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carelessgraces · 3 years

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@clpdwings said: five times of not getting along and one time they did for kaz! ( five times | accepting )

one.

The first time she meets Kaz Brekker, really meets him, she’s sporting a bite mark on her neck that he will not stop staring at.

Per Haskell sits at his desk, repeating the intelligence she’d brought back with her, and Kaz is listening, she knows, but he’s staring so intently at the bruise on her throat, almost as if he’s counting the individual teeth left visible in the mark, that she feels naked. It’s a strange sort of self-consciousness, one she rarely feels these days, a hangover from an adolescence spent in Fjerda. Astoria rubs a mindless hand over the mark, forcing her eyes back to Per Haskell.

He’s finished by now, and is looking at Kaz expectantly. The Barrel has taken some getting used to; Ketterdam is so alien to her, with its constant noise and bustle, tourists and students littering the streets, merchants and buskers in a constant battle for attention. The city is never quiet, not properly quiet. Djerholm had been bustling, but not like this, didn’t smell so obviously of piss and liquor and sweat when she walked down the streets — which were wider, much less crowded. She couldn’t hear the sounds of jingling coins in a fool’s pockets and rutting in back alleys and fistfights every few blocks.

She loves it.

The men are different, too. No one holds a door open for her unless they’re trying to impress her; no one rushes to gather something heavy from her arms and carry it for her; when she wears something cut low, no one bothers to avert their eyes. And Kaz is the strangest of them all: dressed like some unholy mimicry of a merchant, the cut of his clothes always sharp, something at once unremarkable enough to escape notice and flattering enough to distract the eye. She had been attracted to him for about five minutes after the first she saw him, until she saw that venomous glare, and then she’d been too uneasy to think of it again.

And now his eyes are on her neck, not with any sort of interest or desire but as if he’s estimating just how much force would be needed to break the skin and rip her throat out with his teeth should the need ever arise. It isn’t the potential for violence in him that frightens her so much as it is that she doubts he would be bothered by it, unless he spilled her blood on that pristine collar.

Kaz drags his gaze to Per Haskell, considering for a long moment before he says, “And we can trust her?”

“I spent eight months with him,” Astoria says, hand moving to her neck again. “He’s said plenty.”

“Yes,” Kaz drawls, “men say plenty when they’re trying to keep a woman in their bed, but that doesn’t mean it’s always true. Especially if that woman is openly affiliated with his rivals. Unless you think you’re the first pretty little fool too clever to be caught?”

“And men tell the truth when they’re flattered into believing that they’ve become the new center of a pretty little fool’s world.” Per Haskell had warned her about this, that Kaz could be infuriating, that Kaz would find her insecurities and vulnerabilities in a moment’s time and that he would poke and poke and poke just to see how far she could be pushed. She had smiled and said that she’d be on the lookout for it, but even now with it staring her in the face, she can’t help but rise to the bait.

Kaz gives her a withering look that feels almost like a slap across the face. “And what makes you think that he wasn’t trying to draw you in in the same way?”

“That’s exactly what he’s trying to do. But I’m doing it better, and we know because it’s my intel that saved you almost a million kruge this year alone, and everything I’ve told him has been calculated into that. Acceptable losses.”

He looks back to Per Haskell for confirmation, and Per Haskell nods. “You have your spider,” he says, “and I have mine.”

The comparison seems almost to offend Kaz, who looks Astoria over with a lip curled in distaste. Finally, he stands, one hand on his cane, the other held out for the papers on Per Haskell’s desk.

“Then if it’s good intel, we’ll handle it.”

“Yes, you will.” It’s a firm command, as if a reminder — the Dregs are my crew, boy, not yours. Astoria nearly shivers at that, but Kaz doesn’t react except to fold the papers and tuck them into his jacket.

Kaz spares a last glance toward her, eyes flickering down to her right forearm. “She has the crow and cup?” he asks Per Haskell.

“Yes,” Astoria snaps, “and you can speak to her directly.”

Beside her, Per Haskell shakes his head, amused by the bickering. He stands, resting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“Take Astoria with you — she’s useful in close quarters.”

“I don’t think we’ll need her on her back for this one.”

“He preferred me on top,” Astoria offers sweetly, though she’s glaring daggers, and Per Haskell only laughs.

“She’s Grisha. Good in a fight. Take her, just in case, and make sure Elzinger can see that bite. He’ll have a hell of a time explaining all of this to Geels.”

Kaz’s eyes fall on Astoria again, and he sighs, gesturing toward the door. Per Haskell taps her lightly on the back, an indication for her to do as she’s told — and, like a good little soldier, she obeys.

two.

She needs to practice her pickpocketing.

She’s functional, but occasionally clumsy, more reliant upon misleading a mark than nimble fingers. Per Haskell had pointed her to Kaz, much to both’s dismay, no doubt in an attempt to make them learn to work together. She’d sulked outside Per Haskell’s office when he’d told Kaz, and caught snippets of the conversation whenever Haskell moved too close to the door. ...useful for more than just securing shipments. I have another TIdemaker I can send to Novyi Zem, but you should learn to... if you like her or not, but I don’t want to waste an asset... your spider can only do so much at once and I have a perfectly useful one.

Per Haskell had opened the door at that, bringing an end to the discussion, and Kaz wasted no time in leaving the office. She could read the disdain in every line of his face, and it had almost amused her that the great Kaz Brekker had deigned to reveal his thoughts, all on her behalf. He’d stopped, looked at her, and then jerked his head irritably, gesturing for her to follow. She’d cast a despairing look at Per Haskell, who’d clapped her on the shoulder.

“Do what you’re told, girl,” he said, though there was no real heat in his voice, and Astoria obeyed before he could get angry with her.

Which is why she’s with Kaz now, trying to pay attention to what he’s telling her and failing miserably, caught up in the oppressive heat of Ketterdam’s so-called spring and her own self-indulgent misery. She’s managed to pick Jesper’s pockets, only because Jesper was being kind, and a few strangers; no one’s caught her as she’s done it, but Kaz has been able to point out every movement, every gesture, no matter how crowded the space between them or how far away he stands.

And if she must deal with him, then she will, at least, annoy him. Astoria toys with her own gloves — lace, covering her fingers and only part of her hand, the height of Ketterdam’s most recent shift in fashion and bought with, yes, pickpocketed money, thank you very much — and she lets out a hum. “Do you dislike all of Per Haskell’s indentures, or am I lucky?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Ooh, is it Grisha you have a problem with? That would be foolish, for you, to carry on a prejudice like that, especially when you know how valuable we are.”

Still nothing, though he’s starting to look as though he’s considering throwing her off the edge of the harbor when they get there.

“See, with all your judgment about Elzinger, I figured it was one of two things. First, that you want to fuck me yourself, and were bitter that you weren’t, but that was easy enough to rule out. Would have been very funny to me, though, if that’s all it was. Typical, nonsensical jealousy would have been beneath you.”

“How flattering,” he says dryly, but she pushes forward as though she doesn’t hear him.

