the-weak-and-the-weak-absolutely-deserve-it mentality.

Floribeth would have mixed emotions about the fires. Of course she doesn't want her business and family property to burn up, but she would enjoy watching her neighbors and competitors fall to ruin. I can just imagine her lounging on one of Casa Vega's terraces, sipping her coffee and looking out over the channels while her competitor's practices went up in flames. She, of course, would send a care package the next day with a very "In Our Hearts and Prayers" message to maintain those connections regardless. You know, keep your enemies close and all that.

If she had to evacuate, Beth would definitely cooperate. She would direct her bridal team to gather and bring along as many raw materials as possible to the woods. She'd set up a committee tent that would distribute materials and clothing to those who needed it. Since it's the middle of a crisis, Beth wouldn't ask for anything in return, but she would keep very detailed records of all who borrowed from her so that she could call in favors later when things returned back to normal. This is mostly for the higher bureaucrats and wealthy Vesuvian families who have the means to waive property taxes or any other taxes in order to maximize her business profits. With that being said, Beth knows that there is no guarantee that any of these people would feel compelled to return her kindness during the evacuation. Still, she keeps her records regardless and doesn't rule anything out.

#she's a businesswoman you see #this is floribeth on her best behavior #my asks #floribeth de la vega #muriel of the kokhuri #the de la vegas

[the-melting-world]

Previews from the next chapter of Just Pray:

#look it wasn't intentional #but these are exact quotes #it’s about the growing pains #and in sascha's case it's also about the guns #bard shit #sascha de la vega #floribeth de la vega #sun bai

[the-melting-world]

Just Pray | Six

art by @ aircane

~ In which a clever oculist meets a fellow lens crafter…

Sun Bai’s Masterlist Just Pray Masterlist cw: none

~ 1.7k words

While Sun Bai informs Adrenaline of his plans to convert to piracy, Sascha de la Vega is on the other side of the continent, trying to keep her business afloat while she waits for Bai to return…

Sascha de la Vega wasn’t typically one to lose track of time with a customer, but then again, there was something atypical about the grinning, energetic man who had entered her shop.

When he first came in and rested a small chest full of antique lenses on the checkout counter, Sascha tried to turn him away.

“Sir, we don’t take or sell consignment here.”

Instead of retreating, the man simply asked her why that was. And when she told him the truth – Because I craft all of the lenses myself – the strange hazel-eyed man cheerfully responded with, “Really? I made all of these too!” He patted the chest for emphasis.

Under the countertop, Sascha idly rotated one of the many gemstone-infused rings Bai had given her. A fellow craftsperson? Well now that was too interesting to ignore.

Thankfully, Sascha didn’t have any patients scheduled to come in until the afternoon. She spent the morning poring over the customer’s – Ozy he later told her – wares and picking his brain about the unconventional materials he employed.

“Is this set made out of… limestone?” Sascha asked as she held up another odd pair of frames. Ozy nodded from across the room where he was in the middle of studying one of Sascha’s displays.

“I ran out of baleen, so I had to resort to dehydrated corals.”

Sascha slowly set down the frames.

Baleen. Calcium carbonate. Fossilized corals.

These were all materials that came from the ocean. Sascha took advantage of Ozy’s occupied state to study him some more. His garments and the trinkets that gave his locs a musical quality left the impression that he had been many places. Though Ozy’s accent was not quite as robust as Sascha’s father, for whatever reason, his voice still made her think of the islands trickling off the coast of Prakra.

The oculist didn’t comment on it.

“Your frames are fascinating, Ozy, but I can’t buy this collection from you,” Sascha admitted with a sigh. Ozy straightened up and turned, fixing her with a curious expression.

Sascha started to place the eclectic frames back inside the chest. “They’re too delicate for resale.” She closed the chest, looking somewhat regretfully at the strange teal glyphs swirling over the locks. “My customers would only ruin them. And they’re too priceless for that.”

“In that case, I’ll donate them to you. That way you can study them all you want. Show them off in your window. I trust that you’ll honor their value.”

Sascha looked up suddenly to see the tall man standing directly before her now. Shaking her head, Sascha gently pushed the chest in his direction. “There are plenty of museums in the Temple District that would purchase these. Or you could auction them off and earn yourself a small fortune.”

She kept pushing the chest towards him, but Ozy interrupted its journey by resting his hand over the shell. “I don’t need any money. I want you to have them, Miss Vega. You would make the best home for them. I know that now.”

Sascha opened her mouth to thank Ozy when she suddenly realized that someone else was patiently waiting for her to finish up. And that someone happened to be her mother.

Sascha displayed no outward reaction to the cold, honeyed gaze of Floribeth de la Vega. The oculist brought her voice a little lower and said, “I’ll do my best.”

She and Ozy shared a smile. Then he thanked her for helping him declutter his library. Sascha asked him if that was where he constructed the glasses. When he told her yes, she said, “I’d like to see this library sometime. Before you get rid of any other interesting artifacts.”

Ozy seemed delighted by the idea. They exchanged contacts and tossed around a tentative date before Ozy finally made his way out of the shop.

Sascha carefully stored the ancient chest away while Floribeth took her time approaching the desk.

“Nice to see you’re still making yourself available,” Beth greeted coolly, her nails coming to rapt against the hard surface where the chest had once been.

Sascha didn’t rise to her mother’s presumptuous observations. By now she was used to it.

“How’s business?” Sascha asked.

It was a safe topic. One in which Beth came as close as she was capable to treating her daughter as an equal.

The elderly woman folded her hands around the edges of her stiff designer purse and said, “You are missed.”

Sascha’s eyes threatened to roll. It had almost been two years since she left Vega Bridal and Floribeth still made the effort every now and then to show up at her daughter’s shop and attempt to guilt her into returning to the family business.

“That’s why I look forward to supper with you all on Sundays. It’s the highlight of my week.”

Sascha wasn’t lying. Sundays were the only times she could connect with her whole family again. She spent every day prior craving that comfortable warmth only found in her sibling, Solo, her closest cousins, Jaslene and April, and any other extended family that happened to be in town.

Floribeth, apparently, knew this to be true as well.

“It can’t be easy,” Beth began as she drifted around the edge of the counter to inspect Sascha’s cabinets and displays on the other side, “keeping this place afloat in the wealthiest ring of the city.”

It wasn’t.

“I have a strong clientele base,” Sascha said, stating facts, giving nothing away.

By now, Floribeth had wandered into Sascha’s territory behind the counter and was currently opening an errant drawer. “You know if you were still with us, you – gods have mercy on the living!”

Beth almost never swore in Esmeraldi, so it was enough to make Sascha abandon her post to see what had happened. The oculist experienced a spell of lightheadedness when she saw her mother pinching the hand of a revolver and dangling it out before her as if it were likely to bite.

“Sascha, what in the name of our ancestors is this?”

The oculist rushed up to Floribeth and steered her out of eyeshot of the main space before yanking the revolver out of her grasp and filing it away in the interior pocket of her own jacket.

In Esmeraldi, Sascha muttered, “It’s a gun, mother.”

Floribeth bristled. “For. What.”

Sascha was already back at the cabinets, discreetly returning the weapon to its home.

“For shooting people,” she answered plainly. She could already hear Floribeth thinking back to the last night Sascha spent at Casa Vega when they had their explosive argument over dinner. Beth had made some comment about Sascha being bound to draw in burglars if she opened up a shop. Sascha had responded with a radical solution. Clearly, Floribeth hadn’t believed Sascha back then and she was still having a hard time processing it now.

“I hope you realize when you get married that you won’t need that sort of thing around.”

Sascha fingers itched to open the drawer back up.

“Nanay, I will see you on Sunday for supper.” Sascha said it through a partially clenched jaw. From the way Floribeth sighed, she was not going to push the envelope with her daughter that day. Whatever case she had planned to make to persuade Sascha to return to Casa Vega would be saved for another day.

“I’ll say hello to Solomon for you.”

Sascha let go of a grateful exhale. “Thank you.”

Later that evening, when Sascha had closed down the shop, instead of hopping in the shower, she decided to settle on a new home for her revolver. She chose the water closet, to which she also relocated one of the small end tables from the main floor.

Sascha didn’t leave the closet right away. She perched herself on the table and easily slipped into the ritual of unloading and reloading the chamber of the gun. She had gotten pretty fast at it with her dominant hand and she wasn’t too far behind with the other.

Family dinners and this were the only things that made the wait in between Sun Bai’s visits bearable. The last time the pirate was in her shop, he had offered her a spot on a ship that he didn’t yet possess. He had left promising that he would get one. A crew too.

All Sascha could do was wait and prepare.

She turned the gun over in her hands, wishing it was shaped like the longer, more ornate ones that she spotted in the shops whenever she passed them by. She wished that she had the funds to purchase two of them. One for each of her hands.

She wished Bai would hurry up.

“Hell-ooo! Anyone home?”

Sascha wondered if she had forgotten to flip the sign out front to Closed as she shoved the revolver in the small compartment and went to inform the customer of her hours.

But the individuals that had rolled nine deep into her shop were not customers.

At the moment, Sascha didn’t have a name for them. They carried concealed weapons, that much she figured out. They started talking shortly after she entered the room, wanting to know about her pedigree. When Sascha revealed that she didn’t hail from a legacy of one of the historical Vesuvian families, but rather from a scattered line of dressmakers and healers tracing all the way back hundreds of miles to the Catclaw Desert, the strangers then wanted to know the numbers of her assets.

“It’s for interest,” the leader explained. “You pay. We collect. Did no one tell you?”

Things had been hard for Sascha, but since opening her shop, she had never faced conflict of this sort.

“No. And I’ve been running my business for a year and a half,” she confessed, her throat dry. She wasn’t about to beg them to leave her alone. That would only make things worse.

