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ziracona · 3 years

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It’s my Birthday today and I wanted to start it off with updating a fic I’m enjoying writing. Hope you enjoy the read. : )

[Fate Grand Order AU fic] The Kid (pt: 1, ... 8, 9, 10, 11, ?)

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“Okay so, sorry, I’m still doing a little catch-up,” mutters Robin as we reach another corner and pause. Ahead, Emiya holds up a hand for us to halt and we do.

“Robin, do you have the mana for May King?” I hear Emiya’s voice in my head. Which, I appreciate being looped in on. Kind of thought he was going to be more of a pain to work with just because he could be, but he’s surprisingly practical and easy to work with for the uncooperative introduction we have. He seems real familiar with Robin’s abilities; gotta wonder where and when exactly they did meet—'specially since Robin barely seems to remember him at all.

Unlike me, poor Ritsuka looks like the frequent mental chatter is still something she’s trying to get used to; zones out a little every time someone communicates this way. I get it—took me a while to not be weirded out myself my first time summoned, and that was with the ability coming naturally, since I was a spirit.

“Hold that thought,” whispers Robin to me, then mentally to us all, “Yeah, a few times if it’s short. This important?”

“It’s not a difficult hall,” replies Emiya mentally, “But there’s too many people interacting with their security measures, and we haven’t gotten enough of us free yet. If we can’t disarm the magecraft security system and their personnel at once, someone might stay up just long enough to hit an alarm, and I’d prefer we free as many of us as possible before they figure out what we’re up to, since-“ He almost hesitates, glancing at Ritsuka for a split second, but he doesn’t. “-they might just start to kill them.”

Makes sense. I know it. They have catalysts to get us all back, and we have no idea where those are. I hate it, but he’s right—they’d definitely do it. Pretty sure I see Ritsuka connecting the same dots.

“Roger. I’ll move ahead into position,” says Robin mentally, cracking his neck as he moves up, “Give me about six seconds to find a good vantage point, then I’ll go as soon as I sense mana from you going after the security system.”

“Can we help?” asks Ritsuka worriedly in my head.

“If something goes wrong,” replies Robin telepathically, “Hopefully we won’t need it.” He stands then. “Sorry Mast—Ritsuka. I’m going to take a little bit out of you with this, but it’s only a skill, utilized this way, so it shouldn’t be too bad.” At my side, Robin glances down and gives a nod, then vanishes—not to spirit form, just flat out invisible. God it’s so cool! It always has been. Wish I could vanish like that; be useful as hell when dodging pursuers or trying to get an edge! Wish it was a thing he could teach me, but it don’t work like that—it’s a skill earned in life, and it’s all the thief of the forest’s.

Ahead, Ritsuka’s eyes widen as she watches him vanish, but she follows where I think he might be—she’s connected more than we are to each other, so she probably has a better idea than I do. Honest, it’s weird to have a guess where he is at all; I...don’t think I’ve ever been co-servant to someone before. It’s different, but, I like it. I like having a team. I mean, I’ve had allies before, but this ain’t the same. I can sense Robin a little myself like this, but I gotta wonder just how different it feels to be a master.

Emiya places his hand against the wall and whispers somethin’, and I feel a pulse of mana from him and hear the sudden ‘flishk’ of drawn bow strings releasing and movement, plus one choked, barely audible cry, then several quiet thuds all in rapid succession.

“Clear,” comes Robin’s voice in our heads.

Emiya smiles and steps out, Ritsuka and me behind him, and Robin materializes ahead of us between five guards sprawled unconscious along the ground. Kinda amazed how well we’re doing so far—damn it I’m gonna jinx us, but still! Non-lethal is way harder, and we’re still doing ok.

Looking amazed by the scene, Ritsuka rushes up to Robin. “Wow, that was incredible!” she whispers excitedly, “How do you do that? —How did you know he could do that?” she adds, turning big eyed to Emiya.

Robin and Emiya share a glance, slightly awkward. Huh, don’t seem like Emiya knows him too well, from the way he’s lookin’ at him; which makes it weirder he knows so much about his skills. Maybe…they fought? They don’t seem hostile to each other at all, but somethin’ like a Holy Grail War, where mages force you to kill each other, God knows I’ve fought my share of people I had no desire to kill and who really had no desire to kill me either. I could see it bein’ somethin’ like that. …Maybe?

“It’s uh, an inherited custom from the Celts,” says Robin, “I picked up some tricks, when I was on the run so much, and I guess it was pretty good, because as a servant, it lets me do that.”

Ritsuka looks at Emiya for his half of an answer.

“...We’ve met,” offers Emiya vaguely.

“Oh,” says Ritsuka in surprise, “So. You and Billy and Robin-?”

“—No, we never met,” I interject, gesturing between me and Emiya.

“Okay, so, different times?” checks Ritsuka, “When-”

“-I don’t mean to be rude,” says Emiya gently, “But we don’t really have time to discuss this.” He gestures to the waiting door and Ritsuka flushes.

“R-right—I’m sorry—it’s just interesting how you all meet and I want to know more—“

“-Hey, don’t worry kid,” says Robin, clapping her on the back, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know later. To answer your question,” he adds casually, moving to the door and drawing back a leg to kick, “I’m not sure about him, but I don’t remember.” With one solid slam from his foot, Robin snaps through the remaining physical lock on the door so it slides open, and in the one second before I’m distracted by what’s inside, I notice Emiya raise an eyebrow. Huh. So you do remember.

I get a glimpse into the room ahead then, and every thought goes out of my head. Except ‘The...hell?’

It’s different. It’s so different. I know it’s only been me and Robin so far, but it’s not the death bed with a withered corpse I expected at all. The spirit in this room is very much alive, and it is furious.

The cell is circular, with more seals carved into and drawn on the floor and walls and ceiling than I can process, and the spirit is dead center of them all, with heavy, bulky, painful looking restraints locked around his feet and forearms, another thick band around his waist and more on his thighs, his neck, his upper arms, each attached to a different heavy chain drawn taut, tugging in opposite directions of each other and making it as close as it can to impossible for him to move at all. He’s got a blindfold on too, also metal and painful looking, and a gag, but he’s not kneeling under the weight of it all like I was, or immobile and weak like Robin; he’s thrashing madly with the tiny, limited movement he has. His head snaps in our direction when we enter, and I hear his muffled, angry shouts even from here. He’s choking himself and ripping at the skin on his arms and legs and neck, but still, he’s fighting—and wildly. In fact, I’m pretty sure the seals around the room are the only thing keeping him captive at all.

It hurts to watch, seeing one of us rip blindly at his restraints, trying to break free like a dog being forced into in a fighting ring. But, I’m also impressed. Astounded. He doesn’t seem scared at all, just angry, and there’s something reassuring about it. ‘Specially since he’s short too.

“Huh,” says Emiya, the same look on his face I figure is on mine, and is definitely on Ritsuka. She snaps out of it first though, and starts to rush toward the blinded spirit, then hesitates because we’ve all balked too.

“...Can’t one of you break the locks? Like for Robin?” asks Ritsuka worriedly, half-turning to face us.

“Probably, but we don’t know what happens if we step in the circle,” explains Emiya, indicating the etchings above, below, and all around us.

“Yeah, I don’t speak mage runes, but I’m pretty sure that says some version of ‘if you’re a heroic spirit, get fucked,‘ ’cause I can feel that from here. —I got you though,” I add quickly, “move a little left and I’ll shoot one from here.” Thank God for long ranged skills! Both of the others seem chagrined I’m the first to think of this; can’t decide if I should be proud, or insulted by that.

Ritsuka hops to the side, and I aim, but I hesitate again with my gun drawn. The man in front of me is blinded and I don’t think he can hear well, because he ain’t reacted to anything we’ve said—only our presence—and he’s flipped out. If I free him, he might lash out, and Ritsuka is closer than we are. I’d rush in, of course, but I have no idea if stepping in that circle would paralyze me.

“Hey Boss—Partner?” I correct, lowering my gun just a little, “I don’t think he can hear well with that thing on his head. He’s panicked and angry—might be a bad idea to cut him loose without explaining who we are. Even if he don’t attack us, he’s probably gonna make a lot of noise, and we don’t need that.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, looking from him to me. Ahead, the spirit lunges in our direction with a fury I understand and makes me pretty sure I’m right that he has no idea who we are.

“Think you can calm him down? I could shout from here, but we don’t wanna he heard, and you probably got a better shot anyway. Not sure how much he can hear, but he’s gotta be able to hear a little, since he seems to know where we are without his eyes. Try talking to him—let him know we’re here to help ‘fore I break him free?” I suggest.

“Uhm,” she says, looking from him to me, “I’ll try.”

I feel bad immediately, seeing the moment of fear in her before she moves forward, so I take another step, close as I can get without hitting the circle, and call after her, “Don’t worry! Promise; he makes a move to hurt you, I’ll stop him before he even gets close; easy shot from here, ‘n I’m a crack shot—I won’t miss. ‘N don’t worry—won’t hurt him too much, either,” I add with a wink.

She glances back and smiles at me, worry mostly evaporated, and I grin back.

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, and then she turns to the bound figure up ahead.