“Second, you wish you’d thought of it yourself. Isolating Elzinger as a weak link and exploiting it by any means necessary. But I did it first, and it made you look slow on the uptake, and it gave Per Haskell a chance to catch up to you a bit.”

“You’ve found me out,” he drawls, monotonous. “I only wish it had been me to spread my legs for Elzinger, and now our love can never be.”

“Prude.”

“Heartbroken.”

Saints’ asses, he’s funny. She never would have guessed. Astoria lets out another little hum, and she folds her hands together primly, the very image of a respectable lady with her lace gloves and the high neck of her blouse and the careful curl of her hair. “There’s really no reason we shouldn’t get along.”

“Did you join the Dregs looking for friends, little runaway?”

“Absolutely. At night I go home to the Slat and I weep because not enough of you like me.”

“I think,” he says, and the worst part of it is that he says it so casually, as though he’s observing something unimportant and not peeling back every layer of armor she’s tried to build around herself, “you joined so that someone would be able to identify your body when you got yourself killed. You’re reckless. You’re half-suicidal. You want there to be consequences to someone else killing you, hence the indenture agreement — ” So he’s seen it. She’s not sure how to feel about that. ” — but you’re desperate to die for something. It makes you a liability. Learn how to survive this place or do us all a favor and stop wasting our time.”

He points to a couple, Ravkan tourists chattering excitedly, and he looks back at Astoria as though he hasn’t just torn up every last secret she’s ever kept.

“Them. Do it right, this time.”

They do it again, and again, until Kaz is satisfied enough to leave her be.

It’s not safe to walk the West Stave alone at night but she does it anyway; her anger at Kaz is enough to push her forward, though she can’t quite articulate why it infuriates her so much, to be laid bare before him in this way. She’d studied the Dregs before approaching them, and had chosen them specifically; she could have had it easy, with Pekka Rollins — no need to change her hair — and even the Black Tips or the Razorgulls would have taken her and found a good use for her.

But she’d chosen the Dregs for a reason — she’d chosen the Dregs in no small part because Kaz’s name was on everyone’s lips. Dirtyhands. Bastard of the Barrel. A monster, a demon, a creature out of nightmare. The sort of man you want willing to protect you. And there’s something horribly shameful about being seen without any sympathy, though she’s starting to wonder if she deserves any sympathy, or if he’s right.

Learn how to survive this place or do us all a favor and stop wasting our time.

She feels Elzinger’s hand on her shoulder. The night is humid and sticky and she almost feels as though she’s swimming; there’s no jacket protecting her, only the layer of her shirt to cut through, and then his knife is in her, and deep, piercing into her body just below her right kidney. He pulls the knife out; her ears are ringing, there’s something warm rushing down her back and she recognizes it only vaguely as her own blood, and he says something she can’t quite catch, and he hears Kaz Brekker.

Learn how to survive this place or do us all a favor and stop wasting our time.

She twists her right arm to press her hand over the wound, and with a twitch of her fingers the blood begins to slow and clot. She reaches out with her left arm until she’s grabbed Elzinger’s face, and she pulls him close enough to kiss.

Learn how to survive this place.

She grins when she feels the flesh blister beneath her hands, and she tips her head to the side, and she squeezes as tightly as she can. “Sweetheart,” she murmurs. “make sure you mean it when you kill a woman,” and she releases his face only when he screams, catching his wrist with her bloodstained hand when he moves to stab her again.

When she releases him she shoves him back, watching with satisfaction as he raises his shaking hands to his face to feel the extent of his burns. Just a little bit, not enough to kill, but certainly enough to leave a mark. She’s not sure what boiling only a little blood only a little bit does to a body, but she’s intrigued to find out. She’ll have to keep an eye on him. Astoria peels off her bloodied gloves and drops them in Elzinger’s lap, and she leaves him there without another word.

Survive, says Kaz, and for a moment she wishes he could see her.

three.

“Matthias tells me you told him not to come for me.”

“I did.”

“But you knew he’d come for me anyway.”

He doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know whether to thank him or scream.

“Damn it, Brekker.”

“You’re too eager to die.”

“It’s not about dying.”

“Dress it up however you want, call it selflessness and loyalty and love, but you’re still useless dead.”

It’s the closest she thinks he’ll ever come to anything resembling a kind word to her, and she’s horrified to find that she’s moved by it. Her voice sounds unsteady, almost wet, when she speaks.

“I know. I know that.” What else is there to say? She’s working on it? She’d thought she’d moved past it, but here she is, trying to sort through why she’s so shocked to have lived through Fjerda, when she’d promised herself once that Fjerda would never have the privilege of taking her life?

“It’s enough. Come back to Ketterdam willing to survive or don’t bother coming back.”

She’s never hated anyone more in her life. She would be lost without him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He lets out a snort, turning his back to her. “Apologize to Helvar,” he says as he walks away. “He’s the one who had to come get you.”

( But, she thinks, maybe Kaz would have come for her, too. )

four.

How did he handle things?

“Very well, sir. Better than I might have expected. He was calm and levelheaded throughout.” ( She doesn’t mention the dangerous panic on the Ferolind, when they thought they would lose Inej. ) “He kept to the plan without hesitation, and when he had to improvise, he did it effectively.” ( She doesn’t mention how often the plan fell through and they had to come up with something new on the spot, or how dangerous it was for her, in particular. ) “He works well leading a team. He was very receptive to our concerns.” ( She doesn’t mention the Ferolind. )

Did he have any trouble with one of mine going with him?

“Not at all. He was understandably cautious to introduce a new element into a functional team’s dynamic, but he understood the necessity of having someone there to represent your interests.” ( She doesn’t mention that the functional team is an inner circle that extends beyond Kaz’s precious Wraith, that the functional team could easily topple Per Haskell’s control of the Dregs, or that she’d help them. ) “There was no trouble beyond the initial adjustment period, and even that was mild.” ( She doesn’t mention that Kaz threatened to throw her overboard. )

Kaz is waiting for her when she’s finished with Per Haskell, and he greets her with a huff of humorless laughter. “Do you have to practice lying like that, or does it come naturally?”

“Every morning I wake up, I brush my hair, I lace myself up, and I tell myself ten lies in the mirror until it feels natural. Were you waiting for Per Haskell?”

“No. You. Walk.”

And she does — less because she likes following Kaz’s orders than because she can’t think of a good reason not to. They’re silent until they get out to the floor of the Crow Club, through the patrons and out into the humid night air. When they’re a fair distance from the door, he holds a folded piece of paper between his index and middle fingers for her to take.

“What’s this?”

“I can’t give over more shares while Rollins has any, but once we have them back, a percentage will go to you, as part of your take.”

Astoria looks up at him sharply, taking the paper; when her eyes fall to it she sees that it’s a contract, legalese she barely understands, but there it is, a percentage ( however small ), set aside for her to purchase, once the shares have been bought back from Pekka Rollins. Slowly, her lips curl up in a smile, and when she looks back up at Kaz, she’s sure she looks as pleased as she feels.

“Thank you,” she says, because it’ll be better received than I could kiss you right on that terrible mouth of yours, you glorious little bastard. He lets out a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, though he seems a little wary, as if he can hear the unspoken words in her tone.