“Guess you slipped under our radar,” the leader said with a chilling, gap-toothed smile. “We’ll be back in one fortnight, Miss Vega.”

They knew she wouldn’t have the money by then. It was impossible.

Regardless, Sascha was relieved to watch them go, even as they casually overturned one of her rotating displays on their way out.

Once again, her fingers twitched, seeking the comfort of her only, cheaply made revolver.

#the arcana #sascha the gunslinger #ozy the grey mage #floribeth de la vega #my writing #the nautilus collection

[the-melting-world]

Jezebel | Solo de la Vega

This exists because @lucigucci asked for it and I couldn't say no. Sorry it took me so long! It's basically a background/personality/daily life montage for Sascha's brother, Solo. I was trying to figure out how to work some of his experiences into Sascha's story, so this is exactly what he needed!

This fic pairs well with Sascha's "Don't Call Me Daughter" miniseries!

Music: "Jezebel" by Sade

cw: there is some nested lemony content 🍋 (some choking), emotional abuse, just very bad parenting in general

~ 2.6k words

***

~ Twenty-six years ago ~

Solo and Sascha hid. They were close enough to hear the screams and the dishes shattering.

“Get out of my house!”

“I want to see my children. Please–”

“I said, GET OUT!”

And on and on it went.

Shortly after Honore stopped making his infrequent trips to Casa Vega, the Vega twins learned to never ask about him. Instead, they protected the few mementos they had of Honore and remembered him quietly, out from under the eyes of their mother…

***

~ Present Day ~

“Nanang, why would I make any of this up?”

Solo had no more fire left in him to spat with Floribeth. He just wanted to close his eyes and become unconscious to the pain settling into his bones. But his mother wouldn’t leave. Despite her petite frame, she haunted the foot of his bed like an overfed wraith.

“You were in bed all day yesterday, Solomon. How is it that you had enough energy to traipse the town with your sister this morning, but you couldn’t even pull your weight in this negotiation? Do you plan to leave April without any assistance this afternoon as well?”

Solo’s eyes smarted as he rolled onto his side and tried to hide his head under the blankets.

“You were there. You saw how that man didn’t touch any of the swatches I brought. My charms were in those swatches.”

Beth’s response came out clipped and dismissive. “So what?”

Great, Solo groaned internally, today she wants to play dumb about how my magic works.

Solo had tried to explain this to Beth before. Why couldn’t her sharp mind sense his meaning? Why did she have to make every conversation about his magic so taboo?

“Nanang, please understand…it is… easier for me when the clients touch–”

But she cut him off. “Solo, stop. You’re whining about your condition again. For all of your devotion to our practice, you forget sometimes how spoiled you’ve become. I blame myself for that. Get your rest. I’ll fetch Sascha. But you’re to be present for April by this afternoon. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Part of him wished he hadn’t agreed, but it was the only way to get her to leave. When she finally did, Solo wanted nothing more than to blackout and let his body recover the old fashioned way until Sascha administered some relief for his pain. But all he could think about was Floribeth and how guilty she had made him feel over the years.

Even though he had nothing but devote his entire body and heart to her business.

Whenever Beth became upset or disappointed with him like this, it took him back to listening to her and Honore argue. For some reason, Solo couldn’t shake off the feeling that Beth had wanted those fights to escalate between herself and the father of her children.

“Beth. Look at what you’ve done to him. By the gods, look at his hands! Every time I come back, they’re swollen or bleeding. This isn’t right.”

“Stop being melodramatic, Honore. Solomon picked up sewing faster than Sascha and all of his cousins combined. We don’t let talent go unhoned in this family.”

"He is just a child!"

"He will heal! His hands will form calluses in time and then he won’t be able to feel it anymore. The pain is only temporary. You really are an idiot."

"Let me at least take Sascha with me. You’re always complaining about her. She’ll be cared for. Happy for once–"

"You’re not taking her anywhere. Now go away."

When Solo opened his eyes again, Sascha was at his side.

***

Later that week...

Solo was where he was the most comfortable – in his dressing room, sewing a project by hand. He was alone until someone walked in. Solo recognized the newcomer almost immediately. Basil Jebel-something or other. He was an usher for a friend from what sounded like a collegiate past. Today Basil was there for alteration, without the entourage of the rest of the groom’s party.

“You came alone this time, Mister…”

“Jebeles.” His delivery was tired, but not unkind.

Solo, who was stretched out on his divan, looked up briefly from his work. “Yes, now I remember. We didn’t have your size. And we still don't, unfortunately.”

Basil made a face as he slapped his gut. “Figures.” Then he mumbled something blunt and self-deprecating.

By now, Solo was rising to his feet and warming his pearls over his knuckles.

“Please. You have a nice figure, Mr. Jebeles.” He came around behind the man, who smelled a lot like the inside of a tavern, and eyeballed his measurements with the help of his long string of pearls.

“And not all is lost. We may not have your size, but that’s why I wanted you to come back. For a closer look at what we’re working with–” Solo let his pearls slide down Basil’s frame before pulling them a little taut under his abdomen. Then he whispered, “We can easily correct the garment for the occasion.”

Not long after Solo finished up and memorized all of Basil’s measurements, he checked to see how the client was responding to his charms.

By the way Basil had dropped his dry humor and focused more on the path Solo’s hands took, the seamstress would have to say that he was responding very well.

Better than he expected in fact.

So well that Basil stayed afterward. They talked. Solo had one of the attendants bring them something to drink. Basil, it turned out, was quite easy to keep talking to and getting to know.

Very soon Basil’s back was against the floral wallpaper, his hands above his head, grasping weakly at nothing. His wrists strained against a makeshift binding out of Solo’s seemingly endless yards of freshwater pearls.

“Solo.” The barhand breathed. His head only grew dizzier against the dressmaker’s slow, lingering touches. Solo’s lips found his again with a rough tenderness. His hands roamed, dragging his pearls with him under Basil’s tunic, past his fly. The barhand turned hard in Solo’s grasp.

“Solo — ngh.”

There were no words to describe the seamstress’ calloused, dimpled touch.

“Mr. Jebeles, please relax,” Solo said, sneaking his tongue along the seam of Basil’s mouth. “Excitement breeds excitement. Keep squirming and calling on me and I’ll soil my nice linens for sure.”

“Gods. Slow down then! Perhaps we could both last longer if you unwrap those fucking pearls from around my cock—“

The bindings drifted up around his neck. “Oh? You mean these pearls? Shall we do something else with them?”

Basil locked onto the uneven, iridescent orbs. “Do you take those with you everywhere?”

Solo’s smirk was as soft as his question. “What do you wish to know?”

Basil suddenly felt very stupid for trying to initiate a conversation right then. He wished he could take it back and just quietly let the seamstress take him apart.

Solo’s smirk deepened as he read the meaning in Basil’s hesitation.

“Fine. We don’t need to go into any details until afterwards. Just try not to choke while I’m sucking you off. Simple enough?” Solo dropped to his knees without waiting for an answer, pulling his pearls taut around the client’s neck on his descent.

It wasn’t that strange for Floribeth, head of Vega Bridal, to be passing by Solo’s dressing room as he escorted his latest client out. It was, however, not like her to pause and study the poorly concealed familiarity between her son and the client who smelled like cheap booze and was clean shaven all but for those ungodly sideburns.

Solo saw the man out and joined his mother for a debriefing while they traveled to the main house. She noticed how easily he kept up with her and the slight bounce in his step as he walked.

Solo. Sascha.

Her children always needed reminding of what was what. When and how. That life didn’t give them joy without a little sacrifice. That no goodness came without consequence.

Floribeth knew that it was her duty to consistently remind them.

“Solo, honey,” the matriarch began, depriving her voice of as much edge as she could bear, “you know I don’t care one way or the other of the company you keep in your space. In fact, I encourage it. It’s good for business.”

Solo managed a tight smile. “So you’ve told me in the past, nanay.”

Beth chose to ignore how Solo reverted to the more formal way to address her. The way Sascha always did unless she was throwing a tantrum.

“Well, listen closely to me because I’ve never told you what I’m about to tell you now.”

She felt better once the spirit left Solo’s gait. She finally had his attention.

Eyes forward and heels clacking briskly against the sandy tiles, Floribeth began, “You know I don’t expect you to dedicate any energy to finding a suitable partner or more to marry. Unless that’s what you want. But since you’re at that age, I’ll just say a few things.”

Solo honestly had no idea where this was going. It was true that Floribeth was very diligent about avoiding the topic of a potential marriage in Solo’s future. Thanks to his condition and the value of his magic to the business, he had been excused from much of the pressure that came down on young de la Vegas to grow and expand the family as quickly as possible.

Floribeth carried on. “Your father would have never so much as caught my eye if it hadn’t been for those damnable charms. Their existence made me question everything we had…”

Solo did not expect to hear the slip, if ever so slight, of sadness in his mother’s tone. She was quick to recover from it.

“So one can assume that even with all of your charisma, in the end, it could never yield a proper marriage. Perhaps you could get someone to love you, but it wouldn’t be true love, Solo. And it wouldn’t be fair to the other person. You can never forget that. Eventually your charms will wear off and they will suffer in some way or another. You’re smart, Solomon. I’m sure you’ve figured all this out by now.”

Solo’s lip quivered.

“Yes, nanang.”

He managed to keep his voice from shaking.

“That makes a lot of sense now that you point it out. Thank you.”

He didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up.

***

Solo felt stupid and selfish for running to Sascha’s room and collapsing onto her lap. In seconds, he was sobbing, his make-up running, his outbursts incoherent and shrill.

“That’s basically what she told me, Sascha!”

Solo was beside himself. He couldn’t believe the state of anger he had allowed Floribeth to work him into.