He hears her coming, and there’s a muffled scream of rage from him as he tears at the chains holding him back. We’re not any of us an easy thing to contain, and I can sense how much he knows it, how furious and how ready to make whoever did this pay.

Beside me, I sense movement and out of the corner of my eyes, and I make out Robin and Emiya both moving, Emiya first, materializing a bow and readying a shot like I am, Robin doing the same with an arrow on his crossbow, but pivoting to keep an eye behind us, on the hall. Bases covered.

Carefully, Ritsuka takes another step, edging closer. About fifteen feet from him now in the big room. He definitely knows where she is—even blindfolded, his head moves with her and he thrashes in her direction as threateningly as he can like he is. The restraints on his legs and arms are bulky, so I can’t see his hands or feet, but the places they end on his forearms and calves are bleeding from his attempts to rip free.

“I-it’s okay,” says Ritsuka, taking another careful step over one of the taut chains, and putting her hands up calming and nonthreateningly as she proceeds moving closer. He can’t see her, but of course she still is. “It’s alright. We a-”

The spirit uses his neck to rip the chain around it back with all his might, and I realize almost too late it’s the one she’s just now carefully stepping over.

I can’t think of a way to stop it long-distance, so I bolt. The second my foot goes over the first seal though, I feel an intense amount of mana hit me, and I knew it was coming, but it’s SO much worse than I expect, and I can’t move. It’s so much. It’s agonizing, like being hit with a bolt of lightning! The hell kind of seal-! Fuck! I—can move, damn it! I will!

I can! I can. I just... It takes immense effort, but I feel my muscles starting to move. I’m gonna be way too late—I should—

Arm throbbing with pain, I drag my hand up to level a shot as the chain snaps into her leg and she yelps and pivots forward. If he has a real plan and some way to grab her, least I can shoot him first, but something closes around the back of my vest and I’m flung backwards with force onto the safe ground outside.

“Idiot!” calls Emiya irritated over his shoulder, “You don’t have the magic resistance of an Archer! Stay out there!”

He’s...right, but. Even Robin and he shouldn’t...?

How is he doing that?

It’s been less than two seconds and he’s already there. He barely even lost steam throwing me. I-I am watching him shoot to her side with such speed I could almost swear he teleported, through a bounded field. He catches Ritsuka like it’s nothing while she’s still in the air, and rights her as she yelps in surprise, then jumps and flings himself back out of range of the circle, landing just outside it far on the right side with a little wince and a grimace. I gape at him from on the ground. It did hurt then, doing that. The field—It did hit him. He just...got through? The hell kind of magic resistance you got? I know Archer’s a knight class and that gets you some, but...

This is something else. I don’t know what. I-I didn’t think any of us could move in there, once I felt it; that can’t just be magic resistance can it? But it’s something. I want to ask, but I know it’s not the time. He glances at me though, after making sure Ritsuka is fine and giving her a nod when she checks over his should to see if everything is okay and she should keep going, and I realize to my surprise I’m pretty sure he’s doing the same with me—checking in to see I’m okay. I manage a nod as well.

“You okay?” asks Robin from behind me.

“Yeah,” I answer. My gun’s been leveled the whole time, but I’m only now remembering to get to my feet again, and do, eyes on the chained spirit the whole time, “Those things always sting, but it ain’t as bad as some other recent memories.”

I kind of expect Robin to say something back, but he doesn’t, so I turn 100% of my attention to the people in the middle of the room.

“It’s okay!” tries Ritsuka again, facing the bound spirit but hesitating to move forward out there now, “Please stop fighting us! I’m not an enemy; we’re trying to help you, I swear!”

I don’t feel a change in the atmosphere at all—the spirit is still radiating anger—but he stops tearing at his bindings for a moment when she speaks and just stands there breathing hard, blindfolded eyes turned towards her and blood running down his neck and limbs.

“Thank you,” says Ritsuka, smiling and holding up a hand in thanks with the word even though he can’t see it, before moving forward again, “If you just listen, I-I can explain—I promise, we’re not here to hurt you. We aren’t with the people who locked you up. We broke in here to try and help. Everyone but me in here is another heroic spirit, and we’re all trying to help you—help all the spirits trapped in here!”

The man stays still and tilts his head slowly, considering her. Mistrustful, I think, like I was. But he’s hopeful, or desperate, too—not sure why they’d send her to lie, which is enough to make you hope.

“I-I’m gonna get a little closer now, okay?” says Ritsuka, edging towards him again, “And see if I can get any of those chains off you. The others can probably do it if I can’t, but they’re all spirits so they’re having a hard time getting past the uh—the seals.”

He tilts his head back upright and then the other way, and tracks her movement by sound as she gets closer. The guy is still breathing heavy and clearly on edge, but he lets her get close this time.

When she reaches him, Ritsuka holds her hand up. I don’t think he’s going to lash out, but I don’t trust like that—‘specially knowing the pressure he’s under firsthand—and so I keep my gun trained on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay? To see if I can figure out how this is fastened. P-Please don’t hit me.”

She stutters nervously on that last line, and I see just a little of the tension in the man’s shoulders loosen. Interesting. I guess that means whoever he is, he ain’t the most hardened sort, if he’s feelin’ empathy for a stranger while trapped like that.

Ritsuka moves a little to the side for a better look and touches the back of the shackle blinding him, and he flinches and pulls away a half-inch on impulse, breathing quickening for a second, then goes still again. This must be agonizing for him.

“Really is okay!” I call out in a hushed voice, even though like that he probably can’t hear me. I can’t risk drawing security, but-

Emiya side-eyes me for a second. I can’t tell if the look is annoyed or amused. Guess it don’t matter.

“Okay—it’s pretty simple. Just a little bolt again,” says Ritsuka in relief. I hear a metallic ‘click’ and then she’s pulling the metal blindfold off him, and there’s a fairly young man—maybe early 30s at a guess—looking back at her then. He’s not very bulky, and taller than me, but not tall, kinda long and shaggy green hair, and a face I don’t recognize at all with red marks all over it where the metal bit in, a few little trickles of blood runnin’ down his forehead and cheekbones from it. The most notable thing though is the expression on his face. He registers Ritsuka’s form as she lowers the blindfold and his eyes go wide. The man blinks at her a few times, then quickly looks up, clocks me and Robin and Emiya, seems relieved, and looks back questioningly at Ritsuka. Almost all of his readiness to lash out has vanished in an instant.

“Hi,” says Ritsuka, smiling at him, “I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru. Nice to meet you. Thank you for not hitting me.”

The man blinks again, and gives her a little nod. I see more of his tension ease.

“I’m really sorry this happened to you. We’re here to help—those two were stuck here too.” She pauses to point to me and Robin, and I give him a little hat tip, Robin a two-fingered wave in acknowledgement.

Our Master—I mean partner—friend? —Ritsuka, she looks down at some of the other oddly bulky shackles, and then back up at the now much more calmly waiting man. I’m trying to guess who he could be. We had letter, earring, kunai, and a pot, according to her, ‘long with my and Robin’s catalysts. He’s definitely not Asian—looks maybe...middle eastern, Semitic? Not sure though. Either way, I’m willing to bet he’s not the kunai, so that leaves broken pot, earring, and letter. None of which help much. I don’t have a good guess, and that’s only if they haven’t gotten more since Ritsuka saw catalysts anyway, but, whoever he is, he seems level-headed and decent at least, so I’m takin’ this all so far as a good sign.

“The ones on your arms and legs have real locks, so I’m not sure I can get them—I’ll have to have one of the guys shoot them off from outside the circle,” says Ritsuka, looking sorry.

I look at Robin and Emiya, because what I got’s loud; the two of them exchange looks, and Emiya sighs and turns to study the chains for a second, then summons a long, thin…arrow? and draws.

“But let me get the gag first—I think I can get that too,” says Ritsuka smiling at the man as she reaches up to do it. Much less on his guard now, he stoops for her to make it easier to reach, still watching her carefully though. Or, actually, interested more than careful, maybe, at second glance. Huh. Very level-headed man.

The gag makes a snap sound, and Ritsuka pulls it off. Relieved, the man opens his mouth and kind of rolls his jaw, trying to get the taste of it out, then straightens back up and smiles at Ritsuka. “Well thank you very much, for that and the rescue.”

Unbelievably calm. But I don’t think he’s being fake—he’s just got some kinda personality.

“Where did you come from, Miss...Fujimaru, yes?” he asks, and she nods, “How did someone as young as you end up-” he tries to gesture, immediately hits already taut chain, and winces, “-here?”

“Wrong, or, right, depending on how you look at it, place at the right time,” answers Ritsuka.

He’s definitely curious, but he just gives a nod of acknowledgement.

“Oh—before you do that,” she says to Emiya, then turns back to the man, “Uhm, you’re probably connected to the building somehow, and if we break those, you’ll run out of mana. Or. You aren’t actually that hurt,” she adds like she’s only just now really thinking about it, “But you’ll still vanish pretty fast if we sever your connection to mana, won’t you?”

“Yes and no,” says the man, clearly surprised by how much she has figured out, “You’re right they somehow altered the contracts to let the technology itself provide us with mana, and we can break the contracts physically, like you would killing a Master, by breaking the machine.”