“Don’t thank me. We had an agreement, and you carried out your part reliably enough.”

“Careful, Brekker, or I’ll think you’re starting to like me.”

He snorts, raising his eyebrows. “Perish the thought. I’ll need you tonight — we’re sorting out a plan, and I want you there in case Nina isn’t able to do her job.”

Nina. Sweet, vibrant Nina, whose battle with parem seems to have drained the life right out of her; she barely eats, she barely laughs, she barely flirts. ( Astoria has been trying to forget the way Nina lashed out at them all on the Ferolind, in the throes of her withdrawal; she’d brushed off the insults aimed at her, but had heard enough of what was said to the others. There’s some fight in her, at least, and Astoria is grateful for that much. )

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, but yes, of course. I’ll be able to help however you need.” And she pauses, frowning. “Do you think she won’t be able to handle it?”

“I’d rather be prepared than overconfident.”

“Fair enough — but won’t it undermine her confidence, if she knows you have someone there to take over if she’s unsteady?”

“I don’t particularly care about her confidence. I care about the job’s success. If she wants to sort out her feelings, she’s welcome to find a parent or a priest.” Kaz’s expression is inscrutable, as always, though there’s a mocking edge to his voice now, and it makes Astoria clutch the paper harder. So much for starting to like me; he looks at me like I’m a troublesome child he can’t shake. “There’s no winning with you, is there? First you’re sore that you’re not a real part of the team, and now you’re tripping over yourself trying to spare everyone’s feelings when you’re offered the chance.”

“She sacrificed a lot for us, Kaz. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to be a little concerned about her.”

“Mm. The same concern you felt, I’m sure, when you told her to, what was it? Find a way to watch that tongue or I’ll cut it out?”

“That was different.” But her cheeks are hot with shame; she hadn’t been proud of the threat, but it had happened all the same, when the craving for parem doused Nina’s tongue in poison.

“Yes, how could I forget? You were defending your drüskelle’s honor.”

“It’s — ”

“I don’t care. You want in? Earn it. This is how you earn it. Mind your manners, don’t ask stupid questions, and do as you’re told. Be at the Black Veil tonight, by midnight.” The Black Veil?

He turns his back to her and walks away without another word, and Astoria scowls after him — but she grips the contract tighter in her hands, and she makes no plans to argue.

five.

“On one condition.”

Astoria’s eyes flicker towards Nina in surprise; it’s rare someone’s fool enough to try and negotiate with Kaz. It’s not something she’s often willing to try, and she’s the biggest fool of them all.

Kaz drags his gaze to Nina and arches one eyebrow in that infuriating way of his. “This is not a negotiation.”

“Everything is a negotiation with you, Brekker. You probably bartered your way out of the womb. If I’m going to do this, I want us to get the rest of the Grisha out of the city.”

“Forget it. I’m not running a charity for refugees.”

“Then I’m out.”

“Fine. You’re out.” And Astoria knows what’s coming next, Kaz’s dark eyes flickering towards her, ignoring the look of anger on Nina’s face, the way she opens her mouth to argue.

At Astoria’s side, Matthias stiffens, as if anticipating a fight, and Astoria folds a hand carefully over his and squeezes gently.

She hesitates, and then, before he can ask, she clears her throat. “I can do it.” She’s not half so skilled as Nina when it comes to calming the blood, but she can make do. And more than that, there’s a fury building in her at the thought of being chased out of another home, of being hunted again. She knows Kaz well enough by now to know that he can expect to rely on her anger; it is the only thing she has left of her mother, of the girl in the snow, a family heirloom she keeps close to her heart. Nina whips her head around, her expression caught somewhere between anger and betrayal, but Astoria doesn’t look away from Kaz.

“Fine. A distressed Fjerdan, new to the city, looking for work in the warehouse district.”

“Astoria,” Nina warns, and Astoria tears her gaze away from Kaz to look coldly at Nina.

“I’m tired of running, Nina. Aren’t you? How long until someone else comes looking to kill us?” Astoria’s jaw clenches without her noticing, and Matthias turns his hand up under hers to lace their fingers together and squeeze back, as if to try and calm her. She’s just a little too far gone. “How many of those refugees are going to end up Second Army conscripts? Save a few Grisha just to throw them at military conflict, where they’ll, what, die in a nice coat, carrying out a foreign king’s commands?” Carrying on the ever-present war with Fjerda? She’ll rail against her homeland until she draws her last breath, but it makes her no less protective.

“That’s not what it’s about. It’s about saving lives.” Nina’s voice sounds almost dangerous, and Astoria leans forward, Matthias gripping her hand even tighter as she does.

“Enough.” Kaz’s voice cuts clearly through the argument, and he turns his cold eyes on Nina. “You’ll still get your share of the money for your work on the Ice Court job, but I don’t need you on this crew.”

“No,” said Inej quietly. “But you need me.”

And that’s enough to quell the dissent, Inej’s interference and the strength of her unwavering gaze. Nina turns deliberately from Astoria, whose jaw has yet to unclench, and Matthias releases Astoria’s hand in favor of winding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer, as if to comfort. She doesn’t escape the way Kaz’s eyes flicker up to them, or the twist of his lips at the sight of Astoria’s continued anger.

“Do you think this makes me a Crow, now?” she murmurs dryly to Matthias in Fjerdan, voice soft enough not to be overheard amidst the conversation, and Matthias lets out a humorless chuckle. “Being willing to turn my back on old friendships for the sake of the great Brekker masterplan?”

“I think that’s the initiation ritual,” Matthias mutters back, and it prompts a smile, at least, her clenched jaw relaxing.

It occurs to her how unbelievably stupid it is to want his approval — demjin, says a voice in her head that sounds like Matthias’, but there’s a fondness there that’s entirely Astoria. In another world, they might have been friends. Here, now, she’s not sure it’ll ever be possible, but the weight of what if hangs in the air around him.

Kaz steps out to get a breath of fresh air, and Astoria follows quietly; he looks as though he expected this, and she leans against the wall of a mausoleum, arms crossed over her chest.

“You couldn’t have known Nina would make that threat. You couldn’t have known about the kidnappings. But it feels like you were prepared for that all the same.”

“I’m prepared for most things.”

“I’m starting to see that.” Astoria hesitates, then — “Jesper’s leaving. Going back to Novyi Zem with his father. Wylan wants out. Nina’s going to want to leave too, if it’s not safe to stay. It’ll be her chance to go back to Ravka and the Second Army. Inej is going to pay off her indenture, isn’t she?”

“If you have questions about what Inej is doing, then you should ask Inej. Am I her keeper?”

Yes. Even she can see how he looks at her, when he thinks no one is looking. She can’t hear heartbeats but she can hear the movement of blood in the body, and it has much the same end result. “Why don’t you expect me to leave?”

“Where will you go? Back to Fjerda, with Helvar in tow? You’ll both be killed within a year. You wouldn’t last in Ravka, either. He’s not going to tolerate the Wandering Isle or Shu Han, when both are so dangerous for you. And you’d get bored in Novyi Zem.”