“I’m incapable of being loved in any natural way? Because of…” He lifted his pearls up over his head and shook them in his fist. “Because of these?”

Then the seamstress made a wretched sound as he hurled the ancestral pearls at the wall.

“Well I didn’t ask for them! I just do what she wants of me all the time, but sure, Sasch – no one can love me!”

Solo could feel Sascha trying to call her magic to the surface and soothe him with it. But that wouldn’t do any good. This was a different kind of pain.

“Solo, shhh. It’s okay. It’s not true. You know it isn’t true.”

Solo barely heard her. He sobbed until he couldn’t anymore.

Later, when Solo had gotten it all out of his system and he was leaning against Sascha while she played in his hair, he whispered, “Sasch. Can I tell you something?”

He had opened the question in broken Esmeraldi. Sascha answered in the same way, signaling that whatever he said would be kept safe and just between them.

“My charms have always behaved in strange ways, yet I’m the only one who’s ever understood them. I can’t explain it, but Sascha, I know what I know. They only work to flex people’s attitude about the material world. People are people – they internalize those feelings and sometimes what they feel has the potential to carry them beyond the object. Still, whatever feeling they project out into the world came from a foundation of something inanimate. It’s all in the dress, the garment, the pearls, whatever they’re wearing or touching.” He paused to take a breath. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s impossible to generate a charm through my own... self.”

Sascha remained silent, but Solo could feel her thinking.

The seamstress added, “It makes me think about tatang–uh. I mean Honore.”

“So,” Sascha said finally, “all those times Beth claimed our father tricked her into feeling things for him that were never there... you’re saying that she was full of it?”

Solo frowned. “I don’t think she lied on purpose, but I could see her needing something to justify her own decisions to herself. The charms are an easy thing to blame.”

Sascha helped her brother off of her and into an upright position so she could look him in the eye.

“Solo, if you were to ever tell nanay this, she would just deny it.”

His gaze drifted elsewhere. “…. I know.”

Sascha gave his shoulders a gentle shake. “I don’t say that to be harsh, Solo.”

Solo reached up to pry her hands from her shoulders and cradled them between his own scarred palms.

“Not at all, Sasch. I’m... relieved that I came to this realization. It means that no matter what nanang says about me, I know it can never be true.” He paused. “I don’t get to talk through these sorts of things very often. But it’s the only way I’m able to make sense of all of it… everything that you and I have been through.”

Sascha smiled, which gave Solo hope more than anything else. “If you ever need to talk again, I’m here.”

She got off her bed and made her way across the room. She came back with Solo’s pearls and placed them around his neck.

“I needed to hear that,” Solo whispered, his voice full of emotion. “Thank you.”

Sascha glanced down and noticed that Solo hadn’t gone to reassure himself by touching the pearls.

She said, “You know, something that I’ve noticed over the years is this. Whenever our family comes to visit from Esmeralda or even as far as Catclaw, they like to dump their old, creepy heirlooms on us.”

Sascha looked up at her brother and pushed aside the bang that always managed to cascade over the left side of his face.

“Cousins and great aunts and uncles whose names we never knew and probably won’t ever remember walk through here with artifacts that look like they should belong in a museum. And who do they bring them to? Not Beth. It’s never Beth. They bring them to you.”

Before Solo knew it, his scarred fingers were walking along the lace in his dress, seeking out the ancient voices, beaded and condensed in layers against his torso.

“You know the placement of each pearl by heart and the ancestor it belonged to. Our family members come to you to feel reassured, Solo. They leave our past with you because they know it’s safe in your hands. Clients come to you to feel beautiful and cherished. So the next time Floribeth tries to make you feel low...”

Sascha brushed a tear that had escaped Solo’s dark eyes.

“I want you to remember whose face comes to mind when people think of Vega Bridal… and who it is our ancestors have always looked to.”

#the arcana #solo de la vega #solo the seamstress #sascha de la vega #sascha the gunslinger #floribeth de la vega #stefan honore #basil jebeles #my writing #lemony

[the-melting-world]

Meet the De La Vegas! Eventually I'm going to redo Sascha's bio (along with Adrenaline and Bai) but for now, she's dumping her whole family on me and I just wanted to give some details about each of them.

First off, for those who did not get to know Sascha through her original bio, she's coded as Black and Filipino (same goes for her twin brother). Her father is Trinidadian-coded and her mother's side is Flipino-coded. Before Sascha's family immigrated to Vesuvia, they came from a city located northwest of Nopal, close to the Emerald Sea. I pretty much hc this place (for which I have no name yet) to be heavily inspired by the Philippines. Sascha's family does speak Fantasy-Tagalog. While I do have some exposure to Filipino culture, please don't hesitate to dm me if something doesn't add up in how the characters are being portrayed. (Same goes for Sun Bai, who is coded Chinese-Vietnamese and Adrenaline, who is Afro-Brazilian.)

Full name: Sascha Honore de la Vega (She will sometimes go by Sascha Vega just for convenience sake)

Age: 32

Orientation/Pronouns: Aromantic Asexual (she/her)

Occupation: Wedding Planner (1st) Oculist (2nd) Gunslinger Pirate (3rd)

Zodiac: Libra Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Taurus Rising

Minor Arcana: Page of Wands (Upright: Exploration, Excitement, Freedom / Reversed: Lack of Direction, Negativity, Feeling Caged)

Here we have Sascha before and after she leaves the family business to become an oculist. Her mother (Floribeth) has strict rules about presentation and dress code when it comes to her employees. Rule one: They must be a De La Vega either by marriage or by blood. Rule two: When coming before a client, attire must be elegant and any jewerly should be modest (For example, all the women in the family are required to wear a simple string of pearls). As you can imagine, Sascha did a bit of rebelling with her blue hair. If Solomon (Sascha's twin brother) hadn't done the same, Floribeth would never have let it slide.

More family members and lore beneath the cut!

Full name: Solomon Honore de la Vega (goes by "Solo")

Age: 32

Orientation/Pronouns: Genderqueer Pansexual (he/him most of the time, but Solo is fine with any pronouns / gendered language. He often uses "she" or "they" when he's sewing together dresses, helping clients try them on, or trying them on themself!)

Occupation: Dress and garment maker, assistant decoration coordinator

Zodiac: Virgo Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Taurus Rising

Minor Arcana: Queen of Pentacles (Upright: Practicality, Creature Comforts, Financial Security / Reversed: Work Life Imbalance, Feeling Smothered)

Meet Solo! He's the head seamstress/seamster (ok with either) at Vega Bridal & Events. He's got charmer magic that is sort of hard to define, but how it basically works - Solo weaves his enchantments into the wedding garments and decorations he makes. It helps ease the customers into becoming comfortable with going over their budgets. It also creates a sense of dreamy euphoria whenever a customer puts on their dress or similar wedding attire.

Sascha and Solo's parents! On the left, we have Floribeth de la Vega (65). On the right is Stefan Honore (57).

Floribeth is the head of her own wedding planning company, Vega Bridal & Events. Stefan used to be a gondolier, but he left Vesuvia with a funky pirate crew shortly after the plague hit. Sascha and Solo were about six years old at the time. They have fond memories of their father and since it was no secret that he was a rolling stone, they don't hold much of a grudge against him for disappearing (since he wasn't around that much in the first place). Floribeth, however, hates Stefan with a passion and curses his name whenever she can. She's not proud of the traits her children have interited from him, such as Sascha's rebellious spirit and overall "tacky-ness" as Beth likes to put it. And Solo's charmer magic, which he inherited directly from Stefan. Beth keeps a tight leash on when Solo can use his magic. She believes it's only necessary to advance the family business. There are drawbacks to limiting Solo's magic use, but I'm saving that lore for later fics!

Meet Jaslene and April de la Vega! They are WIVES.

Jaslene (age 39) is Floribeth's youngest first cousin on her mother's side. Jaslene works as Beth's close assistant. She's also the unofficial fire extinguisher for Beth and Sascha's heated arguments. April (age 44) has been in the family for so long, she feels completely comfortable around them and has even picked up some of the language spoken in the home. April manages the floral arrangements and musical entertainment. She works closely with Solo. Jazz and April's responsibilites keep them from seeing each other most of the day, but when they are finally able to reunite, all their business-professional facade fades away and they just become stinking cute together. Sascha often uses her cousin's place as a reprieve from her mother (whose house she still lives in before she becomes an oculist). Without the support of Jazz, April, and her brother Solo, Sascha would have definitely throttled Beth in her sleep by now.

#i really like this family #ok now that they're here i have to freaking write for them #the de la vegas #sascha de la vega #solo de la vega #floribeth de la vega #stefan honore #jaslene de la vega #april de la vega #sascha the gunslinger #solo the seamstress

[the-melting-world]

Invitation | "Truffle Butter"

~ In which a small crew of pirates dock in Vesuvia for a night of fantasy and fun...

@midsummer-masquerade

You can read all the fics to Off To The Races: A Midsummer Masquerade here.

Music: "Truffle Butter" by Drake, Nicki Minaj, Lil Wayne

cw: nudity

~ 1.8k words

Weeks before the Midsummer Masquerade commences, it's a typical afternoon at Casa Vega. Floribeth is signing off on important documents while her son, Solo, reads and prioritizes all of their incoming mail. Lost in the routine, Solo almost glosses over a creamy, delicately ornate envelope addressed to any and all interested adult members of the House of De La Vega...

Solo de la Vega stared at the thick, pretty envelope in his lap. He tried his best to keep his expression neutral so Floribeth, who was just a few seats away scratching at a document with her quill, wouldn’t notice that her son was hiding something from her.

“Nanang, I’m going to call it a day. I don’t feel well.”