“Why?” she asks, lost.

“They want to sell us. This makes us easily transportable, and it’s not like a mage could support one of us alone outside a ritual easily anyway,” says the man, a bit of that earlier rage and spite sinking back into his tone. He refocuses on Ritsuka and smiles again. “But I’m an Archer, so I can survive for a little bit on my own—week or two—without an anchor, since I’m not in terrible shape.”

“Another fucking Archer?” asks Robin without thinking, almost affronted disbelief in his voice and his face when I turn to look and see him gaping.

Wait.

“Oh shit, he’s right! Did they only take Archers? Why??” I ask.

“That is almost upsetting somehow,” says Emiya thoughtfully, “They didn’t summon me, but two and a half out of six of you so far is still super weird.”

“You’d think we’d be less good picks, since we can survive so long on our own. They should be grabin’ Casters or somethin’,” I agree in confusion.

“Wait, all three of you are Archers?” asks the man.

“I’m a gunner,” I say like ‘kind of’ while Robin says “Yeah,” with irritation and Emiya says, “I guess.”

“That is weird,” says the man to Ritsuka, “but I don’t think we have time to discuss it. Their security might not be perfect, but they aren’t idiots.”

She nods. “Uhm, okay. Well, in that case, I guess you don’t need to contract right now to be okay, but if you’d like to—to help you fight better or without worrying about disappearing, you can contract with me—if you want.”

His expression is one of a man hearing something that made complete sense until suddenly it made absolutely none at all. “...C. ...You? But.” He looks over at the rest of us, then back at her, “are none of the others...? -You know, outside a ritual, even a strong mage will be exhausted by that?”

“Oh, I know,” says Ritsuka quickly, nodding, “I’m not good at magic yet, and can’t do almost any spells, but my circuits are weird and apparently I have such a massive pool of mana I can support multiple heroic spirits on my own without a grail or anything!”

He stares at her like that straight up can’t compute. Blinks slowly. Looks at us.

“Yeah,” I say. She looks so proud of herself. It makes me happy! And weirdly proud too.

“It’s true,” agrees Robin, “Got no idea how many she can carry, but we’re three so far, and she hasn’t slowed down a bit.”

“Wow,” says the man, looking back at her with big eyes, “That’s quite a skill.” He considers for a moment and then smiles to himself. “Todah,” he says quietly, almost fondly, and then, “What a blessing; God never ceases to surprise. I will happily take you up on your offer Ba’al, I accept.” He gives a little, awkward and slightly painful looking bow as best he can still bound. “My true name is David, and I am an Archer. Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, surprised and flattered. She flushes and holds out a hand, then realizes he can’t take one the way it is. He smiles at her and bows his head forward instead, resting it against her outstretched fingers. “Uhm.” She takes a second to find her footing. “My soul becomes your will, your spirit becomes my destiny. If you hear me and agree, accept me and join, Archer.”

It’s softer than I’ve heard her say it before. Funny how many ways I’ve heard it now. Desperate, to me, afraid of losing me. Intense and pleading, to Emiya, begging for help. Kind and intent and sincere to Robin. And now here, soft and happy. I got no idea why that’s all so significant to me, but it is. I feel like I’m gonna remember it. I hope I will.

…I…

….Haven’t thought about that for a while, but now that the thought’s there, my gut sinks and my heart with it.

I might not. …So often, the Throne won’t let us remember anything from a summon once we die and get dragged back to it. God only knows how many Ritsukas I didn’t want to forget as bad as I don’t wanna forget this now, and don’t even get to know to be sad I can’t remember.

I hate that thought. ...

In the center of the room, a light flashes from Ritsuka’s hand at the point of connection, and I can feel a faint attachment of my own to David now. Try to focus on that instead. On how odd it feels to be under the same master as someone else, but not bad—just so different, in a way it’s hard to really get over.

David, he said? Right—which David? WAIT.

“David?” I ask way too fast, interrupting this beautiful moment without thinking, my mind completely blank outside of one sudden fear, “Wait, which David who’s an Archer—you’re not-?”

He looks over surprised and then gives me a kind of sheepish smile. “King David of Israel. Son of Jesse and Nitzevet, father of Solomon, my successor.”

Oh my God. Oh God; fuck—I’m so glad I didn’t shoot him.

Emiya is taking this in stride, but Robin looks at least a little something, and Ritsuka’s eyes have gone huge. “You’re a king? Wait. You’re from. -” She’s floundering, so I step in to save her.

“-King David? I—Hi, Billy the Kid; I’m so honored to meet you! I never met a Biblical-uhh-T-Torah-ical,” shit now I’m floundering worse god damn it; I was trying I—I just never seen someone from the...th-the actual religion that—I practice, before—I.

Totally nonplussed, King David shakes his head dismissively with a smile. “I know what you mean; pleased to meet you all. Please though, just call me David. My days as a King are long past, and on the Throne, I have been called to serve others again. I was a shepherd before I was a king, and I have always been the both. Think of me as just another companion, because right now, it’s who I am.”

“Whoa,” says Ritsuka, still a little pale and in awe, “Th-thank you. Okay, David. I-It’s great to meet you too. —I’m so sorry! What am I doing?! -Emiya, can you?” She glances over and sees his bow drawn, nods, and hops out of his way.

King David glances at Emiya, then holds perfectly still, and the archer draws a quick series of shots that tear through the restraints nearly simultaneously in a little shower of sparks and screeching metal. Some kinda style; don’t think I’ve ever seen someone shoot what was clearly swords just now off a bow string before. Huh. Who are you?

The chains fall away, and King David raises his arms and looks at his hands, flexes them, and takes in the bruising and lacerations on his body from trying to get free.

“I’ll try to heal you,” offers Ritsuka, stepping up to him. He glances over at her. “I’m still learning, so I’m not sure I can fix it all, but I’m sure I can help!”

He smiles and gives a nod, stoops a little and offers her his arms. She takes them in her hands, scrunches her face up and shuts her eyes, and I sense a quick, small pulse of mana. It’s amazing how much she picked up in one night. I’m kinda in awe, watchin’ the worst bruises fade, and the cuts that are still bleeding close up and start to heal. It ain’t perfect, like me, like Robin, but it’s a hell of a lot, and King David looks pleased and maybe a little impressed himself.

“Thank you, Ba’al,” says King David, “I’m good to go now.”

Ritsuka opens her eyes and beams at him. She’s sweating a little again from the effort, but it ain’t bad. She’s holdin’ up like a champ so far. “Great!” she says, “Let’s get moving, then!” She takes a step and spins right back around back to face King David. “—Oh. Can you walk out okay? Do I need to carry you?”

Kind David looks incredibly tickled by that offer, but he shakes his head. “I’ve got extremely good magic resistance, even for an Archer—I’d love to get out of this seal now though—it’s quite agonizing.” Without extra comment, he slides his hands under her armpits and lifts her up, then speed single-hops right out of the seal, like Emiya did, and sets her down gently.

“Oh—uh—thanks,” says Ritsuka, surprised but not bothered, “okay—sorry for taking so long,” she adds to us three, “Let’s get to the next one!”

Emiya gives a nod and moves to take point again, motioning us after.

“Question,” says Robin quietly as we slide out into the hall, watching King David’s surprised and little else expression as he takes in the unconscious guards, “I’m uh, really glad for you that you weren’t on death’s door like us—don’t get me wrong—but I thought that was their whole thing. Why were you just kind of...imprisoned? It’s a weird break of form. Might be significant.”

“Oh, that,” says David, “it is a break of form, but it’s not very significant, except I guess as proof they’re not exactly the most seasoned of field mages, no matter how much money, staff, and technical skill they have. They didn’t know which King they were going to get, summoning me. Just the general power of the catalyst—guess they got it not very legally, even for a catalyst. And unfortunately for them, I’m not a great candidate for death-battery-whatever they’re doing, because I died peacefully in my sleep as an old man.”

“The dream,” I say just loud enough for only Robin next to me to hear, and he shoots me a barely restrained smile.

“So then,” continues Robin, “Why keep you? Dangerous to leave one of us alive and motivated to rip shit apart.”

“Mmm,” agrees King David with a nod, “But they weren’t going to keep me. They were going to sell me, contract and all, to the highest bidder. Contacted a lot of mage groups.”

Ritsuka looks so horrified hearing that. It’s sweet, and a little sad, because Robin and I aren’t even surprised by it. It’s not really even odd; it makes sense. That’s how mages act, and that’s how we get treated.

“Any idea who or what for?” asks Robin.

“Hey,” comes Emiya’s voice in our heads, “Uh ahead. Sensing a containment field like the rest, but no guards at all this time.”

“That’s...weird,” says Ritsuka back mentally. She keeps closing her eyes to talk in her head when she starts, and it’s endearingly funny to watch. “I mean...I don’t want to jinx us, but hasn’t this all been...too easy? When I got Billy out, I had a huge explosion and the element of surprise, and no tripped alarms and a working pass, and I still barely got out. Here they’re already on high alert, and we’ve freed three heroic spirits now, and they’re not guarding the rest or checking their rooms?”