Damn him, but he’s right.

“No home but this one, pigeon. Where will you go?” he asks again, and Astoria uncrosses her arms, only to fist her hands in her skirt. “You’ll stay in Ketterdam, sell more years to Per Haskell. You might go back to Fjerda once or twice. Helvar loves a mission. But you’ll come back to Ketterdam every time, because you’ve put the Barrel in your blood.”

Why is he always right?

“And what if I’d had a conscience?”

He laughs at that, a sharp, almost feral bark. “Astoria,” he says, and she thinks that might be the first time he’s used her name, “when have you ever cared about someone else more than yourself?”

“The Ice Court.”

“Ah, that’s right. Your drüskelle makes you soft — and if I ever need to ask you to double-cross him, then I’ll worry. But you’d let every Grisha in this city burn if it meant your survival, and no amount of lovesick sacrifice will change that about you. Conscience gets you killed. You’re not that stupid.”

She hates how well he knows her. She hates how well he understands her, in ways no one else could — not Inej, whom she admires; not Jesper, who makes her laugh; not Nina, who hears her; not Wylan, who sees her. Not even Matthias, who loves her.

But Kaz Brekker understands her. Kaz Brekker sees through her. Kaz Brekker could crack open her skull and make a map of her brain, could split open her chest and make a map of her heart, with terrifying clarity. There’s the self-preservation. There’s the selfishness. There’s the ambition. There’s the greed. He’s right; the Barrel is in her blood now, feasting on the foundation of rage her mother had given her when she was just a girl.

She feels exposed. She feels furious. She wants to wrap her hands around his neck. She wants to run as far as she can. She wants to tell him that she is tired of life wearing a choke-chain, but that if anyone must be on the other end of it, she hopes it’s always him. What a mortifying intimacy to share with someone, she thinks, cheeks coloring in the dark, almost like a twisted sort of love. A brother she never imagined, the monster under her childhood bed come to teach her how to shoot straight and pick a man’s pocket.

He watches her impassively for a moment more before turning back toward the crypt. She has to try twice before she can manage to speak.

“I’ll stay,” she says, because of course she’ll stay. “And when the others go, I’ll still be here — but this has to go both ways. You have to be as willing to protect my interests as I am to protect yours.”

He turns back to face her, expression still painfully neutral, and then he says, as easily as if he were giving her directions through the West Stave, “I found your mother. Where she is, the name she’s using, how she’s been. Get us through this and I’ll tell you everything, and not a moment before.”

She lets out a sickly laugh, chokes on it, as he heads back into the mausoleum, and she remains leaned against the wall, fingers pressed to her lips and staring at the sky, until Matthias comes to fetch her.

Nina still won’t look at her. She finds she doesn’t mind it this time.

...and one.

She’s never been so pleased with a broken nose and a gash across her cheek, but there’s some undeniable relief in knowing that, for once, she and Kaz are on the same page.

He’s been watching her closely, and she’d initially chalked it up to his distrust. No doubt looking for any way in which she falters or fumbles. She wonders now if he’d been watching to see if she could do this, if she could be trusted to get them in. If she could handle this, in particular, this greatest fear. Kaz, in his drüskelle uniform, looks as fierce and terrifying as always, but Matthias will draw attention, and that is a danger. ( A danger to all of them, but a danger to him specifically, and it’s become clearer and clearer that she cannot, will not, tolerate such a thing. )

“Anyone have a handkerchief?” she asks pleasantly, and Matthias shakes his head and Kaz raises his eyebrows, and Astoria sighs, because this would be easier with something to muffle the sound. She supposes biting her lip bloody will have to do, and she takes in a deep breath before she wraps her right fist around the middle and ring finger of her left hand and yanks back as hard as she can. The crack of her bone is audible, and Matthias looks as though he might be sick, but Kaz almost looks impressed.

“Feeling theatrical?” he asks dryly, and Astoria, face white with pain and chest heaving, takes in a shaking breath.

“The drüskelle bind our hands so we can’t use our power,” she says, voice strained. “Particularly dangerous drüsje see their hands or fingers broken, so that even if we can manage something without all that gesturing, we’re not a threat. It’s an ever-honorable tradition of giving us a fair shot.”

Kaz listens with the mild interest of someone hearing a weather report, and he only says, “Shame we tailored your hair.”

Matthias almost moves to touch Astoria, but seems to think better of it, and he whirls on Kaz instead. “Do you often strike unarmed women?” he says, his voice nearly a snarl, and Kaz shrugs.

“Less a woman than a weasel,” he says, “and she did ask.”

Weasel. She hasn’t heard that one before. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Kaz was starting to like her. For his part, Matthias looks rather as though he wishes they’d left him in Hellgate, and he takes a few steps away from them and shakes his head as if trying to shake loose his knowledge of what’s to come.

And for a moment, they’re alone, Kaz watching as she tries to tangle her hair with one working hand. A better man might ask if she was sure, might encourage her to be patient until they find another way in. And perhaps there is another way in, but this saves them precious time. ( Hadn’t she realized it, on the Ferolind? Her role was, has been, will be, as a sacrifice. The six of them will make it out, Kaz and his precious Crows, but she thinks there’s some poetry to it. Dying here, as much on her own terms as anything can be. )

Her stomach is turning somersaults but she clears her throat and meets Kaz’s eyes. She wonders, stupidly, if he’ll miss her. She’ll miss him, him and his stupid haircut and his horrible smirk and his cruel hands in their leather gloves, for whatever time she has left. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out, and she clears her throat to try again.

“Spare me the goodbyes,” Kaz sighs, and Astoria shakes her head.

“Don’t let him come back for me.”

Of all the things Kaz might have been expecting, that doesn’t seem to be on the list, though he only shows it with a raise of his eyebrows.

“It’ll waste time. And wherever they’re taking me, it’s going to be well-guarded, and very, very hard to reach. If he goes in, there’s a very good chance he won’t come back out. Do not let him come back for me. Tell him whatever you have to to make it happen, but — I think you owe me, just this once.” Astoria’s eyes flicker towards Matthias and she knows she softens when she sees him. “If I’m doing this, I need to know he gets out of this godforsaken country alive.”

She expects an outburst like on the Ferolind. She wonders, for a moment, if this is why he’d encouraged her to flirt with Matthias, but that seems a bit much, even for Kaz. When she looks back at him, though, he only nods.

“He’ll make it out,” Kaz says, and she doesn’t push for the words. The deal is the deal. She’s not Kerch anyway; it doesn’t mean much to her. Besides, just this once, she trusts Kaz Brekker to do the right thing.

Matthias returns, a look of grim determination on his face, and he looks towards Astoria. “I cannot change your mind?” he asks, and Astoria shakes her head.

“It’s time.” Kaz’s voice is clear and certain, and Astoria takes in a long, slow breath before she nods.

“It’s time,” she agrees, and she lets them guide her as she takes her last steps.