Beth looked up from her work and leveled her honeyed gaze with Solo’s midnight one. He tried to appear as exhausted as possible. His mother glanced down at the pile of unopened mail in front of him.

“I want the rest of those envelopes taken care of by this evening. I’ll send Jaslene to your room later to collect them.”

Solo indicated that he understood, offered a respectful kiss goodnight and hastily tucked the letter from the Palace under the pile before taking off with the messy stack.

Just as Solo expected, the letter was an invitation to a midsummer masquerade event. He had seen one such as this before. He knew what this particular masquerade was about and how it differed from the ones that were open to the general public.

In the past, Solo had always gone straight to Floribeth and begged for permission to attend. The Vegas may not have been wealthy enough to be considered among the Vesuvian elite, but they were just as respected and well known because of the family bridal business.

Floribeth, unsurprisingly, had denied Solo every time. In fact, none of the Vegas were permitted to attend the event.

“Gatherings of that sort are beneath us.” Beth always said. Even if she believed the opposite, she had already forbidden Solo from ever leaving the property after hours due to his condition.

This time Solo wasn’t going to ask for permission. He knew his own limitations. There was no doubt that he required an escort of some kind. If he wanted to get to this party and back in one piece, he was going to need the help of his sister. Sascha, last Solo checked, was the navigator of a strange pirate vessel that traveled under the water rather than above it. Solo had only met Sascha’s crewmates a few times before. He liked them well enough.

The seamstress pulled out some parchment and a quill from his vanity dresser. Then he sat down and began to write as fast as he could.

***

Three weeks later…

The Nautilus, a sleek, shell-shaped monstrosity of a submarine vessel, broke the surface into Zephyr Bay. It bobbed languidly until it reached the docks. The vessel came to a clean stop with a steamy hiss. The wheel on the metal hatch at the very top unlocked and three individuals climbed out.

Sun Bai interrupted the peacefulness of the early evening with his usual complaining. This time it was about the length of time Adrenaline took to get ready.

“We’re going to be late because of you. I don’t understand how it took you hours to get dressed when you’re wearing nothing but neon fuzz and glitter.”

Nali tossed her thick, bubblegum pink box braids over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Not all of us can toss on some mesh panties and slink into a robe, Bai.”

By now, the pirate was ignoring his crewmate and focusing on a piece of fabric he pulled from the pocket of his robe. It was made of leather and it came from a package he had received from a certain quartermaster a few weeks ago.

Jacqui was currently waiting for Bai at the Palace. In the letter he had sent, he detailed a few things about what he would be wearing and attached a sample of the fabric going into his outfit.

Bai lifted the swath of leather to his face like he had so many times before tonight and deeply breathed in the quartermaster’s calming scent.

“Gods, Bai. You are such a creep.”

Sun Bai looked up at Nali. He didn’t have the energy to glare. “What.”

She pointed a long, decorated nail at the piece of leather. “Is that Jacqui’s? What the hell are they, his fucking loins?”

“So what if they are?” Bai grumbled, tucking the gift back in his pocket.

“Yeah, okay then. Just go ahead and smear your face all in it right in front of me and Sascha.”

Sascha, who had climbed out of the hatch last and was locking it back, said, “I’ll meet you two at the Palace. I’ve got to go get our tickets.” She looked at them pointedly before climbing down the sub onto the docks. “Make sure you don’t kill each other on the way there.”

After she left, Bai narrowed his gunmetal gray eyes at Adrenaline and said, “Let’s get something clear. When we get to this party, you and I,” he deliberately cracked his neck and looked off in the distance, “we don’t know each other. Got it?”

Adrenaline rolled her eyes to the sky, sighed and lazily took off into a backhand spring. She landed on the docks in her fuzzy stilettos. “Whatever, Bai. See you at the Palace.”

The pirates moved at their own speed through the city districts. Each of them were lost in their daydreams about who they would be meeting once they arrived at the masquerade. Nali twirled the ends of her pink braids about her fingers as she imagined finally having the chance to see Meredith without any of those heavy garments and swords clinging to her body. Nali tried to picture more scars running across her freckled, creamy skin, and how it all looked against her bright, but harsh green irises.

Bai, on the other hand, kept tripping over the hem of his robe every time he thought too hard about what he had planned for Jacqui. All this time at sea, he had been craving his solid, comforting presence. Nali was so loud and Sascha wasn’t, but her aura had a needling quality to it. Bai longed to take a vacation from it all and lose himself in Jacqui’s dark, muscular frame and reliably deep affection.

By the time the pirates made it to the Palace, they were walking side by side again and no longer annoyed by the fact that they were standing so close to each other. They waited at the gates for Sascha, taking in the decorations and the lights made special for that evening.

Eventually, it was Bai who broke the silence.

“What you got under all that pink fur anyway?”

Nali perked up right away and turned to face her crewmate. “Something that’s bound to blind some people who aren’t careful enough. Want to see?”

Bai looked her way, but didn’t move from where he leaned on the gate. “Sure.”

He had to adjust his glasses from sliding down his nose when Nali opened her neon fur bomber and cocked her hip a little to the side. The edge of Bai’s lip twitched as he took in the glitzy chains accentuating her ample curves. His gaze lingered briefly on the swell of her breasts, awash in glitter and a thin, bedazzled bikini.

“Shiny,” he said flatly before looking away.

Nali smirked in satisfaction as she zipped up her bomber. “You can just fucking say it, Bai. If you didn’t already know me, you’d wanna bang.”

“Unfortunately, I do know you, Rosario.”

Nali flinched at the name. “Don’t make me stab you with this heel.”

Bai snorted as he gently pushed himself off the wall and turned to face her, undoing his robe in the process. Once Nali saw the sheer fabric pulled taut against the fine muscles in his chest and the fishnet jockstrap snug against his relaxed cock, her anger melted away. The last thing she noticed before he tied his loose robe back was the simple jade necklace that he sometimes wore when they would all go out to dinner.

Nali whistled. “Look, if Jacqui doesn’t hit that at some point tonight, then I will.”

Bai snorted something sarcastic, but couldn’t hide the heat rising up his face at the flattery. Then he and Adrenaline both looked up at the sound of a carriage approaching. It looked like something out of a fairy tale. The pirates almost started to scratch their heads in confusion when the carriage came to a stop, the door opened, and Sascha helped herself out. Unlike Nali and Bai, she had not changed her clothes for the occasion. The gunslinger sported her casual button-down attire, accentuated only by the excess of rare beaded necklaces and a dark wide-brimmed hat.

After she got out, she helped someone exit the carriage. If it were not for the wavy blue hair combed all to one side, Bai and Adrenaline probably would not have recognized Solo de la Vega.

Nali rubbed her hands together in intrigue. “Oooh. Cinderella, Cin-der-ella.”

Sascha guided her brother to the entrance. Both of the Vegas moved with a certain proud stride, but there was something so ethereal and light about the way Solo approached the Palace gates. Bai took in Solo’s attire, which looked like something someone would choose to wear on the night of their honeymoon rather than as a costume for a sex party. As if noticing the look on Bai’s face, Solo shrugged bashfully and said, “I know. I know. But this was all I had.”

Nali kissed her teeth. “Girl, stop. You’re glowing. Someone might actually propose to you tonight, but that’s not a bad thing at all.”

Solo gently blushed and tucked back some hair that had fallen into his eye. Sascha uncurled their arms and handed him over to Sun Bai, who awkwardly took Solo’s arm in his.

“Take care of my brother,” Sascha told him. She was smiling, but Bai could tell by her tone that she was dead serious. Only after Bai nodded and reassured her with a telepathic confirmation, did she take a step back and look at the three of them. She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a folded letter and three unique facial coverings.

“Here are your masks and this letter counts as all three of your tickets. Just make sure you’re all together when you walk up and let Solo do the talking.”

Once it was clear that the three of them were ready to start the night, Sascha signaled to the guards at the gates to open them. As the metal yawned to life, Solo leaned forward to give his sister one last hug.

“Thanks, Sasch. I owe you one.”

Sascha hugged him back, honing in on the impression of the ancestral pearls that he always kept wrapped around his wrist.

“You deserve to have the experiences you want, Solo.” She took a step back and smiled up at the three of them, “Now go have fun.”

#the arcana #midsummer masquerade #VesuviaAfterDark #solo the seamstress #sascha the gunslinger #sun bai the psychic #mestra adrenaline #floribeth de la vega #nudity cw #lemony #my writing

[the-melting-world]

For @borednschooled

I never thought I would be writing a kiss prompt for Sascha and Solo’s parents, but I do have thoughts about them and this was a very fun way to explore that. So thank you for sending in the request!

Floribeth x Honore

50 Kiss Prompts: Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

Stefan Honore had been steering gondolas through the Vesuvian channels long enough to know that the woman on his boat that morning was not from around here.

Still, she rode the gondola as if it was her own private yacht. Her clothing looked ornate and stiff, but she managed to project a serene, confident aura as she peered out at the passing architecture.

Honore admired the way the slivers of gray in her elegantly coiffed hair caught the sunlight. He threw a smile in her direction whenever her honey golden gaze drifted past him. The woman always smiled politely in return, but there was something tight about it, as if her mind was elsewhere.

When they arrived at the Floating Market, Honore offered his hand to the woman and asked if she needed an escort for the rest of the day.

“Blessed be the gods, do I look that dazed and confused? Thank you, but no.”

She chuckled dimly, her honeyed gaze self consciously taking in her starched attire. It was a bold contrast to the breezy, draped silhouettes that most Vesuvians sported.

Before Honore could reassure her, the woman took his hand and asked for his name.

“Stefan,” he said, once again smiling his wide, gap-toothed smile. “But please, call me Honore.”

The woman’s smile lost some of its tightness. “Call me Beth.”