Huh. I mean, I’m not as familiar as she is with building security, but she’s right that they’ve been...weirdly placed.

“Yes,” agrees Emiya, tone firm, “it is strange. There are a lot of armed people here, and security, but even with all the luck in the world, it’s almost unbelievable they haven’t pinpointed us yet, and we haven’t hit more security. It’s like...”

“...A trap?” I ask nervously.

“...No,” says Emiya out loud as we all reach a corner and pause together, “It’s like someone’s helping us.”

“What?” says Ritsuka, taken aback.

“There’s too many people weirdly scattered for it to feel like a trap,” says Emiya, “It’s more like watching moves on a shogi board where someone is trying very hard to make sure they lose. The pieces are all here, they just keep...being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or, sure not being in the right one anyway.”

“Nobody helped you before, right?” I ask.

Ritsuka shakes her head.

Considering, King David tilts his head and lets out low ‘hmmmm,’ then says, “…There are people here right now, for me.”

“Hm?” says Robin.

“Other mage groups—their representatives. Rivals, some of them. To bid. It’s possible, not sure, but, someone might be grabbing this opportunity for a little self-serving corporate espionage.”

“God willing,” says Robin, cracking his neck again, “Love it if some selfish spineless little prick picked now to do something that helps us. Enemy of my enemy, and all.”

“That seems plausible, but since we can’t be sure, I know there’s no point saying ‘stay alert’ when we all already are, but, be ready for something to go wrong. It might,” says Emiya, and then he grimaces like ‘maybe shouldn’t have said that,’ looks at Ritsuka, and says, “it also might not. Just pays to prepare.��

She nods, and we all turn to face the hall. Emiya places his hand on the wall again and I feel a faint pulse of mana from him.

“Yup, definitely a servant up ahead. One floor up, almost directly above us. ‘Bout one room further,” says Emiya, pointing, “We can take the elevator shaft—probably less likely to draw attention than destroying the floor, and if we do have someone helping us with some corporate espionage or just a really incompetent new security staff, let’s not make it hard on them to keep going.”

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maandags · 3 years

Note

Requests are open!!! *does an excited hoppy dance* oh my goodness the excitement. May I suggest a) something with Matt Holt, perhaps in an au with some sort of power (like a demigod or witch or ATLA au, etc.) or b) something for HTTYD with no pairing and plenty of dragon presence! Bonding/interacting with dragons, etc. Thankyouthankyouthankyou you are such an amazingly skilled author and making requests like this is a very special privilege. Thank you for sharing your writing :)

it’s Capture the Flag day at Camp Halfblood, and nobody lets you forget it.

of course, the nervous jitters get to you, as well. you’re not immune, even though you’ve never been a particular lover of the game. but it’s Camp tradition, and Camp Halfblood is your home, so you’ll fuck up your friends (and not-so-friends) every once in a while to keep things interesting. sure.

it’s Hephaestus, Demeter, Ares, Apollo -- that’s you -- against Athena, Aphrodite, Hermes, and Dionysus. you’re not worried about Dionysus’ kids -- their heart isn’t in the game, and it’s easy to tell. Athena and Hermes are the ones who will pose an actual problem, you suspect.

as you get ready, fingers making quick work of the straps on your breastplate, swinging your quiver over your shoulder (holding blunt-tipped arrows -- so they’ll still hurt like a bitch, but won’t do serious damage); strapping on your bracer, then pulling on your leather glove. you reach for your helmet, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the red plume sticking out of it. it’s tradition, Y/N.

“you think you’re gonna win today, L/N?”

you squint up at the boy decked out in full Capture the Flag regalia, a sword at his side and a knife strapped to his thigh, brown hair mussed and glasses slightly askew on his nose. “half your team aren’t fighters, Matt. not like you and I am.” you lean back, cross your arms. “let’s just say I’m not disliking my chances, here.”

Matt shakes his head with a grin. “we’re going to crush you.”

“HOLT!” both of you whip around to the source of the voice -- it belongs to a tall Hermes kid, one of the only campers older than Matt and you, standing with his hands on his hips, glaring intensely at his teammate. “stop fraternizing with the enemy!”

Matt snickers, then bows. “well. I guess duty calls. I’ll see you after we win the game.”

“you’re so full of shit.”

“I love you, too.”

as he turns, you shout after him, “I’ve got an arrow with your name on it, Holt!”

the team captains convene -- Matt’s sister Pidge, on one side, and an Ares kid named Tyler on yours. the flags are hidden, everyone moves to their side of the creek. as you walk, Tyler and Keith, a Hephaestus kid, go through the battle plan one more time. you’ve heard it countless times before, so you listen with one ear.

Tyler points to you. “Y/N, up in the trees. slow ‘em down as much as you can.”

“always, boss.”

“don’t get distracted by brown-haired sons of Athena,” Keith quips with a grin.

without missing a beat, you reply, “as long as you don’t get distracted by blue-eyed sons of Aphrodite, fuckwad.” Keith goes red and shoves his middle finger in your face, so you respond in kind.

“guys,” Tyler says, sounding both annoyed and tired and resigned, “focus, please.”

some obscene gestures and mouthed insults later, you’re stationed up in your tree, standing on a sturdy branch, bow at the ready, an arrow nocked. (special arrows. Keith helped out with this; you’ve got some stinkbombs, some explosive arrows, some sticky ones... they’re nasty. you can’t wait to use them.) you’ve tied yourself to the tree by your waist, having made the mistake of not doing so in the past and paying the price with bruises and cuts.

the horn sounds. the game’s begun.

border duty isn’t the most exciting part of the game. if you were a close-range fighter, you would have killed to be in the scouting group, or the flag-capturing group. but you’re not, so a spot up in the trees it is.

after a couple minutes, you spot the group of campers charged with capturing the actual flag leap over the creek like cheetahs, splitting up into two groups immediately after crossing over into the other side. despite everything, your heart rate speeds up, just a bit. your grip on the nocked arrow tightens.

then, out of the depths of the forest in front of you, three campers race towards your side of the creek. trying to go fast, while also being quiet. heh. not if you have anything to say about it.

you bring your bow up to your face and aim, loosing it almost immediately. elegantly. effortlessly, as Matt would say. it sinks into the earth in front of the nearest camper with a dull thud, and a split second later it explodes, sending dirt and loose branches and leaves everywhere.

before the three campers can do anything to react, you’ve let loose another arrow. this one, when it explodes, poofs out a cloud of thick red smoke, which rises high above the treetops. could just as well have been a flare. stealth mission? not so much.

but you’ve given yourself away, now. not that it matters much, now. worth it.

“FUCK YOU, Y/N!” that’s Lance. son of Aphrodite, one of the few who is actually invested in the game. (a little too invested, in your opinion.)

you blow him a kiss, send him a wave. “I love you, too!”

Lance yanks his fellow campers up, shakes his fist up at you. “you play dirty!”

“I’ve been here for eleven years, Lance. I deserve to play a little dirty.”

at that, Lance laughs. you narrow your eyes. “eleven years, huh?” he grins. “still can’t recognise a simple distraction?”

“what are you –” you cut yourself off, cursing, whirling around, only just managing to spot a head of brown hair zipping through the trees.

before you realise you’re doing it, you’ve already drawn another arrow. this time, as you pull it back, you breathe out, relaxing, concentrating on the tiny shifts of movement you can still see through the trees. behind you, Lance is still shouting – “he’s gone, Y/N, we’ve outsmarted you, just admit it, you’re gonna lose –” but you drown him out.

you let the arrow fly, and a whole second later there’s the unmistakable “augh!” of someone who just ate shit. (tangling arrow: its impact triggers the uncoiling of a spool of iron thread, hopelessly tangling the target’s legs.)

you throw Lance a glance over your shoulder. he throws up his hand. “for the GODS’ SAKES, Y/N.”

“do not,” you say, lips curling into a grin when you spot your group of flag-catchers, three strong, approaching from the other side of the river, the silver Athena banner rippling between them, “underestimate a child of Apollo.”

Keith and Tyler are being chased by a growing group of blue-plumed campers, but you know it’s no use; those two are fast bastards. for the fun of it, you send another exploding arrow towards the pursuers’ ankles. the dull pop! and consequent yelps make you grin.

Keith takes a final leap over the creek and skids to a halt on the other side. the banner shifts in his hand, from silver to blood-red.

he holds it above his head, and you let out a loud whoop before sticking two fingers in your mouth and letting out an insanely loud, piercing whistle.

the game is over. you’ve won.

you descend from your tree, dropping the last five feet to the ground, shaking your head at the mob of campers who’ve hoisted Keith and Tyler upon their shoulders and are jumping up and down. you cross your arms.

“fucking eh. I really thought we had you this time.”

an arm drapes itself around your shoulders, and you grin, shooting a glance up at your boyfriend. “I told you I had an arrow with your name on it.”

“you did. I’ll outrun you eventually.” Matt dips down, presses a kiss to your cheek.