#clpdwings #clpdwings ( kaz brekker )#(yes this is also a tag drop)#ii. i forgot softness because it did not serve me. ( kaz brekker )#i. here's the truth from my red lips. ( answers )#v. i savor bitterness. it is born of experience. it is the privilege of one who has truly lived. ( grishaverse | ketterdam )#tw: suicidal ideation #(dialogue in number five between kaz - nina - inej taken directly from crooked kingdom)

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ramblinganthropologist · 4 years

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N7 Challenge Day 2 - Science

Summary: If you think about it, Shepard is really Cerberus’ fucked up little science project. If Frankenstein’s monster got to complain a little about conditions, then Miranda’s can whine she left some nonessential parts in.

---

As much as he hated what Cerberus had done with the place... maybe the top floor being his wasn't so bad after all.

Alistair sighed as the door slid shut behind him. Up here, he was finally alone. Nobody was staring at him like he had two heads or was gaping at the fact he should have been 6 feet under or in a jar. Better yet, nobody was asking him how he was going to stop the Collectors from abducting another human colony or what the next move is. Here he could relax and breathe a little.

Breathing... right.

“Ugh...” His shirt dropped to the floor as he examined his appearance in the mirror. There were new bruises, not quite broken ribs. He had been lucky this time according to a bemused Doctor Chakwas. She had told him before to go in for the surgery, but he hadn't gotten the chance before dying. Now...

He prodded his binder in the mirror. “I still have no idea why she kept these. Don't see how having a flat chest would make me any worse.”

Something something, exactly as he was supposed to be? It was bullshit if you asked Alistair. Of course, nobody was asking him. They probably figured it was good enough that he was alive. Why bother dealing with worrying about it, Commander Shepard was alive again.

Commander Shepard was also risking broken ribs every mission, thank you very much. Maybe the magic science bullshit wizards should have considered that when they were putting him back together.

He let both the matter and his binder drop, though one took a bit more effort. After changing, it was back to an oversized hoodie as he settled in to get some work done. On the bright side, he could breathe. Downside... everything else.

Hi, gender dysphoria. Apparently you were crucial to saving humanity or something.

He lost himself to his work, reviewing records and checking on possible colonies, for the better part of an hour. Alistair would have stayed longer – there was plenty of reports to sift through – but someone was knocking at his door. Like, actually knocking and not using their omni-tool to let him know they were there.

So... that narrowed things.

“Be right there, Bo!” His new joints didn't creak as he rose, but there was plenty of time for that. Besides, he made up for that with the glowing exposed implants sticking out of his jaw and forehead. It wasn't a pretty sight – though it may have been improved if he could've hacked the color to blue. As a pink-toned ginger, red was kind of overkill. Besides, blue was his favorite color and they were his damn life sustaining implants. If anyone got to pick the color, it was him.

But... he wasn't allowed to try changing the color. Something about maybe killing him. He had kind of lost focus during that conversation.

Speaking of – the door slid open, revealing his XO on the other side. Bo looked about as comfortable on the new Normandy as he was, and she cast a wary eye around as she entered the room. Then she looked towards the floor, and where his clothing still lay. Her lip curled at the sight of her binder, and he swore he saw murder in her eyes.

“You gotta be kidding me, they didn't deal with that while you were dead?!”

Alistair, despite everything, emphatically groaned. “No, they fucking didn't! I'm pretty sure I've got everything that came with the original hardware!”

They both shared a scowl as Bo took a seat on his bed. As she did, she tossed him her omni-tool. Unsurprisingly, it was broken again. What did catch him off guard was that it was the same model she had been using before he died.

There had to have been easy models between 2183 and 85...

“You've made it idiot-proof, don't think too hard about it.” Bo was still scowling. “Remind me to punch Miranda for her weird little science experiment when I see her again. She spent all that time on you and she couldn't make a few modifications?”

Alistair rolled his eyes as he started to tinker with the omni-tool. “With pleasure. If she could add an eye, I don't see why she couldn't figure out testicles. They didn't even need to work, I don't plan on having children.”

His XO snickered at that. “Not that you could have kids with a turian anyway. Pretty sure even Mordin couldn't get levo and dextro to gel.”

The mere mention of turians caused Alistair's face to turn scarlet. He ducked his head in the excuse of examining the details on the broken omni-tool. The screen was cracked, but he had a replacement for that. Mostly, it just looked like she had knocked the wires loose – probably punched someone a little too hard. His reinforcements probably came loose over two years. Easy fix.

Maybe he should just design a whole new one for her...

“Thinking about Garrus, huh?”

There was a teasing tone to Bo's voice that made his cheeks even redder. Alistair shot her a blank look as he reached for a small device in his toolbox. Even after the Normandy exploded, it was good to know someone had salvaged it.

After all, what would he do without his trusty work vibrator?

“I can't believe you actually still use that.” Bo's tone was flat as she watched him apply the vibration to check for weak spots. “You're such a fucking nerd.”

Alistair snickered as he looked up from his work. “Given what I'm working with -”

“Gross. Please tell me you got another one of those.”

No, but it wasn't like he got a lot of private time given how often he had to fix something or save somebody from certain doom so it was kind of low on his list of priorities. Besides, being zombie Jesus in N7 armor made that kind of purchase... awkward.

Like, who expects the risen Commander Shepard to walk in looking for a vibrator anyway?

“I don't need one for actual use right now, thankfully.” He whistled low once he spotted the problem. “Wow, you sure knocked this one loose. Another centimeter and the whole thing would have been a total loss.”

Bo sighed in relief. “Good thing I didn't hit that one krogan twice then.”

Of course she'd hit a krogan. She was always doing that.

“Next time, just use your biotics.” Alistair shook his head as he started the repairs. Honestly, it wasn't the ideal situation. He had picked his hoodie for size and comfort, but the problem was the sleeves were a little large on him and had a place he could stick his thumb through if he felt like it. Normally that was fine – hiding his hands was a plus sometimes – but it didn't work when he was soldering.

And... ok, maybe a hoodie with hamster ears wasn't the best tech wear.

At least Bo didn't laugh when he rolled up his sleeves and kept working. He didn't mind her presence either as he made sure the wires weren't going anywhere once she started swinging again. Something about having her on his bed, watching him work, was comforting. In a sense, it was home. Though Cerberus had tried, they hadn't quite figured out how to hit that for him in their mad dash to convince him to work for them. Just the fact they had left him a uterus was a black mark they were never getting rid of, the rest was just icing on the shit cake of why he would eventually be stealing their ship and hightailing it back to the Alliance with all their info.

What, Frankenstein's monster caused a little havoc in his day. Wasn't he entitled to do the same? He hadn't exactly been asked to be brought back to save the galaxy.

“Just a little more and -” the screen glowed to life under his hands. “There we go, it's working again!”

Almost immediately, a message started playing. “Commander Shepard, if you could meet me in-”

Shit. He knew that voice. One eye landed on his XO – she had already tensed up. Then there was something about reports needing to be filed and she might have been behind on doing that? Honestly, no surprises there; Bo was analog, so computers tended to break around her. They'd probably been doing it even more with the Cerberus agent on her back about it.

If he wasn't careful, she was going to break the omni-tool, and he was out of spare parts...