As Honore pulled Beth to her feet, he was impressed by the way she balanced mostly on her own despite the tendency of the narrow boat to rock from side to side.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you can’t find your footing in the city.” He lifted her hand and took a step back to admire her balance some more. “Clearly you know how to stand on your own.”

Beth waved at the gondola. “On a boat, yes. We’ll see how steady I can stand in a city like this. I’ve come all the way from Esmeralda. None of my family could make the trip with me unfortunately.”

Having been to the coastal country before, Honore nodded in understanding. “Did you come all that way for rest and relaxation?” He asked, sliding his palm to fill up hers. He used the many rings on his fingers to work in his charms. It pleased him to see that nervousness melt a little from her spine.

Beth smirked and squinted up at the sun. “It’s more of a business trip. I would like to own a shop one day. All I want to do is sell dresses.”

Honore’s dark eyes coasted along the snug, trumpet shape of Beth’s skirt. “I think Vesuvia would appreciate your contribution to the market.”

Beth made a soft hum in her throat. “Thank you, Honore. But it’s wedding dresses I want to sell. For the modern everyday woman.”

They exchanged a few more words before Honore finally helped her out of his boat. When she paid him, he accepted her hand holding the coins and turned it over so he could brush her warm skin with his slightly parted lips.

Honore’s eyelashes fluttered at the scent of floral, spice and gourmet coffee. He looked up at Beth to see if he had overstepped, but there was nothing but appreciation and soft curiosity in her expression.

“Good luck to you, Beth.”

Beth brought her other hand forward, slipping more, fatter coins into his palm.

“I don’t believe in luck, but I’m feeling more ready to continue my search thanks to you, Honore.”

She let go of his fist, which held more fare than required for the short ride. Honore watched Beth press her clutch bag to her abdomen before she walked towards the Floating Market with her head held high and the sun turning her hair into starlight.

#the arcana #50 kiss prompts #floribeth de la vega #stefan honore #solo de la vega #sascha de la vega #my writing

[the-melting-world]

Don't Call Me Daughter: The Making of a Gunslinger | Pt. 1

photo credits: shopbarnabyjack.com (no photographer or model listed, product item discontinued)

Welcome to the first installment of Sascha de la Vega's miniseries! Think of these fics as a prequel to Just Pray (which chronicles Sun Bai's journey to piracy).

Miniseries Masterlist

Music: "Daughter" by Pearl Jam

cw: none

~ 1.9k words

Sascha and Solo de la Vega were sent to run errands at the most prestigious fabric store in the Heart District. Instead of selecting the yards of fabric they needed to construct a garment for Solo’s client, the twins found themselves standing before an empty storefront just a few blocks away…

Sascha huddled close to her brother with her arm looped through his. Thanks to his condition, Solo often needed to lean on Sascha in order to walk. Today, however, Sascha felt that she needed Solo’s support more than he needed hers.

“Squeeze my arm any harder, Sasch, and it’s yours to keep.” Solo said in his usual serene, lighthearted way.

Sascha tore her eyes away from the shop’s empty windows and unclenched her fingers.

“Oh. Sorry, Solo.”

Solo’s dark eyes twinkled as he folded a powdery blue lock of hair behind his ear.

“Don’t apologize, sis. It’s normal to feel excited about it.” Then he looked up at the storefront and sighed wistfully. “You’re finally moving out. You can’t imagine how happy I am for you.”

Solo knew better than anyone knew what this sort of transition meant to Sascha. Where the Vegas came from, there wasn’t anything shameful about staying with your parents as you matured and started forming families of your own. Not to mention, the convenience of doing so became a matter of efficiency when you took into account the family business, Vega Bridal & Events. It only made sense to combine households, welcome incoming cousins from the motherland, and hire as many family members as possible in order to save costs. Yet, as much as Sascha was an important and valuable part of the Vega household, she never got to feel as valued as she truly was. She had her mother, Floribeth de la Vega, to thank for that.

So it wasn’t too ironic that every Vega besides the matriarch herself knew of Sascha’s plans to move out very soon and start her own business.

As much as Sascha wished Solo could take that leap with her, they both wouldn’t bother trying to speak into existence what they knew could never happen. Solo could not leave his mother’s side. He couldn’t live alone for medical reasons and besides, he was too much in love with the family business. What was more, Sascha had spent the majority of her life disappointing Floribeth, to the point where she did so now on purpose. But Solo was naturally hardwired to prove to their mother that he was the farthest thing from a disappointment or a mistake.

Solo was proud of the fact that he had convinced Floribeth to see him for who he was rather than seeing him as nothing more than a copy of his unreliable father, Honore. Solo couldn’t help that he had inherited the same magic Honore used to charm and persuade people to whims. With much practice and absolute obedience in everything he did, Solo had shown Floribeth over the years that charm could be used for something useful and practical.

Charm could put food on the table and money in the bank. Charm could keep clients coming back and recommending more clients. Charm could only be used if the intentions were selfless, professional and with the Vega name in mind. Any other demonstration or indulgence of the charming gene was dishonorable and an act of downright disrespect.

On the other hand, Sascha’s magic was nothing like Solo’s. Technically, she inherited the healing gene from an old maternal line that could be traced to the half of her ancestors that migrated out of the region now known as Nopal. Healing from those origins looked nothing like the medmages of Vesuvia and Sascha’s family understood it even less than Solo’s charm.

The last Vegas who possessed the aptitude to heal were Floribeth’s great grandmother and great aunt, Luningning and Adrijana, who together, had started the dressmaking tradition.

Looking at Sascha, one would think Floribeth would be proud that her daughter carried a tangible piece of their family history in her blood. But none of that meant anything to a woman who didn’t believe her child was making herself useful enough. Sascha’s healing abilities had always expressed themselves as a temporary fix. At first everyone assumed that the effects would last longer once Sascha had a chance to grow up and develop her craft.

They hadn’t.

Over the years, Sascha came to see herself less as a healer and more like a painkiller or a bandaid. Necessary for sure, but the effects never lasted that long no matter how hard she tried. The need for them to do so wouldn’t be so dire if it wasn’t for Solo’s chronic pain and fatigue.

Sascha had a theory for why Solo had been sick all his life, but she knew Floribeth wasn’t ready to hear it. For Solo’s sake, Sascha chose to swallow that rough pill and be there for him where she could and as her mother directed.

In Solo’s case, it had been a very interesting time balancing the role of the supportive, trustworthy brother with the flawless, blameless son. Sometimes the guilt was so strong, it was a wonder to him that Sascha and Floribeth still loved him unconditionally.

Solo tilted his head back until he spotted a little window above the shop. “Is that a loft I spy?”

Sascha nodded. “A small one. I think it was only meant for storage, but I’m making it into my bedroom.”

Just as Solo was about to reply, he broke out in a fit of dire coughing. As sudden as his outburst was, Sascha didn’t so much as flinch. She broadened her stance so he could lean as much of his weight on her as he needed.

While Solo went through his little episode, Sascha could feel the eyes of the passerby linger on the two of them. His retching and hacking always sounded so violent and tortuous. It was scary when they were younger, but Sascha was used to it now.

“Better?” Sascha whispered calmly once the fit had passed. Solo let go of a few more hollow coughs before he slowly eased himself upright and nodded.

“I didn’t cause a scene again, did I?” Solo didn’t look like he cared either way. Coughing and wheezing every few hours came just as naturally as breathing.

Sascha pretended to look around. “They’re all waiting for an encore.”

Solo lifted his hand, delicately scarred from years of needlework, to his mouth and giggled softly against his knuckles. “They’ll have to pay me first.”

“We all know they could never afford you.”

“I mean…” Solo gave an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes as he carded a hand through his blue waves.

Sascha chuckled and tugged on his arm. “Come on, pretty boy. Let’s go. I don’t feel like explaining to nanay why it took us an hour to purchase fabrics as opposed to forty-five minutes.”

No matter how many times Sascha kept checking her watch to keep up with the hour, she still managed to let Solo convince her into getting sidetracked. After picking up what they needed from the fabric store, the twins stopped by a coffee shop that also sold consignment books. Solo ordered himself the richest, sweetest drink they had, at which Sascha pointed and declared a milkshake masquerading as a latte. Sascha’s order was blonde and foamy with a dark sediment hanging out at the bottom. She didn’t really have plans on buying a book, but she was drawn to the little cart on display when Solo started chatting up the barista.

Sascha hovered by the books, barely skimming the titles when one nearly made her burn her tongue against her drink as she brought it to her lips.

Gatherings Under the Cloak of the Midnight Robber

Later when Sascha and Solo were riding the carriage back to Casa Vega, Solo noticed the title and gasped softly in pleasant surprise. “Honore used to play that character for us, right? He’d recite us poems and dance around.”

They were getting close to the house, so Sascha tucked the book away in her bag.

“It’s called robber talk, not poetry.”

Solo fixed his hair and checked his clothes for any coffee stains. “Same thing. It all rhymes.”

Sascha didn’t take the book out again until she was alone in her room. She held the cover in the light so it could illuminate the dark depiction of the Carnival character she only knew by way of her father’s stories. The Midnight Robber was a quasi-skeletal persona, weighed down with black layers and a wide-brimmed hat. Though his costume was gaudy and he waved around guns and skulls, he fascinated Sascha just as much now as he had when she was a child.

A shadow appeared at Sascha’s back, eclipsing the light from the window. The book was snatched out of her hand.

“You told me you were late because you stopped to purchase scrolls on med-magic.”

Floribeth de la Vega came up beside her daughter, studying the cover with a subtle look of disapproval. The event planner mumbled, “This is the same type of trash that your father used to read.”

Sascha sighed and held out her hand. “Nanay, give it back to me. Please.”