“pfft. good luck with that. you almost fooled me this time, though,” you add, poking his side. “almost.” you look down at his red-streaked legs. his knees are also scraped and slightly bloody, but his eyes are twinkling with mirth. “sorry about your ankles.”

he sighs. “yeah. I think I’ll need someone to carry me back to camp.”

you shake your head again with a chuckle, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re so full of shit.”

#gaaaaa #THANK U ANON U R THE SWEETEST!!!!#SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I HOPE U ARE STILL HERE AND WILL READ THIS!! LMK IF U DO!#request #vld request #matt holt x reader

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jamkookies · 5 years

Text

We're soaring,flying...

Description : A trip to Malta for the shooting of Bon Voyage seems peaceful enough until the moment things take an unexpected turn...

Word count : 2.8k

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The bodyguard's head eclipses the sun hovering up in the sky and you're momentarily blinded by the brightness of its sharp outline. You try to lift a hand to shield your eyes but as your fingertips glide against warm bare skin, you're reminded of the unfortunate situation you're in.

Both yours and Jungkook's body are wrapped around each other like intertwined vines, cocooned in the warmth of the oversized sweater. Just like that, the fear of being captured is quickly overpowered by the fresh wave of embarrassment flooding through your body.

There are three men staring down at you.

"Jungkook! Jungkook, wake up! " you whisper-shout and tap his back repeatedly.

He doesn't budge, the soft sounds of his breathing somehow making the atmosphere even more awkward than it already is.

A hard pinch from you, however is enough to make his eyes fly open, face contorted into a wince.

"Ow! Why did you–"

He stops abruptly when taking notice of the three figures looming over.

"You need to come with us." the bodyguard says in a robotic-like voice.

Jungkook quickly pulls his sweater over your head to separate the both of you and as soon as the crispy morning air contacts your skin, it chills you to the very bone. He sits up and a grave expression appears on his face.

"We're not going anywhere. I made it very clear to manager-nim that whatever I do and whomever I stay with–" he flicks his eyes in your direction. "– is my decision."

"Manager-nim has only asked for you." the bodyguard continues. "She's free to go."

You can see how Jungkook's body shakes with the effort of trying to keep himself calm. He curls his hands into tight fists by his sides and clenches his jaw, but the bodyguard is quick to extinguish the hot flames of his fury.

"Please do not put up any resistance. I'm only doing my job."

It's like for a moment you can see a hint of desperation in his pleading eyes and that's when you realize he was just a mere pawn, forced into doing what his superiors told him to. You tug at Jungkook's sleeve, trying to at least make him reason but he protectively shoves you behind him, shielding you with his body.

"Where I go, she goes. I'm not leaving her alone anymore."

The bodyguard seems to consider this, eyes flicking rapidly between you and Jungkook. One of the men flanking him makes a step forward, clearly going for Jungkook, but the bodyguard stops him with a hand.

"Alright. She can come too."

You don't know if you should be relieved for not having to split up with Jungkook again or throw a fit because of what he'd agreed to. Either way, you just had to accept the condition you were in and go with the flow.

Your so-called boyfriend wasn't stupid.

He knew that no amount of his raw strength would be enough to take down three men who were trained exactly for this purpose.

Fending people off.

So he'd complied to their request.

At least for now.

"Please do not try anything. My colleagues will be watching your every step." the man says and throws a glance on each shoulder. "Manager-nim only wants you to return to safety, that's all."

"Yeah, he must be really worried since he brought an escort to turn him back." you say, not even bothering to hide the sting in your words.

Jungkook quickly squeezes your hand in reassurance. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm pretty sure this is just a misunderstanding."

He knows you won't fall for that, not even for a second, but he says the words nonetheless, trying to at least make the situation seem less scarier than it is.

The slightest of smiles pulls at your lips.

This moment of intimacy, however, is short-lived as the bodyguard clears his throat.

"Please follow me." he says and pivots on his heel.

He brings up the rear, not even worried about you and Jungkook escaping, since the two other men stick like glue behind your backs.

"Where are we going?" Jungkook asks, still not daring to let go of your hand.

"As I said, manager-nim wants you to return to safety." the bodyguard answers, eyes straight ahead.

There was no way in hell he'd let out any clues, you were sure of that.

You all silently make your way towards the main street, now far from the familiar safety of the beach and the shuffling of your feet is soon drowned out by the loud honking of the cars passing by. This could easily be called kidnapping yet they were leading you straight to the most jam-packed area.

The street market.

Being here before, you knew how hard it was to walk around without bumping into someone, so you couldn't comprehend why would they take you here out of all places.

"We should've gone the other way. It's too crowded in here." you hear one of the bodyguards' voices behind your back.

As they try to maneuver through the number of people milling about, they unconsciously come forward, now almost walking by your side. That only makes Jungkook pull you closer to him and you let go of his hand, wrapping it around his waist instead. You both try to push through the crowd of people buzzing like a beehive.

Something was not right.

Why would they take you here?

It was hard enough for them to keep sight of you in a normal situation, let alone in the middle of hustle and bustle, where you could easily mingle with the people.

Unless–

"I left the van over there so I thought we'd take a shortcut." the bodyguard says, finally turning around.

He points a finger down the street and both his colleagues and Jungkook turn around to look at it. You're just about to do the same when the sudden change in the bodyguard's facial expression makes you pause. His eyebrows raise intensively and he flicks his chin on the right.

Run.

You're frozen to the spot.

Was he bluffing?

As soon as the moment of distraction is over and the others turn their heads around, his face goes back to its normal state.

Your mind should definitely be playing tricks on you.

"Let's go." he says.

He goes back to walking but suddenly trips on his own two feet and that is enough to make him face-plant on the ground. Some people turn their heads at his howl of agony and to your astonishment, the two bodyguards rush to his aid as well, momentarily forgetting about their position.

You don't hesitate.

Grabbing Jungkook's hand, you start retreating with slow, unnoticeable steps. He finally catches on what you're trying to do and mirrors your movements.

One of the bodyguards helping the man on the ground lifts his head and his eyes widen in alarm when landing upon you.

"Hey! Stop! "

The adrenaline kicks in and you're suddenly breaking into a sprint, all while linking hands with Jungkook.

They weren't gonna kill you.

Not in the middle of the street, at least.

As far as you'd seen, they hadn't been carrying any weapons, which made it clear that your ex-manager only cared about getting Jungkook back safely.

Cursing yourself for it, you dare look around your shoulders and see the two men chasing after you like angry hounds, but when your eyes land on the bodyguard cradling his knee on the ground, you swear you can see the hint of a proud smile playing about his lips.

He'd saved you.

You didn't know why would he do it, what possible reason could he have to actually help you, but he'd done it. He'd given you a chance to escape and you sure weren't going to waste it.

You try to make your legs go even faster, but Jungkook beats you to it, pulling you along. Dozens of images of unfamiliar faces, clothes and fractions of limbs dart across your vision in a matter of seconds. Your legs are already starting to burn with the strain of running so hard, but you don't allow yourself to even think about stopping.

This time it's Jungkook who looks behind his shoulders and after that his legs start moving with a speed you didn't even know was possible.

"They're close! " he yells.

Not being able to resist, you look back for a second time and your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. Your pursuers are on your tail, so close by, it's a matter of seconds before they reach you.

You act on impulse, grabbing a nearby box full of oranges and throwing it behind you, making the fruits spread out all over the ground.

That should slow them down.

Apparently the owner of the cart isn't so happy as he shouts after you in rapid-fire Maltese.

You were pretty sure they weren't nice words.

Jungkook breaks into a fit of laughter even though the continuous huffing was making it hard to breathe.

"I can't believe you just did that!"

Some hysterical giggles escape out of your own mouth.

"I know, but don't stop!"

Both you and Jungkook fall in sync, the rumbling of your feet now louder as the crowd starts to spread thin. You'd put a considerable distance between yourselves and the bodyguards but it still wasn't enough. Not waiting to see if they'd caught up with you, you take a sharp turn leading away from the market and into a small alley. The approaching steps only make your eyes search frantically for someplace to hide.

Outrunning them was not an option.

You needed to get out of their sight as soon as possible.

Jungkook stops by every single door of the buildings, trying them out.

Locked.

Your breath comes out in short puffs of air, raw panic capturing you in its merciless claws.

Come on. Come on.

Click.

One of the wooden doors cracks open an inch.

"Yes! " Jungkook exclaims before swinging it all the way open.

At this point you don't even care if you're breaking into an apartment building as the only thing going through your head is to hide. You both quickly go inside, but due to your bad luck, one of the bodyguards catches a glimpse of your hand before shutting the door.

"Jungkook, I think they saw us." you whisper.

He looks the place up and down, sizing it up. There's a stairway zigzagging upwards and nothing but plain beige walls surrounding it.

"Let's go!" he whispers back and starts dragging you along.

"Wait, where are we going?" you ask but your legs keep climbing the stairs on their own accord.

"To the top. We need to lose them." he huffs.

It was surprising how he'd made it this far without complaining not even once.

You felt like dying.

Your throat was dry and sore from breathing like an asthmatic and you were convinced your legs would turn to jelly sooner or later. You stop for a second to catch your breath and Jungkook is forced to slow down.

"Hey." He cups your face with both hands and looks you in the eye. "I know you're tired but hang on just a little longer. Please."