“Fuck off, Miranda. I'll get to it once the computer's fixed.” Bo reached over to shut off the link with surprising delicacy. She must have seen the fear in his eyes and held pity over his rebuilt form. “You think she'd get I hate her.”

He shrugged his shoulders as he started to clean. “Maybe she enjoys having an angry lesbian hating her.”

“Then she should love having a pissed off twink despising her.”

Despise – that was a good word. He'd accept it. It got close enough in his mind to how he actually felt as he swept away the remains of his repair project. With a clean work space, it was easier to think. Not that it was ever completely easy, but it helped.

Though... did he hear something about a broken computer?

“So do you want me to fix that or what?”

Bo responded by practically picking him up and depositing him on the bed. “I want you to get some fucking sleep. You look like death.”

“I slept for 2 years-”

“Then a few more hours won't bother you.” She shot him a look. “You can't fix everything. It'll be there when you get up.”

Alistair wanted to argue, but it was impossible. When Bo got like that, he didn't stand a chance. Most times, he didn't even try. Mostly he was just annoyed she had picked him up like he was his own damn hamster.

He was a fully grown man, damn it...

“Alright, I'll swing by when I wake up.”

Bo nodded and started to retreat. “See you when you do. I'm going to go punch Miranda in the face for the uterus bullshit.”

Honestly, he wasn't sure if she was being serious as the door closed around him and the light dimmed. EDI had probably been listening in by then. It kept him from having to get up as he pulled off his hoodie and crawled under the blanket.

That was something else he would have to see to when he woke up. In a weird way, it was ironically appropriate. After all, Miranda's monster was going to have to go save Miranda from the angry villagers.

That, or Miranda's monster could just sleep a little longer. Being brought back from the dead was exhausting work. Maybe a nap wasn't such a bad idea after all...

#n7month #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Alistair Shepard #Bo Peep Shepard

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mysticalmistake · 7 years

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spooky request!!~~ 🎃 rfa + minor trio seeing fem!MC in a sexy halloween costume ;) like MC dresses up as a kitty and or a maid, lmao!! could be fluffy or nsfw, ur choice!! 💗💗

This was asked so many times. So much pressure to make it good. Also, this is all semi-NSFW. There’s no fluff. Sorry? :D I haven’t done this in a while but just because this getting so long after Zen it’s going under a “Read More”. Sometimes that causes issues on mobile, if it is copy and paste the link and open it in a browser. That should fix it!

I’m gonna front with you guys. Vanderwood and Saeran aren’t in this because I had everyone but them done yesterday, and thought “Oh, I do them this [Halloween] morning and then post it]”. Then a lot of work and personal relationship drama happened, and I didn’t get home until 7 am this morning. I’m oversharing because I feel bad because I really wanted to use the morning to write more Halloween asks and I have to leave for work soon and it’s not gonna work out that way. And I’m sad it won’t. I’m sorry guys. I love you all~!

~Mod L

Yoosung You had found a costume that was based on the armor from LOLOL but decided it would be more fun to leave the base clothing off. Once you were dressed and saw yourself in the mirror, you almost blushed just seeing yourself but kept it together. “Oh, Yoosung~” “Yes?”“Do you wanna see my costume?”“I thought we agreed we were just staying in tonight?” You had to keep yourself from giggling at the confusion in his voice. “Just sit there and wait~” You heard the all too familiar creaking of him sitting down on the couch. “Okay….” You took a deep breath before opening the door, leaning against the doorway, again having to suppress a laugh as you saw his jaw drop and his face turn red. “What do you think?” As he tried to stutter out a response, you took some steps towards him, the heels you chose to wear adding to your stride. “Don’t you like it?” You asked in an innocent voice, sitting in his lap. “I- I think I more than like it,” he replied, trying to steady his voice. “I’m not sure how well it’s gonna protect you, but I can do that for you”.“How brave,” You smiled, leaning into his neck. “I like that,” You whispered against his skin kissing it, biting him softly.“A-Ah~” He gasped, his hands gripping your waist. You smirked, feeling the heat from his cheeks. You pulled away far enough to gently press your forehead against his, your lips inches apart. “Why don’t you show what those levels are good for, and just how manly you are~?”

Zen Of course, you got your inspiration from one of his characters [x]. You found an outfit similar enough, covering some of yourself but leaving most of your skin bare. You found some fake chains to chain yourself to your bed and waited until you knew Zen would be leaving practice and texted him.Zen! I can’t really explain, but I need you to hurry home. I’m in a bit of a… predicament. You waited patiently until you heard the ding of a response.Are you okay?? I’m almost home, just wait! You almost felt bad but knew he would forgive you. You turned your phone on silent and tossed it to the side, and put the chains on. You hadn’t been waiting for long when you heard the front door open. “Babe? Where are you?” “In here~” “Are you okay..?” You could hear the shift in Zen’s tone in reaction to yours, going from less worried to confused. You stretched out, laying on your back with your hands above your head in the chains. “I just need my knight in shining armor to come save me,” you called out.“You’re not really in trouble, are you?” You heard his footsteps approaching as he spoke. “You don’t sound like-” His sentence stopped as soon as his eyes fell on you. “I thought I’d surprise you and dress up like your character, but something went wrong and now I’m stuck here. Can’t my knight in shining armor save me~?” You tried to make your voice sound innocent and helpless, even if you anything but. Zen smirked as he took off his jacket, tossing it to the side. “I don’t know princess, I might not be the knight you want,” he said as he climbed on top of you. “You look awfully cute in these chains,” he whispered as he traced his fingertips up your thigh. “I might just have to keep you here all night”.

Jaehee You two had talked before about how silly some Halloween costumes were. It was strange how you could take anything and put “sexy” before it, and then it was a costume. Which gave you a rather silly idea. You took a spare apron from your cafe, wondering what Jaehee would think of you wearing it. Of course, you both knew what it looked like with your uniform, but what about with nothing else? It was a bit difficult turning an apron into a ‘sexy’ costume, but you found a cute matching pair of panties and you knew you were set. You had barely finished doing your hair when you heard Jaehee coming home. You stayed hidden in the bathroom until you were ready to come out. “Welcome home Jaehee~” You called out.“Hi honey!” you heard her reply over the sound of clanking. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how much coffee she drank. “Hey, I think I have the perfect Halloween costumes for us. Hear me out, okay? Sexy baristas~!” You heard her laugh as she moved from the kitchen to the living room. “That sounds terrible sweetie”.“Oh come on! You don’t think it would look great?”“I’m sure you’d look stunning,” she replied, taking a sip from her coffee. You decided to pop out then, and it took her a moment to look up from her drink to see you. “It’s just not-… very…” her voice trailed off as she saw you. “Not very what?” You asked innocently as you bit your lip, looking at Jaehee. “I know we said we weren’t going to do much for Halloween, but I thought I should give you at least one treat,” you winked. She cleared her throat before standing up to go over and take your hand. “It was a bit of trick,” she laughed as she lead you to the bedroom. Her eyes drank in all of you as she spoke. “But, you certainly will be one sweet treat”.

