Hu Tao Appreciation Blog

Hi I'm Alex and Sometimes I Remember To Write Things that Arn't just Dungeons and Dragons Notes. Mostly Genshin Impact and Final Fantasy XIV, Though sometimes its Vampire the Masquerade or even something original. 

[housedzemael-archived]

This! Is my homebrew setting Worldanvil. There are only two finished pages at the moment, Bat-Folk and Merfolk, but I hope to get it more fleshed out soon. I’ve got some repayment writing to finish for my friend (as thanks for the art on those two pages) but soon I’ll be writing about the mushroom people

[geirskogull]

Hey yes i haven’t forgotten this exists.

I’ve been working really hard on my homebrew world anvil! I’ll link up a few pages here when they’re done!

[geirskogull]

Moments of Calm - Part 2

+ Notes: 5.5 Spoilers Present in This Fic, Warrior of Light Danica Voss takes a moment to herself to perfect that strong silent type look by letting her brain get the better of her.

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Warnings: This is DIRECTLY The Mega Horny Part so uh NSFW But Beyond that, warning for praise kink i guess? I need to relearn how to tag things

Word Count: 6.5k

 He had almost forgotten about how fast she walked. Like wind almost. Moving with a grace and speed she lacked while dancing but made her one of the most formidable combatants he had ever had the luck to spare with. Maybe that was where his softness originated. The times she kicked his ass. The thought made him chuckle and painted confusion on her own face.

 “Something Funny ‘Stinien?” She asked her voice low now not out of sadness, but concern for those already sleeping. Though she had to guess the workaholics that were Riol and Thancred were already up.

 “No, no, just reflecting.” The look she gave him in turn was one filled with doubt. But she didn’t raise the question again. He was a bit thankful for that. Instead focusing on opening the heavy wooden door of her large room with only moderate creaking.

 Her room was some kind of strangely organized mess. Like A dragon’s horde in a way, really, if he was to go about and make poetic comparisons. Though he imagined a Dragon’s Horde was less plush stuffed animals scattered about and more golden coins and rare magical arms and armor, but if there was such a thing as a Danica Dragon well this would be a wonderful horde to suit them just fine.

 Danica wove her way through the hazardous maze of assorted fluffy friends towards her bed. Her Movements he could only describe as sluggish and exhausted. He followed behind, though unsure of any particular reason why. Perhaps to make sure she actually lay in her bed and rest? Perhaps because her hands still held one of his captive? Either way, he found himself uniquely aware of when she stopped and turned towards the large window that overlooked the now stirring streets of the town.

 "Hells, and here I was hoping to get a reasonable amount of sleep for once." She whispered, probably more to herself than to him. A weak chuckle shaking her form all the while. He felt some sort of relief knowing that it was a real one and she did actually seem to be doing better.

 "You're turning into me, Voss." He added in his own whisper, causing her to look from the window to him in surprise. She hadn't forgotten he was there, no, but perhaps she let herself get too lost among thoughts again. This time she was swiftly dragged back to consciousness though, the fragile little smile that sat upon his face proved thus.

 "Oh what a crime, I'll be too handsome" She joked in turn, scrunching up her nose in mock disgust. Yes she would be ok. Even if more of these bouts of melancholy and deep fear hit her, she would still be ok. Good. He would raise blades against the star itself if otherwise, for what else caused her such pains. He reached out for the hand he didn't yet hold, which she gladly gave to his grasp.

 "Oh stop it you." He huffed, a look of total exasperation taking his face. None of it true of course. He pulled at their joined hands, pulling her closer towards him, his smile losing any hint of exhaustion as her form ran into his chest.

 "Fine, fine." She laughed in turn, looking up at him with sleepy eyes filled with such gentle fondness it caused him to pause. Perhaps someday he’d get use to that look. A potential someday where they would get their rest and perhaps in that someday he’d get to wake up to such it in her eyes every morning.

 "I can tell them to leave you be if you want, let you sleep in." He offered, his voice a gentle whisper as he let go of her hands only to wrap his newly freed ones around her tight. She shook her head no vigorously.  