You nod.

You would jump off a cliff if he asked you to. What were a couple of extra steps gonna do?

The rumble of unfamilliar feet adds to the sounds of your breathing.

Oh no.

They just wouldn't give up, would they?

Jungkook leans on the handrail and looks down at the men advancing on you. You don't wait for him to tell you, as you're already on the move.

Ten more steps.

Come on.

Jungkook busts the door open roughly the moment he reaches it and you almost go blind by the harsh sun rays casting onto your face.

Now what?

There's nowhere to go except for open air.

The sight of the ground when you drape over the ledge sends you stumbling back with a fresh wave of nausea rising up to your throat.

That must be at least four floors.

"Kook, I'm really not a big fan of heights."

He doesn't smile, too busy calculating the possible options lying on your hands.

Then he looks straight at you.

"We'll have to climb down." he simply says.

You slap him hard upside the head.

"Are you crazy! Who do you think I am? Spiderman? "

"Ow! Hey! " He rubs the spot where you hit him. "Look, that bastard brought a freaking escort here! I'm pretty sure he's not planning of inviting me for a cup of tea."

"How are we gonna get down then?" you ask with doubtful eyes.

He bends over the ledge and points at the windows lining down the wall.

"There's enough room to put our feet and if the worst happens, the bazaar booth is down there to cushion our fall."

You join him and take a look down at the thick fabric wrapped tightly around the columns of the booth.

"I really don't like this." you gulp.

"Me neither. Now come on. I'll help you get down."

You drape a leg over the ledge tentatively and hold onto it with your arms. Jungkook quickly wraps his hands around your waist and carries some of your weight as your toes reach for the windowsill. His muscles shake with the effort but he holds you steady.

"If you let go, my ghost will haunt you forever." you say, looking up at him.

He has the nerve to huff a laugh.

"Hurry up."

When you're sure there's no risk of slipping, you let go of his hand and splay your limbs across the window frame like an octopus. He joins you in a second, taking a lot less time than you did. One hand holds the window frame and the other one, to your utter disgrace, dips down to your backside.

"What do you think you're doing? " you yell.

"Holding you."

"Don't you touch my butt, then."

"Well, if you want to fall, be my guest."

He retracts his arm but you scream at him to stop.

"Okay, okay I'm sorry! Dammit don't let me go! "

You almost had a heart attack at the sudden lack of contact.

"Hold onto my leg and get down on the second windowsill." he says.

You obey, clutching onto his body for dear life. Your hands grab his shirt for support and then slide down to hook around the waistband of his sweats as you descend.

"You're gonna take my pants off! " he yells.

"Well, I guess it's my turn to touch your butt!"

"Just get down already! "

"Shut up! "

Your bickering doesn't stop until you've both safely reached the second windowsill. You breathe hard, every muscle shaking with the effort of keeping yourself attached to the wall.

"Come here." he says.

You follow him, walking sideways like a crab and you've almost reached him when your foot slips. Your heart leaps into your throat, every part of your body screaming in terror until Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you halfway up.

"We're gonna die! " you scream at the top of your lungs.

His body is shaking all over as he bears the weight of two people and you can see veins popping out on his throat.

The hand holding on the windowsill starts to slip.

Oh no.

No no no no no no no–

Your body feels as if being pulled by an invisible magnet, the force of gravity swallowing you whole. Jungkook's arms wrap around you even though he can't do anything to prevent the fall. As you soar into the air, the last thing you see is a patch of blue sky and two heads popping out of the ledge.

Jungkook's back is the first one that hits the thick canvas of the booth and the impact of crashing into him rattles your teeth. Your bodies bounce one more time before being thrown onto the ground and he somehow lands on top of you.

The old wound on your shoulder screams in pain, finally awoken from its deep slumber.

Jungkook grunts heavily.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, forgetting about his own pain and looking down at you with worried eyes.

Some of his long curls stick with sweat on his forehead, some dangle carelessly in front of his face.

You groan in response and your hand unconsciously cradles your shoulder.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay."

The owner of the booth crouches down to help both you and Jungkook get up.

"Inti ok?" he says.

"Iva. Grazzi." you reply.

"We gotta go." Jungkook says and just like that you're on the run once again, though this time it's more of a limp than anything.

After you've rounded corner after corner and made sure no one's after you , your back slides down a wall and you sink to the floor, completely worn out. The only sounds you can hear are those of your own and Jungkook's heavy breathing.

Then–

"I can't believe you touched my butt." Jungkook says.

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virtyt-blog1 · 6 years

Text

through their first few meetings, chloe valens doesn’t know what to think about shirley fennes.

the name first comes from her headstrong and steadfast ‘brother’, senel coolidge. while she’s heard of a girl, kidnapped and locked up in the bandit’s lair, not once has the name reached her ears. her sense of justice is what drives her in the beginning, a sense of duty demanding that she save this girl, regardless of whether or not they’re acquainted.

it’s been a long while since she last feared losing her life for the sake of another. she has no qualms running headfirst into danger, not if she can protect, even save another by doing just that. at the first opening, she slips away from raynard and coolidge, completely undetected in the chaos borne of their battle with the bandits, the stampede of their enemies' approaching footsteps. they would only hinder her, she thinks as she enters the hideout--

--and crashes down into the tunnels beneath, her descent courtesy of an admittedly well-placed trapdoor. while she wants to scream her frustrations, there’s little point in taking such action-- instead, she wanders the tunnels, wondering about the nature of the girl she’s attempting to save.

what is she like? is she kind? standoffish? will she appreciate a complete stranger charging through a legion of bandits to save her? does she even need saving?

she crashes right into coolidge as her mind remains occupied-- and ends up conceding to their logic, begrudgingly agreeing to aid them in their efforts. they share a common goal, if for different reasons, and there is little reason to work separately if that goal would be achieved faster by joining forces. with raynard and coolidge both at her side, they make quick work of the bandits and reach the room confining shirley, guided by sandor’s tip.

( the soft, terrified voice that floats through the door alleviates her earlier worries, and replaces them with a set of new ones )

she can do little but watch as coolidge attacks the door, eres fuelled by his anger, his desperation to free shirley. even she knows when one must back down, however-- blood seeps from his split knuckles and his teeth wear against his bottom lip, frustration and fury evident on his face as herself and raynard step in, stopping him ( though, upon further consideration, it’s shirley who stops him in his tracks )

they swiftly decide that their next move is to hunt down sandor, and make him talk. he’s rather easy to find, in the end.

the ensuing battle with moses is, without doubt, a frantic one-- coolidge is desperate to retrieve the key ( and she can’t help but wonder what about her drives him to go so far ) yet their unit is newly-formed, each member unused to his or her teammates. she doesn't quite understand how they pull off their victory, considering how well-knit a team moses sandor and his galf make. by all rights, there's no way they should have emerged victorious, no way they should have been able to take the key. any victory celebrations are cut swiftly short by sandor's second-in-command, and as the five of them stare out over the red-clad army force, she prays they aren't here for shirley.

she’s surprised by the wave of gratitude that washes through her as the key is tossed in coolidge’s direction. they return to the room and, distantly, trained ears hear the bandits' cries of war, and the clash of weapon against weapon. the unidentified army is working to their advantage, it seems, as escaping will undoubtedly be easier amidst the chaos below.

her hopes are dashed as shirley cries out from behind the door, and they barge in without a second thought. there’s far too much to take in, and as she glimpses towards the ball of swirling mist, she can see the limp form of a blonde girl contained inside.

she knows, somehow, that the girl she sees in there is shirley.

yet, moments later, she’s gone.

upon meeting the girl for the first time properly, following a harsh battle with her mystery-shrouded captor, chloe is glad to get the chance to know her better. or, rather, get to know her at all, considering she has little prior knowledge of the girl. while they venture through the subterranean passages, coolidge is nothing if not overprotective of the girl, who has remained meek and quiet. though she is concerned for her well-being, not a step is made out of line-- it’s a very real possibility that coolidge will lash out, and the two of them have certainly fought enough.

being quiet is not a bad thing, however. she’s able to discern the majority of shirley’s emotions through her body language and facial expression, and as the topic of the merines and the kingdom of terises arises, the flicker of discomfort across her expression is not something that goes undetected-- the topic is changed far too quickly for any substantial information to be gleaned.

the arrival of the oresoren drags out into the open what is undeniably a love for cute objects and creatures. it’s both refreshing and relieving to find that she has something in common with shirley, though in her case she has kept such affections under heavy lock and key.

as coolidge and raynard aid the oresoren in their digging efforts, shirley displays more sociability in a few short minutes than she has since she awoke in the secret passage. perhaps her subdued attitude was due to their large group? it’s noted that the girl is far more willing to entertain norma’s endless questions with the group surrounding her halved in size. it’s infinitely more surprising, however, when the blonde quite brazenly slaps norma, desperate to retrieve her brooch.

perhaps it’s such a display, combined with the revelation of why it’s so important to the blonde, that makes her stand up and scold norma, expression twisted into a frown and tone firm. soon enough, as the treasure hunter once again displays incredible levels of absurdity, she’s loudly objecting to norma’s backhanded attempts at getting her hands on shirley’s brooch.

some things about shirley remain veiled in mystery-- the brooch’s origin, her sister, a steadily growing list. she doesn’t quite have the time to think about it as they flee from the so-called “long long demon”, casting glances back in shirley’s direction ever so often until she decides it’s better to just fall back, keeping pace with shirley without much of a problem.