Jumin You knew what you had to be for Halloween. It was obvious, and you did it the first Halloween you spent with Jumin. Thankfully, sexy cat costume was relatively popular and easy to find. You just had to be careful about paying with cash and hiding it from him until the day came. And you knew Jumin, so you bought a fuzzy pair of handcuffs to top it off. You quickly threw them on, keeping your hands in front of you as you heard Jumin come in. “Oh, Juminnn~ All done with work?” “Yes, sweetheart. Where are you?” “Ah, I’ll be out in a moment. Just sit in your seat and wait for me, won’t you dear?” “Of course,” he called back before you heard him sit. You carefully peeked out the doorway, making sure he was facing the other way before stepping out. “If you stay facing that way I can give you a surprise~” You saw him tense up a bit, but didn’t face away. “What is it?” “I know we’re not doing much for Halloween, but I thought it would be fun to dress up anyways,” you explained as you walked up right behind him. “I see. And what did you dress up as?”“I’m something very, very bad,” You put your arms around his shoulders from behind him, so you could gently run your nails across his chest and he could see the handcuffs on your wrists. You couldn’t see it, but he couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping for a moment before quickly shutting it. You kept your arms around him as you walked around him so he could see your full costume, and you could sit in his lap. “I think your kitten has been naughty”. Jumin paused for a moment, admiring your costume while his hands found their place on your hips. Then, without hesitation he stood up keeping your legs wrapped around him, taking you by surprise. He turned to push you against the wall. “Well, if that’s the case,” he said in a low voice, and you could feel his hot breath against your skin as he continued. “then kitten’s going to get punished”.

Seven It was almost embarrassing how well his maid costume fit you. You weren’t sure what was going to happen when you put in on, but you looked good in it. While you waited for him to come home, you made a few adjustments to it so it showed off more of your body’s curves. When you thought it was perfect you heard Saeyoung come through the front door. You ran over so you could hear him, but just out of view.“Hey, Saeyoung!” You shouted. “I wanna ask you something!” “What is it?” “Maybe we should dress up for Halloween?” “Yeah? What should we be?” He asked. You tried to not laugh before asking your next question. “Maybe I can take your maid costume?” You heard his laugh and the plop of him sitting down on the couch in your guys’ living room. He was facing your direction now, but you were still hidden behind a doorway. “That’s mine! Besides, if you did I don’t think we could go out. If I see you in that I would have to keep you to myself all night”.You popped out from behind the doorway, putting your hands on your hips. “Does that mean we’re still going to have a night in tonight?” The remote in Saeyoung’s hand fell to the ground, along with his jaw. “O-Oh”.“I thought this costume works since you’ve been such a dirty boy. I should really clean you up,” you winked as you walked towards him. “I- I-” Saeyoung stuttered as face turned as bright as his hair. You can tell you really caught him off guard, and secretly felt a bit proud of yourself for it. “Can’t find the words?” You laughed softly as you straddled his lap. “Don’t worry, I’ll find something for your lips to do instead”.

Jihyun When you thought about surprising Jihyun with a costume, and about how he told you he wanted to an artist, you thought of just the perfect costume for him. It was rather inexpensive too, as you only had to buy a necklace. You were so excited when he got home. He knew you had a surprise, he just had no idea what. When he got home you messaged him to come in with his eyes closed, and he played along. You lead him to sit in a chair in front of your guys’ bed and then dropped your robe to reveal your costume to his closed eyes. You laid across the bed, trying to be quiet.“Can I open my eyes now?”“Not until you guess what I am~” “I finally get talked into that surgery just for this,” he chuckled. “Do I get any hints?”“Yup~! You get these four hints. First is there’s a drawing pad and pencil next to you”. You paused while he felt around for it, then took it in his hands. “Next is that I’m a character from an American movie. It’s based off a true story, and we’ve both seen it”.Jihyun thought for a second, tapping the pencil against the pad. After a moment he slouched in his chair, shaking his head. “Sweetie, I have no idea. Please tell me?”“You’re no good at this,” you giggled. “I’ll give you one last hint. The most iconic line in the entire movie”.“Okay…”You bit your lip before saying “I want you to draw me like one of your French girls,” you paused as you saw one of his eyebrows raise. “Wearing this,” you gently shook your necklace so he could hear it. “Only this”. Jihyun opened his eyes to see you laying on the bed, only wearing the necklace Rose was in the Titanic. You were laying in the same pose she was, biting your lip while looking at Jihyun. A blush formed on his cheeks. “I suppose that makes me Jack then? I think I’d make an awful Jack,” he said as he said the pad and pencil back down.“Hm? And why’s that?” You asked as you watched him stand up and walk towards you.“Well,” he replied, climbing into bed over you. “I don’t think I’m going to be drawing you. I think there’s something else I’d much rather do with you”.

#Mystic messenger #myseme #mystic messenger imagine #mystic messenger headcanon #Halloween #Yoosung Kim #Jaehee Kang #Zen #Hyun Ryu #Jumin Han #Seven Zero Seven #Saeyoung Choi #V #Jihyun Kim

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queen-scribbles · 7 years

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Levyn Character Info

Name: Levyn Gladewind Race: Human Class: Warlock Patron: Archfey

-------------------------------------- Vital Stats Height: 5'9" Weight: 150lbs Hair: black, shaggy Eyes: light blue Age: 20 Alignment: Neutral Good Identifying Marks: small scars and stains on his hands and arms from failed spells, one longer scar from a bladed weapon that runs the length of his right forearm -------------------------------------- Skill Stats Strength--15 Intelligence--15 Dexterity--16 Charisma--20 Constitution--17 Wisdom--9 -------------------------------------- Languages Spoken: Common, Elvish, Halfling Skills: Arcana, Deception, History, Investigation Armor/Weapons: light armor, simple weapons