 "You need your rest too. I've kept you up all night." Ah, there was her normal gentle chastising he knew her for. The amount of times even early into their travels together that she sent such worried mother henning towards Alphinaud, himself, and others was countless. It was a static familiar thing and it felt like home.

 "Believe me, Dee, I don't mind." The nickname so omnipresent upon lips that felt uniquely intimate between them. Something he never called her in front of others. It was always Voss. Or Danica if he was feeling particularly testy. But never Dee, never in front of others. He couldn’t tell you why.

 "Then would you mind...staying?" Her request was simple and honestly should have been expected. He’d been gone for some time and he couldn’t imagine how much longer it felt when she was worlds away. Sure she wasn’t there for years like the others but - He shook his head and the look in her eyes told him she took that as a no and that was far from his answer.  

 “I don’t see why not.” He whispered, holding her tight so she wouldn’t step back in some sort of miscommunicated hurt. “Get comfortable, I’ll join you soon. It’s not like they’ve got a room ready for me yet anyway.” The smile on her face was one filled with relief and she nodded. Slipping from his arms with that same ferocious grace she was known for and dipping behind a screen to finally relieve herself of the days grime, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

 “I love you...” He whispered to empty air, like he had back in Azys Lla what felt like years ago now. And like all those years ago, his hands closed around empty air and he felt...lonely. Even if she was only a washroom away.

 But he couldn’t sit there wallowing in strange loneliness. Not while she was off doing whatever she needed to do to sleep and he was still there in thankfully cleaner than they had been traveling clothes. He couldn’t say the same for his armor. The ancient artifact he’d yet to have a chance to service since Ul’dah. He had doffed it and went to find her almost immediately, given she had disappeared so readily after the scions split ways in the main hall and it had concerned him. Not that he’d say that to any of the others. The looks some of them, especially her cousin, gave him told him they probably well enough knew why.

 He pulled at his top, yanking it roughly above his head and throwing it in some distance corner. Knocking over a strange cat-like plushie that once toppled over seemed to judge him with large beady eyes, its tiny golden crown slightly off kilter.

 “What something to say?” He hissed at the inanimate object, like somehow its plastic eyes were judging him. It, of course, did not respond. And could not be judging him. He sighed loudly, kicking off boot after boot towards the same corner, knocking over the doll and covering the judgemental plastic.

 “Oh gods, I’m losing my damn mind.” He shook his head meandering towards the mountain of blankets and pillows Voss called a bed and almost throwing himself upon it. Good, she still had a love for very soft things. He’d fall asleep in no time.

 “And still dressed. Here I was thinking I was taking too long.” Her voice from a distant doorway drew his eye, and to her form in but a large shirt that he was about 90% sure was his own. Seemingly lost long ago but actually just owned by a new soul. Not that he minded. It look good on her, slipping gently off her left shoulder as she navigated the wasteland of stuffed animals. He chuckled.

 “Got distracted by all the prying eyes.” He motioned wide with one of his hands while untying the offending garment with the other. She scoffed, taking a seat next to him upon the bed and drawing her legs up to her chest. Almost like she was nesting among the fabric.

 “Oh please.” She chimed, throwing her legs over his lap as soon as he was undressed and bed ready. “They’re just stuffed animals after all.” Laughter lit her voice and he found himself once more enchanted by his fellow Dragoon, much the same as he was when they first met. When she looked at him, staff in hand, with mostly confusion and probably a bit offense on her face, given that his first words to her were something akin to threats.

  Gingerly he reached out for her waist, to shift their position and pull her upon his lap.She did not resist, nor pull him down upon the bed to actually rest like was the goal but smiled at him. Wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace that brought a smile to his dour face once more. She had this unique skill really, to get him to smile so easily.

 “Well, perhaps they are to you. But to me they are terribly judgy little eyes that I want no part of.” In a burst of confidence, he continued. “ At the moment the only eyes I want on me are yours.” He hummed, watching and enjoying the gentle flush that took to her cheeks moments after. She yawned, a loud over dramatic thing that had her removing her arms from him in some cruel bit of acting. She was relatively good at acting, all things considered.