( she isn’t quite sure where it comes from, but she finds herself determined to protect the meek blonde )

it’s all for much the same reason that she rushes to hold off the long long demon alongside coolidge, that she positions herself in front of shirley when they escape the cavern ( through the door that the blonde opened-- on her own? ) as they face down their pursuer.

too many distractions present themselves as they mull over their next move-- raynard’s incoherent babbling about the now-fallen monster, the slight drops of rain ( oh how she hates it ) pull her attention away long enough that she doesn’t notice coolidge slip away with shirley in tow, unaccompanied by any of their strange group.

( how cowardly. )

when they next encounter coolidge, it’s both his comment and her fury at his earlier stunt that fuels her punch. sat on one of raynard’s sofas, she finds herself even more angry upon hearing that coolidge’s stunt has lost shirley to vaclav’s forces. even though the threat presented by vaclav is very real, she knows how ruthless the man is-- she can’t help but worry for shirley’s wellbeing as she teams up with raynard, heading out to port-on-rage in order to find the infamous ‘jay the unseen’.

her thoughts don’t leave the undoubtedly terrified blonde once.

the second time she encounters shirley, a wave of relief washes through her body upon seeing her unharmed. of course, the situation is at coolidge, rather dire, considering she’s still in vaclav’s clutches. even if she’s still angry at the stubborn alliance marine, she’ll put aside their differences for shirley’s sake. it’s perplexing, how much she finds herself caring for a girl she’s scarcely even spoken to.

she’s forced to disregard such thoughts as they’re enveloped by the cover provided from jay’s bomb, as they find stingle in the mist rather than shirley. while his prowess with the sword is undeniable, and eerily familiar, she’s forced to disengage, darting back into the waterways alongside coolidge-- raynard and norma soon join them, and they venture deeper in, searching for shirley.

she moves on instinct when she catches sight of two crusandi soldiers cornering shirley and the unknown blonde, and the satisfaction she feels when a single demon fang renders them both unconscious is undeniable. however, not everything goes quite as smoothly-- the other girl present, fenimore, hesitates for too long.

( but being labelled as their enemy is something that doesn’t sit right-- it’s then that she knows she’s missing something crucial )

melanie’s voice rings through the air, and as shirley turns chloe catches a glimpse of the shock, the fear, settled in her expression. she can only imagine what the terrors have done to someone they so vigorously pursued, and she regrets her lack of action, that she couldn’t get both shirley and fenimore out of danger quicker--

it’s those regrets that remain steadfast in her mind as the wave of water crashes over her, and she blindly flails, gasping for help. briefly, she thinks she catches sight of shirley diving in after them, hair glowing a brilliant blue beneath the surface-- there isn’t enough time for her to truly decipher what she’s just witnessed as her valiant efforts to keep herself afloat lose their effectiveness and she sinks, eyes sliding closed and mind blank.

when she wakes with a jolt, her first thought is whether or not shirley is safe.

their third encounter is in the depths of the ruins of frozen light. the woman contained in the ruins’ depths looks so much like shirley it’s impossible to not make the connection. this woman, stella, is undoubtedly shirley’s aforementioned elder sister ( and her suspicions are confirmed by vaclav himself, looming over them with smugness dripping from his tone )

they lose. she can’t see much from her position on the ground, stinging cuts in all the worst places and aching muscles preventing her from rising-- she can’t see norma, but she can see the top of raynard’s head, the mop of red that sandor calls his hair, coolidge’s glove as he remains lying at vaclav’s feet.

shirley, cashel gripping her left arm and stingle her right, expression twisted in a mixture of pain, worry and fear.

there’s a pang in her chest at the sight. such an expression belongs nowhere near shirley, whose voice is full of concern for her weakened brother. while initially unidentifiable, her attention is drawn to vaclav as he threatens the scared girl, offering her an ultimatum from which only he truly benefits. it’s rage, then, that demands she rise, put a stop to all of this.

she’s still too weak to stand.

it always seems to be the case-- when there’s something she desperately wants to protect, to make right, she’s never strong enough. instead, she’s forced to watch as vaclav stamps on coolidge’s back not once but twice, not a shred of mercy for the wounded fighter. all she can do is listen as vaclav speaks, telling them with mirth in his voice that coolidge and shirley are not flesh and blood.

with how deeply they care for one another, she thinks, such a connection isn’t at all necessary.

they’re moved to the back of the chamber after shirley’s begrudging agreement to vaclav’s terms-- she’s found some strength in her, resting at coolidge’s side with teeth gritted in frustration and unable to stand fully rather than kneel. she doesn’t even notice as the blonde’s name slips from her lips, tone somewhat mournful.

they can do little aside from watch as shirley joins her sister in the large tank, filling slowly with water, lit up from beneath the surface by the light emanating from the blonde sisters’ hair. whatever vaclav expects from shirley, now confirmed to be the merines, he doesn’t get it. no seal is broken, judging by his steadily rising irritation and his barked orders. more water floods through into the tank, and suddenly shirley’s face twists in pain. raynard’s exclamation informs them all well enough-- seawater is poison to the blonde.

chloe can’t say she’s surprised when vaclav shows no intention of being merciful.

the tank soon shatters, and she can barely see shirley’s limp form in the leftover puddles before golden light floods her vision and whisks coolidge away. the others all light up, claiming that shirley is guiding them out, that they should follow-- she, on the other hand isn’t so sure, despite the lack of any solid proof.

❝ but what about shirley? ❞ is the question only she asks. she’s told without hesitation that there is nothing they can do, that they need to hurry.

as she ( begrudgingly ) complies with raynard’s urgings, she glances back in the direction of the tank, mouthing an apology as she enters the escape hatch.

upon crossing paths at the bridge chloe valens feels sorrow for shirley fennes-- afterwards, what she feels is respect.

they step into the highest level of the bridge, each worn down by battle, yet no closer to giving up. mount zeriques stands proud in the distance, its image a backdrop for the ensuing battle-- or, it would have been, were it not destroyed by the nerifes cannon. when she speaks, her voice is steeped in both terror and concern ( for both her country and the unconscious girl trapped within the machinery )

vaclav soon kneels before them, defeated, and the operator wastes no time in fleeing. both shirley and stella are free from its confines, the former having awoken, drowsiness slowing the motion of her eyes fluttering open. a sight of relief sweeps through the group-- cut short by vaclav, the remote in his hand a very real threat.

walter appears, commenting not only on the fact that shirley appears to be well, but the fact that the cannon is unstoppable-- something that draws an involuntary gasp from her lips. she’s on the verge of panic, she knows she is, yet shirley stands at that moment and declares that they cannot let the cannon fire.

it’s more shocking, more worrisome when she demands to be connected to the machine once more, hoping that she can halt the cannon’s fire herself.

she’s soon connected to the machine once again, eyes closed, seeming far too limp in its clutches-- when chloe speaks, once again uttering the merines’ name, her voice is weak, shaky. the tense silence is soon shattered by shirley’s cry of pain, followed by the resounding thud of her form hitting the floor, ejected from the machine.

it’s stella who ends up stopping the cannon’s fire, and chloe is eternally grateful.

( there’s also a part of her that wishes she hadn’t, seeing the pain on coolidge and shirley’s faces )

every moment afterwards is frantic, as coolidge yells for stella to stay with him, to stay alive-- no matter how many healing artes raynard and norma throw out, however, nothing appears to work. shirley’s woeful cries are cut short by walter, barking out something about her brooch, pointing out that the stone once saved her life.

when she agrees, there’s so much hope in her voice it hurts.

throughout the joyful exchange there’s a sinking feeling in chloe’s stomach, one that refuses to leave. the weakened woman speaks to her sister first, wise words tumbling from her mouth, and when shirley responds the waver in her voice is clear ( along with alarm, fear )

despite their desperate, panicked cries, stella’s eyes slide closed. she breathes her last, coolidge and shirley at her side, begging for her to stay.

the pain in her chest grows at the sight, until it feels no less than suffocating.

they exit the bridge, eyes downcast.