Weapons of Choice: quarterstaff/Book of Shadows Armor of Choice: Light-weight leathers Background: No one spotting the scrawny young man wearing rather threadbare clothes and carefully keeping to himself would suspect he comes from nobility, though they could hardly be blamed for that. Levyn's family are nobles, but only just. His parents rank barely a step or two above "the common rabble", which has led them to guard their reputation with the jealousy and ferocity of a dragon at its hoard. Decorum and behavior and remaining scandal-free were the backbone of all lessons he learned growing up, with heavy stress put on not embarrassing The Family. Unfortunately for his parents, if they wanted Levyn to grow up a model citizen, they shouldn't have dragged their eight year old son to Baron Randall's Winter’s Crest celebration. It was much too 'adult' a party to hold a child's interest for long, which led to Levyn wandering around until he met someone closer to his age: Trinne Amell, one year older and likewise dragged to this party by parents who thought it would be a good opportunity for her to practice her manners. Emboldened by their friendship, the two children quickly set about causing mischief(mostly Trinne's idea) until they got caught(mostly Levyn's fault), and got in trouble(equally shared). His parents scolded him the whole way home, and saw Trinne as a bad influence. Levyn saw her as his only real friend. He and Trinne stayed friends as they grow up. Best friends, in fact, almost more like siblings. Much as his parents considered Trinne to be a bad influence, with her utter disregard for rules and societal convention, her family was higher in the pecking order than they were, so they tolerated the friendship for the tenuous link to the upper echelons it provided. This only lasted until Levyn and Trinne were teenagers, and Trinne told him she was planing to run away. She hated all the rules of high society, wanted adventures, to go do her own thing. Before she even asked, Levyn offered to help. He might not want to go adventuring himself, but he wants her to be happy. When her parents found her and dragged her home, the whole story came out, and Levyn's parents told him he wasn’t allowed to see her anymore. He tried to sneak out to visit her anyway, got caught by a servant, and his parents sent him to study under an uncle who was a wizard, hundreds of miles away. He has no talent for being a wizard. None. He's terrible at it. But he loves studying, so he spends a lot of time reading and sketching the places in the books. He's especially fascinated by stories about the Feywild and its inhabitants. Reads anything he can get his hands on about it. By his third or fourth year with his uncle, he would give a limb for the chance to go visit the Feywild. It takes a few years, but he gets his wish, no limb sacrifice required. His uncle(not a particularly scrupulous man) offers him the "opportunity" in search of an especially rare item dear Uncle Eldred needs for a powerful spell. Levyn's so giddy at the prospect of visiting the Feywild he doesn't wonder about the dangers, or why his uncle won't go himself if this is so important. Why send an apprentice, and one who isn't a particularly skilled wizard at that? He enters the Feywild with only a pack of supplies and both a verbal and sketched description of the item he seeks. "It's rather powerful," Uncle Eldred warns. "So you probably won't be the only one interested in it. But I need you to bring it back, my boy. It's vital I have it if I hope to outdo that braggart Irving." He gets completely lost immediately. Not that it matters, really; it's not as if he had the first idea where to start looking for this thing anyway. He wanders around for who-even-knows how long, both incredibly lost and incredibly fascinated by everything around him. After several hours--days? he's not really sure--of exploring(involving at least one close call each with werewolves and fairies), he stumbles into a glade in the middle of a forest with the ruins of what was probably once a small shrine at one end. There's a half-eroded carving of what he assumes is the patron goddess on one wall, long hair and flowing robes, her eyes pale green gemstones. He finds the item he's looking for in the ruins, covered in moss and laying with several other artifacts by a broken altar. He takes it, of course. He can feel the power buzzing through it, but there don't seem to be any spells or enchantments binding it to the shrine. And he's not attacked by anything, or struck down by magic when he leaves(doesn't even feel anything weird), so he figures it's okay. It's not okay. Everything seems fine for about a week after he returns to his uncle(and heaps of praise for actually succeeding, which Eldred didn't think he'd do), until he receives a visitor. She calls herself Lady Ember, and is rather plain-looking; dark red hair, average height. But her eyes are an incredibly pale glass-green that's slightly unnerving, and there's a sense of power about her that's almost mesmerizing. Once they're alone, she smiles disarmingly and asks if he recognizes her. He shakes his head. "And now?" she asks, dispelling her enchanted appearance with a flick of her wrist. She's clearly fey and hauntingly beautiful; hair longer, fading from the dark red at the roots to blonde at the end, features angular yet delicate, her dress shifting shades of green with highlights of faint red and yellow in her gossamer train. She's closer to familiar now, but he still can't say he recognizes her. "I am Lilia, Lady of the Green Glade," she says with a thin smile. "If you don't recognize me, perhaps you're more familiar with my realm." She holds out a scrying orb so he can see into its depth. It shows a forest, the majority of it withered and decayed, and he stammers out that he didn't see anywhere like that during his visit to the Feywild. Lilia's smile turns cold. "Because it looked rather different before your visit. A vibrant forest, with a well-kept glade and a small shrine. A shrine housing a collection of artifacts." That's where the cold, sinking feeling hits his gut. "And not a willy-nilly horde of trinkets like you mortals keep," Lilia continues. "It was carefully curated to sustain the barrier that protects my realm from corrupting forces. Your actions, thief, weakened the magic and now corruption runs rampant, striking down trees that should live another century or more. However, I am a reasonable woman, and will seek no vengeance if you simply return what you stole." it's an incredibly generous offer, and Levyn knows it, one he would take advantage of in a heartbeat. If he could. Whatever spell or ritual Eldred needed the artifact for consumed it. Lilia is not happy to learn this. "Well, then. Until you can find a suitable replacement to atone for your grievous error, I think your soul is fair trade for the soul of my forest." He tries to protest--he's a lousy wizard(ask anyone), he wouldn't know where to start looking, will almost certainly get himself killed. Can't they work out something else, like a few decades of servitude? Lilia rolls her eyes and mutters something about mortals and their excuses before taking his face in her hands. Her eyes briefly glow a brighter green and there's an unmistakable surge of power between them. "The deal is struck," she says with a smile(not kind, but not malicious). "Powers easier to call upon than a wizard's tricks for you, your soul for me. This bargain stands until my forest does once more." She restores her enchanted form and leaves. Levyn's uncle kicks him out when he hears what happened. So he goes home to see if his parents have anything they can spare to help. However, his uncle wrote them, which gets there before he does, so when he arrives he's promptly and coldly informed he's no longer their son. Not if he's going to dabble with forces he can't control and go haring off to the Feywild. They can't afford to have that kind of recklessness attached to the family name. He next visits Trinne's family, hoping she'll want to go adventuring with him. He finds out she ran away again two years after that first attempt he helped her with and they haven't seen her since. He's welcome to try and track her down himself if he thinks he'll have better luck. He does just that. He's already looking for rare artifacts, how much more difficult can it be to also find one specific woman in the entirety of the world? He takes the last name Gladewind for his adventures, since he can't use his family name any more, and sets out to find the best friend he hasn't seen since he was fourteen. He figures she'll be happy to join him on an adventure where the only plan is to travel and look for powerful artifacts. He's not wrong, of course, but he has to find her first. Virtues: Curious, always trying to do better, cares deeply about the people close to him Flaws: Easily distracted by the promise of knowledge, bad decision making skills Other Traits: Loves a good mystery, socially awkward, artistic(charcoal sketches, primarily)

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Yes, my artist!Jowan headcanon bleeds into yet another ‘verse. I can’t help it, I’m very attached to that particular headcanon. Also, I’ve changed my mind three or four times about his alignment, bc I keep reading different people’s summaries/simplifications o the alignment chart and feeling conflicted. xD The closest I’ve ever found for a Jowan faceclaim is Diego Luna, who isn’t 100% perfect, but he’s good enough.

Given my lack of familiarity with D&D, coming up with the patron was the hardest part. I knew I wanted to do archfey(tho if anyone could accidentally stumble into a Fiend pact it would be Jowan), but then had to decide which archfey. Came really close to stealing Artagan from Critical Role using Titania before I found a reddit thread of five or six people talking about the archfey they created to be their warlock’s patron and went “K, Imma do that” and thus, Lilia.

#queen rambles #levyn the warlock #i feel like i need a tag for all these dnd characters i can't stop making #i have a PROBLEM

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