The moment Floribeth looked up, she became distracted. “What is all this rubbish on your lips?” Faster than lightning, she reached and brushed a rough thumb against Sascha’s mouth. “Wipe off that makeup. We plan weddings here. Not funeral services.”

“Nanang!” Sascha whined, hating how childlike she sounded to her own ears.

Floribeth took her hand back and tossed the book of poems on Sascha’s unmade bed.

“And where are your pearls? We’re meeting our client in fifteen minutes on the terrace. Solo and I will be waiting.” The honey-eyed matriarch looked as if she was about to leave, but she gave Sascha another once over and clicked her tongue. “That hair. What a mess. I can’t believe you talked your brother into–”

Sascha rolled her eyes as she rubbed the rest of her indigo lipstick on the back of her hand.

“He’s a grown man that can make his own decisions. I didn’t have to talk him into anything.”

By now Sascha surmised that the client was probably a difficult one because Floribeth was already on edge and refusing to let her have the last word.

“Sascha, honestly, if you spent half as much time trying to develop your magical talents as you do making yourself look like you worship the dead, there’s a chance Solo wouldn’t suffer so much. Have you even stopped to check his temperature today? Did you let him have breaks while the two of you were out?”

Sascha was already rummaging through her vanity drawers for some pearls. “If you are so concerned for Solo, why haven’t you taken him to see a doctor by now? It’s not like you don’t have the money.”

Floribeth made a sound that might have been mistaken for laughter. “Don’t be so selfish, Sascha. Solo doesn’t need a doctor. He has you. We look after our own, don’t forget that.” She walked to the doorway and rapped her bejewled knuckles against the frame. “Fifteen minutes.”

Sascha watched Floribeth leave, rolling her eyes again after the woman had gone. Then she changed into a new cardigan, something brighter than what she had on before and donned her neck with a simple string of pearls.

Before Sascha left her room, she picked up the book from the consignment shop and opened it to a random page. Her dark eyes roved over the first line of some robber talk. They all started the same – with an introduction. Some gave the name of the speaker, but many were simply, I am the Midnight Robber.

In her younger days, Sascha had tried hundreds of times to come up with her own robber talk. It never sounded right.

After reading a few lines, she very quietly tried again for the first time in many years.

“Sascha Honore de la Vega is my name… My nanay curses me.”

She closed the book and adjusted her pearls.

“But to me it’s just a game.”

#the arcana #sascha the gunslinger #solo de la vega #solo the seamstress #floribeth de la vega #my writing

[the-melting-world]

Don't Call Me Daughter: The Making of Gunslinger | Pt. 3

photo credits: shopbarnabyjack.com (no photographer or model listed, product item discontinued)

Miniseries Masterlist

Music: “Daughter” by Pearl Jam

cw: physical abuse, humiliation, blood

~ 2.8k words

***

Sascha walked up the narrow, spiraling metal staircase into the attic. Really, it was a tower. One that she and Solo would escape to when they were very young. Now it was just a graveyard for objects and documents that somehow had stuck to the Vega household over the decades and sometimes, even the centuries.

At the moment, Sascha was looking for Solo. She knew that he was currently trying to hunt down a specific type of decoration, so she figured he could be up there since she hadn’t been able to find him anywhere else on the property.

“Solo?”

Sascha felt like she was walking up into a cloud of dust.

By the gods, I hope he can breathe up here.

Sascha called her brother’s name again. Even when she didn’t get an answer, she lingered, her eyes scanning the contents of uncovered boxes. Someone had been up here, it seemed.

Something black and shiny caught Sascha’s eye. Within moments, she was lifting something hard and plastic from out of a container.

***

Solo had found what they were looking for, but they had tired themself out in doing so. The effort left them stranded at the window, which they had cracked open only by a sliver because of how jammed it had gotten from disuse.

At the moment, Solo could no longer hear their own labored breaths, but their heart was still beating fast. The best thing to do was stay put until all of their organs returned to functioning normally. That or wait until someone eventually came up here to rescue them.

“Hand over the pearls and back away slowly.”

Solo arched a curious brow before looking over their shoulder. Despite recognizing the face on the other side of the room, they jumped anyway at the sight of a gun pointed in their direction.

“Sascha, what–”

Their sister cracked a wolfish smile. “Don’t worry. It’s fake.”

She tossed the toy gun into a random box without a lid. Solo cleared their throat and smoothed their sweaty palms over the front of their flowy dress.

“I see you stumbled on those toys that Honore used to bring us back from Carnival.” Before Sascha could reply, Solo reached into the crate behind them and pulled out another black item. “Remember the hats he gave us?”

Sascha’s dark eyes locked onto the wide-brimmed hat in Solo’s hands.

“Yes. Nanay hated how often I wore mine. She hated it so much that she set it on fire while I was at school.”

Solo smirked in sympathy. “I do remember that.” They offered up the hat. “But she left mine alone. Do you want it?”

By now, Sascha was close enough to reach out and brush her fingers along the cheap, jersey fabric.

“We don’t have very many things left of Honore. It’s yours, Solo.”

“What do you expect me to do with it?” Solo wheezed, clutching their pearls to their chest. “Wear it?”

With an impatient and slightly painful groan, Solo took hold of Sascha’s arm and pulled themself to their feet.

“No. You take it.” Solo dropped the hat over Sascha’s head, casting the rest of her features in shadow. “You’re the only one I know who can pull off this hideous thing.”

***

Sascha kept on the hat through the rest of the day. She wore it proudly on her trip to the vineyards with her cousin, Jaslene. As far as Sascha knew, this appointment was pretty standard. Jaslene didn’t really need her until the end when she was wrapping things up with Glorio, the contractor. And Floribeth would be on her way later when she got out of one of her other appointments.

Shortly after arriving, Sascha left Jaslene to do business with the vendor. She took her time strolling the grounds, losing herself down the aisles of ripening grapes.

Honore’s hat did well keeping the afternoon sun out her eyes. Sascha tucked her hands against the small of her back, lifted her chin a little higher, and walked with an easy confidence.

Though she had left the toy gun back in the attic of Casa Vega, she still felt its weight and bulky shape in her empty palm. The air smelled too rich with fruit for what Sascha had begun to imagine for her surroundings. She closed her eyes and pictured the even rows of vines transforming into sparsely distributed cactus plants across an arid landscape.

She imagined her single string of pearls replaced with gaudy beads and stones, both cheap and priceless, crowding her chest and each of her fingers. She imagined her boots crunching over dry, cracked earth, her simple peasant skirt kicking up a tiny cloud around her ankles as its hem dusted the ground.

The hand that felt the weight of the phantom handgun had begun to take on the shape of one – Sascha’s index and middle fingers pointed out with her ring and pinky loosely curled inward. Her thumb formed the hammer.

Sascha stopped and whipped her wrist out, the revolver turned on its side.

“Sascha de la Vega is my name.”

Sascha opened her eyes. Steady, midnight irises overlooked tall grass, marking the edge of the property. But Sascha only registered what her imagination had conjured.

The desert. The cacti. The dry, blistering winds.

“My nanay curses me, but to me it’s just a game.”

Sascha’s other arm came out from behind her back, miming a second revolver. This one she brought to her lips, as if to blow out the smoke oozing from the hot barrel.

Sascha tried new positions, each one dedicated to a new line of her unpolished robber talk.

“She tries to love me. It comes out so wrong.

With every curse and jab, I grow more strong

Yeah, she’s callin’ me a thief, a little bastard kid in black

But I only waste my time robbin’ cause I’m leavin’ someday

and all the things she stole from me...

I’m gonna really need them back!”

Sweat trickled down Sascha’s temples from the desert heat she had conjured in her mind. She had dropped into a stance so low that the grass almost hid her completely.

Almost.

“What in the name of the gods are you doing on the ground?”

The far off Nopali air turned sour in Sascha’s mouth. She lost her footing and stumbled over the hem of her long skirt. A wrinkled, yet firm hand took hold of her wrist and hauled her to her feet.

“Sascha. Get up.”

Before Sascha could protect her father’s hat, Floribeth snatched it clean off her daughter’s head.

“You wore this filthy thing to see Glorio?”

Sascha’s hands went to pat down her disrupted curls. Without thinking, she hissed, “Glorio knows me. Think they’d care what I wear to visit their vineyard for the thousandth time? It’s just a hat!”

Floribeth’s angular honeyed eyes blazed as she reached for Sascha’s wrist. Once she had wrenched it out of the way of her face, she used her other hand to teach Sascha a lesson. And then another.

Sascha’s throat burned as she snatched her hand back and put some distance between herself and Floribeth. She didn’t dare reach up to nurse the side of her face that took the beating. But the temptation was strong. It had been some time since she’d earned herself one of her mother’s physical reminders.

“You forget yourself,” Beth huffed, annoyed more than anything. As if she had been unnecessarily pushed over some edge for which she carried no fault.

“How many times do I have to talk sense into you, child? You’re almost thirty.”

Sascha bit back the urge to remind Beth that she was thirty-two.

By now the matriarch was stuffing the hat into her designer bag and turning away. She had descended into high, unbroken Esmeraldi. Sascha sulked as she followed, but knew better than to interrupt her.

“Your image doesn’t belong to you outside of our home. It belongs to our business. You are a Vega. Whether you like it or not, that is who you represent when you bring yourself before anyone who is not one of us. They are all potential clients – potential business partners, and not to mention, our competition. I have worked too hard for this family for you to spoil everything with your nonsense. Do you know how many sacrifices I had to make in order to establish our name in this city? Of course you don’t, Sascha. Because you’re selfish. You’ve always had that in you. Just like your father. I break my back trying to give you and your brother a legacy to build a–”

Sascha tuned her out.

She felt naked without her hat.