( chloe hopes that shirley’s mood takes a turn for the better, and soon. she knows how painful it is to lose family. )

in the intermittent two weeks, shirley appears to have recovered from stella’s passing-- though chloe knows that forced smile all too well. she wore one much the same at her parents’ family, at all of the official meetings as the head of the household. she’s suppressing her grief, something nobody should do.

the merines doesn’t linger in werites beacon, however. she steps up, brave and tall, and declares that she’ll be living in the ferines’ village aboard the legacy-- as she’s the merines, she has a duty to her people. a resolve that, as a knight very much bound to her duty, she can certainly admire.

she’s determined to be a provider of emotional support to her people, despite her lack of merines’ powers-- she wants to do whatever she can to aid and nurture her kin.

chloe respects her, immensely.

when chloe faces shirley at the altar of the sea, she feels a very real sense of fear-- for both the merines and for her own life

their rush up to the altar’s summit is one filled with tension-- the cold bodies of passed ferines, gadorian-issue swords wedged into the dirt, terrified gadorian soliders fleeing for their lives; all contributing to the heavy atmosphere.

when they reach the top, the expression on shirley’s face is like none she has seen before-- and while she confesses she hasn’t known shirley for long, the expression is not one that belongs on the gentle merines’ face. her hair glows the same brilliant blue as it does when submerged in water, and the air around her is so different. it’s unsettling-- almost as much as fenimore’s lifeless form.

she demands answers from the knight captain, and the answer she gets is one that makes her feel nothing short of fury. his order is one that goes disobeyed, one that she doubts she could bring herself to do regardless of circumstance. the entire situation feels far too much, and with the emergence of shirley’s teriques a crushing feeling overtakes the atmosphere. she can see the warning signs as they appear; not a word leaves shirley’s mouth, walter and maurits’ hair taking on a glow similar to the merines’ ( and while she would much rather call the woman before her ‘shirley’, her harsh words and unfeeling disposition are of a different woman, one she has not once met )

while her words sound scolding even to her own ears, in truth she is worried-- worried for senel, weakened and sprawled out on the ground, and shirley, the merines.

despite her overwhelming concerns, she braces herself for battle when walter steps forward, yet while her determination may be clear her mind is not.

losing her eres is a jarring experience, and being hunted down by walter’s sentinel guards as they make their return to werites beacon makes their trip no easier. her mind is plagued the entire trip back, desperately trying to make sense of the events recently unfolded-- and worrying for the wellbeing of the kindhearted ferines, absent from where she should have stood at the altar, replaced by an unfeeling avatar of the ocean itself.

( she only manages to distract herself when coolidge collapses, and in the rush she forces herself to focus on the present )

crossing paths with shirley at both the mirage palace and the wings of light, chloe feels hopeful-- and has faith that the ferines will come back to where she really belongs

they may be worn down, yes, but in terms of their resolve they stand as strong as ever. despite the enemies blocking their way and the obstacles hindering their progress, they approach what appears to be the throne room. even as walter appears from seemingly nowhere, sentinels in tow, she catches glimpses of a near-completely still shirley surrounded by the throne’s eerie glow.

( she looks ethereal )

she stays back with the rest of the party as coolidge approaches shirley, watching apprehensively. while she knows it’s for the best that only he ventures closer to the merines-- no, shirley-- considering her present stigma against the orerines ( and thinking back on her kind’s history discovered down in the quiet lands, she cannot blame the ferines-- yet they need to come into the present, rather than live in the past )

from where they stand, the exchange between the duo is a barely-audible one. it’s unsettling, not being able to hear a single word, and she finds her foot tapping against the patterned floor, eyes searching for something to distract her. her search ends in failure as her eyes continually wander to the throne, to the beautiful blue wings adorning shirley’s back, to her hand-- outstretched and ready to attack. she knows that the blonde would never, and while she may not be able to hear their words she can see shirley’s expression. hesitance, fear, concern; all just barely concealed behind her stone-cold mask, tainted by doubt.

the teriques disappears and relief floods her-- the threat has passed, and she is so, so thankful that all appears to be well. she does not much relish the thought of jay making good on his promise. that relief is soon torn away, as maurits’ voice rings out with painful truths ( that she knew, she has known all along, and even with such knowledge she has placed her faith in their reckless ‘ leader ‘ ) and chloe doubts she has ever wanted someone to disappear more. shirley’s home is with them, even as her quiet tone betrays her disbelief and the betrayal she feels-- chloe cares not for the distinction between races, even as shirley speaks of it as if her entire life depends on it. in the end, people are people. shirley is shirley.

( the others’ attention is torn away as senel is blasted back, and even as she moves with them her eyes remain on the merines’ form-- not even she can hide her mournful expression. none of them deserve this pain. )

their trip through the wings of light is an arduous one, winding pathways and countless enemies, yet not one of them appears tired. it is their determination that drives them, their dedication to their mission-- no matter what, they will save shirley, bring her home. the light of shirley’s teriques shines from far above them, another driving force as they advance ( though they are soon stopped by walter, and by now chloe has come to understand that no matter the course of action, she cannot save him. he is too far gone, and holds within him too much hatred for senel to see her as anything but one of his teammates )

( she cannot help but think of how torn shirley would be as she watches him take his final, shuddering breath, and a hand finds its place over her heart. she prays for him. )

spirits are all but high upon reaching the altar, seeing shirley stood atop the huge device. amidst tooth-and-nail battles with maurits, she cannot help but keep a careful eye on the merines-- not out of distrust, never out of distrust. there is little time for them to react if something happens, after all. a knight must be prepared to protect that which is important, and such a mantra repeats itself incessantly even as shirley rises into the air, lifted by her teriques, and chloe is surrounded by crackling power. if she so much as twitches, pain lances through her, yet she cannot rightfully stop struggling. even as the others talk behind her, as she idly responds to the conversation, as spirits drop further and realisation settles in.

coolidge uniting them once more does not surprise her, and as she funnels her power into an attack on the cage that holds him she cannot help but wish she were strong enough to do what he intends to.

the moment they share is tender, though soon interrupted by norma ( oh how she expected that ) shouting indignantly their way-- all seems fine as the cages holding them are dissipated and the two return to the group, where they truly belong, though maurits steps up once more and she can merely blink before electricity courses through her veins and she falls to her knees. her ears ring and her body feels so heavy that when she finally looks up, the first sight that graces her eyes is a bolt of lightning crashing down on shirley, and suddenly chloe is biting back a scream.

their situation only sours, maurits’ acsension and descent into madness witnessed by them ( and whatever he did, she is suddenly so weak, and of course coolidge can stand. she encourages him, regardless of the anguish she feels )

shirley and coolidge fight back, inspiring words floating down to the base of the staircase, and she finally feels as though she can stand. she waits for none, blade settled in the palm of her hand as she steps forward, barking out her support, encouragement. she steps up beside them, beside them all, for their final battle-- and amidst the clash of forces, she finds her shoulder brushing against shirley’s ( they share a smile, breathless and strained, but she is finally at shirley’s side. from all that time ago, it seems as though she has finally completed her mission. )

gazing out over the ocean, for a moment, all seems peaceful.

during the brunt of schwartz’ black mist, chloe becomes determined to befriend shirley.

it has come to chloe’s attention that shirley is truly a wonderful person. each minute with her is time well-spent, each activity ( though so far few in number ) is enjoyable, made so by her presence alone. it is peaceful, and yet so much is shattered by alcott’s presence, by his true identity. the serpent that coils around his arm is unmistakeable, ink unfading. it is then that her spiral begins, she can feel every negative emotion bubbling to the surface, boiling in her veins. her aggression increases, as does her hatred-- for herself, for alcott. for the world, one which has destroyed her so, led her astray and dragged her true purpose from her mind. each time her mind settles on alcott-- no, stingle-- her hatred builds, frustration mounts. if it were necessary, she would mow down whoever stood in her way for a chance at stingle’s throat.

she leaves coolidge for dead in the rain, and she hates that she made good on that thought.

( in her mind, she can once again see shirley’s torn expression. no matter how kind and benevolent the merines is, surely she cannot care for a murderer. tonight she has taken a life, she thinks as she walks away, en route to take another )

in the depths of her heart, she is immensely thankful for the fact that they appear as she is poised to strike the final blow. she can barely see past the dark mist that seems to emenate from her very skin, obscuring the image of her friends ( no, she destroyed that, she destroyed that ) and as they spout words of support, of comfort and reassurance her hands fly to her ears, gripping her hair, blocking her hearing as the mist swirls harsher. a vengeful apparition of her younger self appears, one who chants a mantra of ‘ kill, kill, kill ‘ and, looking back, she despises the fact that she listens.

it is shirley who breaks her out of her trance, who makes her understand. this is not who she wants to be, not what she wants to do. slowly but surely, that voice drags her back to the light, and she finds strength in her friends’ support.

she bests the darkness within herself.

when she returns alongside coolidge and mournfully admits that she will be returing home, she is most certainly not expecting the slap across the face that she gets, the tears pricking at the corners of shirley’s eyes as she asks, pleads-- ‘ i want to be friends with you ‘, spoken so earnestly that she cannot help but sniffle, for she has felt the same way for so, so long. doing a poor job of fighting back the tears, she decides that she is home.

( she finds herself seated beside shirley at the fountain plaza a few days later, a conversation holding much depth giving way to familiarity, to shirley repeating her name with such a gleeful tone-- chloe doubts that she could be any happier. )

in the peaceful time that follow schwartz’ defeat, chloe knows without a doubt that she has fallen head over heels for shirley fennes-- and that is something about herself that she will never change.

happy birthday, @seaprayer / @nelfes!!!

#♘ drabbles #seaprayer #[ <3 ]#to you i would gladly entrust my heart body and soul ♘ [ shirley | seaprayer ]#[ happy bday / xmas !!! u nerd!!!! ]#[ ilysm ]#[ its the 6th here so im posting it here!!!! idgaf!!!! ]

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