***

Sascha hadn’t touched her food since dinner began. No one seemed to notice besides Solo, who hadn’t taken his hand off of hers under the table.

Sascha could feel her brother trying to calm her down with his charm magic. She let him because in many ways, it was therapeutic for both of them.

The rest of the large table was occupied by Jaslene, her wife April, Floribeth of course, and several of Solo and Sascha’s younger cousins, who had been invited to stay and eat with them in the main house.

At the moment, Floribeth was happily engaging her guests on the topic of their Eskrima training. The handful of boys, ranging in ages from eight to fourteen, remembered everything that their parents must have instilled in them regarding Floribeth beforehand. They addressed the matriarch with enthusiasm and repeated gratitude, for it was she who financed their classes with the private tutor. It was she who made sure they had the equipment they needed, hot meals throughout the day, and dormitories where they could retire until their training was complete.

Floribeth was generous with such things as long as she was shown respect and appreciation.

Only when the boys had gotten through all of their reports and Floribeth had returned to enjoying her meal did Sascha see this as a chance to take advantage of the lull in conversation.

Jaslene, April, and Solo all looked on with a mixture of worry and hopefulness as Sascha slowly got to her feet. They knew what she was about to do and wanted nothing but the best for her. All this time they had hoped for Sascha to make her own path, regardless of Floribeth’s intentions for her.

Beth’s honey-toned eyes drifted up from her plate. She fixed them on her daughter, jaw tight with disapproval.

“You may not be excused, Sascha,” Floribeth said calmly. “We are having dinner with your cousins. Sit down.”

Sascha did not excuse herself right away. Nor did she take her seat.

She told Floribeth everything. The matriarch held her silence until the very end.

“You won’t survive two weeks with a shop in the Heart District.” Floribeth said coolly, despite the furious set of her jaw. “You don’t know how many times I’ve tried to open a branch there. The landlords are scum. They only cater to the old Vesuvian families.”

When Sascha tried to defend herself, Beth only spat, “Who cares if things have changed since then! People see a young, smart woman trying to start something for herself – it’s like a bell to call the wolves. Trust me, that will never change. Just you watch, Sascha. They will come out of nowhere and try to take what you have. There will be break-ins. People will try to rob you.”

At this point, Sascha was fed up. “Then I’ll buy a gun!”

When she tried to leave the table, Floribeth stood up too.

“What about Solomon? Think of how much your brother needs you. You would leave him? Like Honore left the two of you?”

Honore didn’t leave us. You drove him away!

But Sascha didn’t rise to the bait. Instead she let the scowl dissolve from her face as she turned to Solo and took up his hand in hers.

Looking into her brother’s identical midnight gaze, which was shiny with unshed tears of pride, Sascha said, “Once upon a time, that would have worked. But I’m too old to fall for that now. Solo,” she covered his scarred brown hand with her own, “go see a doctor. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

Beth’s self control had all but crumbled. She gripped her wine glass like it was Sascha’s throat and growled, “You will never be welcome back here. You’ve made your choice.”

Sascha looked at Floribeth and declared, “I’m not abandoning Solo or this family. I’m just moving out.”

Beth snarled as she hurled the rest of her wine at Sascha’s face.

Several things happened at once. Solo shouted at Floribeth. Jaslene and April immediately shot to their feet and corralled the children out of the dining hall. Servants rushed to clear the table of the soiled cloth as if nothing were at all amiss.

The only ones who hadn’t moved were Floribeth and Sascha. The latter’s eyes burned from the white wine, but she forced them to stay open to counter her mother’s glare.

“Get out of my sight.”

Solo tried to intervene, but Floribeth roared at him to stay out of it. Sascha collected herself and reassured her brother one last time before turning her back on her mother and exiting the dining hall.

***

A few days later, Sascha was at the pawn shop, purchasing a handgun.

It wasn’t the one she really wanted, but it was what she could afford, so she brought it to the counter.

The owner looked her up and down and pursed his lips. “You know how to use one of these things?”

Despite his higher seat at the elevated desk, Sascha leveled her gaze with him. Though she did not inherit Floribeth’s honey coloring in the eyes, the look she gave the shop owner was just as haughty and knife-like.

“If I ask for a demonstration, is that an extra charge?”

She arched an expectant eyebrow. The shop owner cleared his throat as he leaned over and started pointing to the different parts of the short revolver. He spoke fast and didn’t leave room to check for her understanding.

Sascha nodded, holding back the urge to ask him to slow down and repeat some things. She left with her dignity intact, but hoping that she would never have to use the gun in the first place.

Her first night in the shop was cold. It had been raining all day and at night a monstrous thunderstorm rolled in during the evening.

Sascha lay on her mattress with a thin knitted sheet wrapped tightly around her body. She hadn’t set up her bedframe yet or unpacked any of her warmer clothes. There was no heat for her building yet. She would call the people to fix it in the morning.

In the meantime, she shivered with the rest of her shop in the middle of the thunderstorm.

It had to be around 2 AM before she actually started to feel herself lose consciousness when…

BANG.

Sascha’s eyes shot open. Was it the thunder? She had been hearing the clouds clash all night. How could she be jolted like this?

BANG. BAM. BAMBAMBAM. BANG!

Sascha scrambled to her feet and raced down her tiny staircase onto the main floor of the empty shop. Someone was trying to get in, she was sure of it now.

The oculist rummaged through her only drawer until she found the short revolver that she had purchased earlier that day. Her numb fingers moved clumsily over the shiny metal as she tried to load the chamber.

BAMBAMBAMBAMABAMBAM–

“Crap. Crap.”

Once Sascha had the gun loaded she shuffled to the front door where all the noise was coming from. Lifting her gun, she screamed at the wood, “This is private property! If you don’t leave, I’ll–”

[Please.]

Sascha stumbled backwards as a damp blade of grass entered her skull through her ear.

[I’m hurt. I can’t stand up.]

The sensation died in her brain.

Sascha lowered her gun and wrenched open the door.

Her magic read the individual’s vitals faster than she could take in their appearance. Whoever loomed over her was soaked to the bone and staggered without an invitation into her shop.

She caught a pair of dark eyes over a nearly shattered set of round lenses.

“My glasses are broken,” the stranger croaked. Clearly, he was too delirious from all the blood he had already lost.

“We fix glasses here,” Sascha said, her voice quivering slightly. “But you also have a hole in your lung.”

The customer coughed.

“Fuck.”

He coughed again and this time blood came up with it.

Sascha screamed as he fell forward onto her. Her finger twitched on the trigger. The gun went off, but into the ceiling.

She had managed to dodge the customer. The rain was still pouring. The thunder and the lightning carried on.

And now Sascha had a man dying on the floor of her new shop.

#i guess there's going to be a part 4 now #the arcana #sascha the gunslinger #sun bai the psychic #solo the seamstress #floribeth de la vega #abuse cw #blood cw #my writing

[the-melting-world]

Don't Call Me Daughter: The Making of a Gunslinger | Pt. 2

photo credits: shopbarnabyjack.com (no photographer or model listed, product item discontinued)

Miniseries Masterlist

Music: "Daughter" by Pearl Jam

cw: none

~ 2k words

While Solo and Floribeth try to negotiate with some clients, Sascha reminisces on the days when her father would visit and bring gifts back from the Carnivals across the sea…

Honore leapt down from the mantle and brandished his black glistening cloak over one shoulder.

“Okay. Your turn now, Saschi.”

Sascha swallowed nervously and glanced in Solo’s direction. Her twin brother was perched on one of Floribeth’s rare Esmeraldi sculptures. Normally, Solo and Sascha were never allowed in this part of the house. But their mother had allowed Honore to watch over them for the day while she ran errands around the city for her new bridal business.

And when Honore was in charge, he let his children play however and wherever they pleased.

Solo hummed lightly from where he balanced, hands moving fast over a veil nanay had instructed him to complete the detailing on before she returned. Sascha’s twin looked up from his handiwork and offered a sympathetic smirk.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t know how to talk like a robber.”

Honore laughed as he swooped his cloak over Sascha’s head and spun her around in the brief wash of glimmering darkness. “Come now, Saschi. Midnight Robbers don’t fear!”

Sascha spread her hands over her head and ducked out from under his cloak. “But Honore, I don’t know if I can do it.”

Honore’s gap-toothed grin didn’t falter. “You’ve seen the pictures of the Midnight Robber and read the books I brought back for you, right?”

Sascha wrung her hands and nodded. She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but Honore’s grin widened some more. “Then you can do it! Remember, be boastful and brush off all the negative stuff. Act like you don’t care if the sky is falling!”

He unhooked his cape and set it about her shoulders while she gathered up the courage to speak. Solo slowed down in his sewing, throwing curious glances in their direction.

Once Honore backed up and gave an encouraging nod, Sascha shrugged her shoulders and murmured, “H-how do I start again?”

Solo put down his needles and folded his hands in his lap. “Tell us your name!”

Sascha jumped a little, the glittery cloak slinking towards the floor. Then she swallowed and straightened up. “Um… Sascha Honore de la Vega is my name and uh…”

Honore nodded and whispered, “Remember. Be boastful!”

Sascha’s dark eyes turned thoughtful as her voice strengthened. “I eat lots of peanut butter sandwiches – with jelly!”

Honore kept up his vigorous nodding. Solo arched an eyebrow.

Sascha inhaled. “And I eat them…” She suddenly noticed how carefully Honore and Solo were holding their breaths.

“In. The... rain?”

Honore froze in his nodding, his dark eyebrows knitting together in order to process Sascha’s words. The tension in the air broke when Solo burst into uncontrollable laughter. Sascha turned and tried to defend herself, but it was drowned under her brother’s high pitched cackling, broken every so often to make room for a cough or a wheeze. With the way he threw his body left and right, it was a wonder he didn’t slide right off the sculpture.

Honore told Sascha to pay Solo no mind. “You’ll get better with practice, I promise.”

Solo finally stopped goofing off and held up his completed veil. He rejoiced, “Tatang! Look what I made.”

Honore stood up straight and frowned a little. “Oh, Sol. You know your mother doesn’t want you saying that. Call me Honore, like Saschi does.”

Solo wilted a little. “But I never get to see you and nanang isn’t here right now.”

If there was one thing Honore was good at, it was making his children feel better when not much else could. Once again, he got on one knee and coaxed Solo and Sascha in his direction. Once the twins were both gathered under his cloak, Honore tapped into his charm and sent it rippling through the glittery darkness draped over all three of their shoulders.

“Someday Sascha is going to be a wily, fearsome Midnight Robber. The best there ever was. And Solomon here is going to be a champion dressmaker destined to rival all the rest in Vesuvia. His creations will be so beautiful that customers’ hearts will ache at the very sight. And I know this because I’ve seen it written in the stars.”

“Which ones?” Solo asked as he donned Honore’s head with the delicate veil.

Honore smiled his signature gap-toothed smile and said, “These stars right here woven in my cloak.” He pulled the twins into a tight hug. “And right here in my heart, where the two of you live, no matter how close or how far apart we might be.”

***

Sascha struggled to hold onto the reverie in the presence of her mother’s newest clients, who were arguing over the expenses of their plans so far. It wasn’t the first time that the Vegas had worked with a couple who were torn on which direction to go. Usually that uncertainty got cleared up with a little extra push from Solo, but today the client that needed the most convincing was not leaving himself open to be charmed.

Like Sascha had expected, this client had been difficult enough to put Floribeth on edge. This was also evident in the way Solo had prepared for the meeting – hair styled into an elegant crown braid and adorned with an ornamental comb on the side where she kept it shorter. She wore one of Beth’s vintage trumpet dresses, creamy in color and so delicate, the applique appeared painted on Solo’s coppery skin.

Next to Floribeth’s iron expression, aggressive golden gaze, and immaculate professional attire, Solo seemed downright angelic. To the untrained eye, her expression was serene and her presence was borderline floating, but Sascha knew her sibling too well. Under the table, Solo had several swatches of material resting on her lap with her hands folded on top. No more than a few seconds could pass before one of Solo’s fingers started twitching. Sascha also noticed how Solo rolled her string of freshwater pearls between her knuckles – pearls that linked in a wide loop up her chest, once around her neck and back down to dangle in another loop by her elbow.

Solo was bathed in ancestral pearls belonging to the family’s past dressmakers, a line unbroken for hundreds of years. Floribeth was as steely and uncompromising as possible and Solo had made herself beautiful and proud.

Which meant this client was not going to come quietly.

“Sweetheart, this is all very nice, but it’s way over what we initially planned for our budget.”

The man speaking adjusted his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. His younger, more enthusiastic fiance, was doing his best not to whine. “Louie, please just hear them out. We can finance this whole thing. It’ll be worth it.”

The older gentleman shook his head. “It’ll take ages to pay off.”

Floribeth flashed Solo a command with her sharp, honey-toned gaze. Solo tentatively dipped her chin in understanding before smiling warmly at the clients across the oak table and pulling out the swatches from her lap.

“If I may, sir. I can go over some of the options we have for the linens that will be on display. I noticed you were concerned about the price of the decorations but I can assure you–”

Solo attempted to push the fabrics in the client’s direction, but she failed in her mission when he turned to her abruptly and said, “I beg your pardon, but no, you may not. Right now I’m speaking with my fiance.”

Solo let a wounded look slip before collecting herself and pulling the swatches back into her lap.

“Of course. My apologies.”

Her words went unheard as the couple fell back into arguing.

Sascha noticed that Solo wasn’t able to get the man to make contact with the charmed fabrics. It came as no surprise to Sascha that as soon Floribeth hissed some chastisement in Esmeraldi, Solo came back with just as much bite.

“What in the name of the gods were you doing when you had the other one with you yesterday?” Beth muttered. “We shouldn’t have to work so hard to get them both on the same page.”

Aggravated from holding onto her charms for so long, Solo countered, “How was I supposed to know that one of them would be so uptight? It’s not my fault Louie didn’t come to the garment fitting. What were you even thinking when you showed him our rates before I had a chance to talk to him?”

Beth bristled. “Believe me, I tried. But he said that he wasn’t going to set foot outside of the foyer until I showed him the prices!”

By now the clients were aware that Floribeth and Solo were talking about them even though they couldn’t understand a word. Sascha cleared her throat and jabbed Solo in the side with her elbow. There was an awkward pause eventually broken by the older client huffing and shaking his head.

“This is all too much. I need some air.”

His partner tried to keep him from leaving. “Honey, wait. Let’s just take some time to compare the quality on some of these linens. You haven’t even looked–”

Solo tried to follow his lead and push the fabrics in the client’s directions again, but Louie waved her off and disengaged himself from the table.

The younger fiance sighed. “He’ll come around. I promise.”

Solo once again hid her discomfort and offered a sympathetic smile. Beth didn’t look at all convinced. Sascha guessed that her mother was cutting her losses by now. As much success as the Vegas had in securing clients, there were ones who got away every now and then.

Sascha excused herself from the table.

The terrace where Vega Bridal & Events conducted most of its negotiations stretched and wrapped around the outside of several rooms. Sascha followed the same path that the client had taken and met him at the railing that overlooked the property’s pool.

The man glanced at her briefly before saying, “I didn’t even want a big wedding.” He took off his frames so they wouldn’t slide down his nose when he bowed his head. “I just wanted Peter to be happy, but he’s… it’s like ever since we started this whole process, he hasn’t listened to me once!”

Sascha gave his confession room to breathe. Then she held out her hand and said, “Can I see your glasses?”

The client shot her a puzzled look as he handed them over. Sascha carefully took them and reached behind her in order to unlatch the string of pearls from her neck. Then she used the narrow hook at the end of the necklace to adjust the handles on the glasses.

The client asked, “What is it that you do around here?”

I’m a glorified first aid kit.

“I keep the books. Today I’m filling in for my mother’s assistant, who’s tied up with another arrangement at a vineyard in Venterre.” After a beat, Sascha said, “My mother. Floribeth? She’s just going to keep pushing this until your fiance gets the wedding of his dreams. And you can be assured that it will play out exactly as he dreamt it. Better even.”

She handed the frames back to the client.

“When it comes to dream weddings, we’re the best there is.”

Louie’s expression went wry as he adjusted his glasses to his face. “So I’ve heard.” Something more pleasant took over when he realized they weren’t going to slip down again.

“Then you should have also heard that there is no such thing as a simple wedding when it comes to Vega Bridal. It’s going to be more than you ever wanted or nothing at all.” Sascha readjusted her pearls. “You can either pull out now and probably save a lot of money. Or you can write the checks and watch that smile never leave your fiance’s face. It’ll only grow and grow until you finally meet each other at the altar.”

The client closed his eyes and inhaled. “You’re right.”

Sascha pushed something in his direction before he could change his mind. “My business card.”

He took it hesitantly. “I’m pretty sure we already have your contact info.”

“It’s not for Vega Bridal & Events,” Sascha explained. “It’s Vega Optics. The first eye exam is free. I’m having my grand opening in three weeks.”

She left before her mother could come around the corner and see. The last thing Sascha needed was Floribeth catching wind of her daughter’s intentions to carry out her own plans that took her away from the main household.

#solo's fic will be next #the arcana #sascha the gunslinger #sascha de la vega #solo the seamstress #solo de la vega #floribeth de la vega #stefan honore #my writing

[the-melting-world]

Floribeth in the next Just Pray update…

#a very significant turning point for sascha #but u know shit has to get ugly first #floribeth de la vega #sascha de la vega #solo de la vega #bard shit

[the-melting-world]

Just to get a general idea, how would Sascha and their parents react to Solo being Javier, a 63-year-old man during the story routes?

ok this question almost killed me bc i was bombarded with several De La Vega reactions at once! 😆😆

Sascha - As long as Solo was genuinely happy (which, he says of course he would be!) she would welcome Javier into the family. During family dinners, she might ask him to hand over his glasses so she could tinker with them.

Floribeth - This woman always has marriage on the brain, so regardless of where her kids are at in their relationships, she'll want to know if (A) Javier would be committed to fathering children with Solo after marriage and (B) Would he agree to raise them in the main household. She would also want to know other things like, what could he contribute to the family business and if he has a criminal record. She'd ask for his tax returns, credit history, banking statements, stuff like that. In other words, age is not going to be one of Beth's concerns if Javi wants to be a part of her family in any capacity.

Jaslene and April - I know they're not Solo's parents, but their input would matter a lot to him. Jazz might be a little suspicious at first, but once again, like Sascha, she would welcome Javi with open arms as long Solo truly wanted to be with him. April, however, is definitely the most protective of Solo. Regardless of how Solo feels, it would take her some time to warm up to Javier. And that honestly has nothing to do with his age, but more so with Solo's romantic history. It's rare for him to openly date someone for longer than a few weeks. With enough time and interactions with Javier, I think April would eventually grow to accept him.

Stefan Honore - If he ever came back around to Casa Vega for a visit, he would be overjoyed for the two of them and absolutely delighted to meet and get to know Javier. He might also tease Solo about being attracted to older partners because, in Honore's words, like father, like son!

#oh man this got my brain going! #ty for motivating those solo brainworms #if javi can put up with this family #he and solo could go the distance #solo de la vega #solo the seamstress #sascha the gunslinger #sascha de la vega #stefan honore #floribeth de la vega #april de la vega #jaslene de la vega #javier navarro #my asks