 “And they are, though they want to be closed.” Recovering from the yawn, she tapped his nose gently, all the while scrunching up her own and before hiding another yawn he wasn’t sure was true or not. Either way she was beautiful, present and most importantly in his arms.  

 “Hm... I find myself not too sleepy anymore.” He whispered, his voice lowering to that place between a growl and a purr that he knew would draw her attention and wake her right up. The smirk that took her face told him it was successful. Her hands dropped from his face to cradle first the sides of his face, and then down to rest upon his open chest.

 “Oh really?” She asked, raising a brow. It was her turn to be exasperated.  “I thought after how long I’ve kept you up and how busy a day we’ve had you’d be dead exhausted.” Though her words said otherwise, the gentle swirling patterns she now drew upon her chest said she didn’t mind staying up a bit longer if it meant this closeness.  

 “Aye, tis’ not every day one can say they’ve a Warrior of Light in their lap.” Almost on queue she adjusted herself there, so she was looking directly at him without having to turn her head. So she was straddling his lap with a growing cheshire grin upon her face. He smiled, his own hands taken to cradling her rear, pulling her closer. Their chests sat plastered against each other now, and this was a closeness he had missed.

 “Yes but you can say you’ve got a Danica Voss in yours whenever you want.” she chimed in, her smile losing its edge only to have it replaced with warmth she showed very few others. In response he brought up a single hand to her face and brushed some of the errant strands of her hair behind the slight point of her ear.

 “Well then, I would very much like her to stay there a while at least.” He leaned forward, making the already small gap between the two infinitesimally smaller, their lips but breaths away from one anothers.

 “She’ll -” A laugh shook her form, here she was talking like she was some other person recalling vague information about herself. “I’ll be sure to try,” It was her turn to brush unruly strands of white from his face, fingers lingering longer than they need be upon his cheek.

 “You say that like you’ve a choice,      my lady.”    And gone was the purr, leaving but the growl. His hands dug in hard to where he held her, and he couldn’t help himself but enjoy the faint near imperceivable gasp that escaped her lips. It morphed quickly into a chuckle that tickled his cheeks.

 “Oh, are you going to try to stop me, Wyrmblood?” She whispered in turn, ever so slightly tilting her head, and stopping those idle little circles upon his exposed chest. Punctuating really, her words with but one final poke square where his heart was.

 “Not unless you want me to.” He warned, and asked, in equal measure, as scarred hands moved up her back and lost themselves among her hair to keep her eyes locked on his.

 “I’d love to see you try.” Affirmation that opened a thousand flood gates, bursting at the seams with months of distance, closed finally with those words and a lean to both their heads. Lips interlocking with a ferocity behind them, and not a gentleness. A desperation that spoke of their time on the road.

 Her lips were chapped, and coarse, bit by the sandy winds they had experienced that day. His own were not much better, but yet neither seemed to truly mind. His mouth opened faintly against hers as air grew thin, though he felt no need to part yet. His tongue ran across the rough flesh, and when she would not grant him entrance he brought his teeth to bear.

 Teeth biting down hard enough to draw blood to the surface, but not spill it. Swelling her lips under affectionate abuse and causing her to gasp just enough through gritted teeth that his tongue could slip in. A grumbling laugh echoed in his chest, it was like the Churning Mists all over again. At least this time they had walls about them.

       Before air forced them apart, and allowed her to make any little snips about his manhandling, he pulled her close and flipped upon the bed. Dropping her with an unceremonious Ooph upon the mound of blankets. A giggle shook her form, as she looked up at him with wide mismatched eyes and smiled very much like a cat that had gotten into some cream.

       She opened her mouth to tease. He did not give her such a chance, slamming his lips roughly against hers again to silence her fiery tongue. Her spine curved up at the touch, hungering for yet more of his rough manhandling, she was notoriously impatient. He wasn’t surprised once more, given their months apart that must have felt so much longer for her. But he would have his fun, and her impatience wouldn’t stop his teasing.

       Payback for many a time before.

       His hands wandered up her form, catching on the stolen oversized shirt with ease and slipping beneath its ragged body. His scarred palms chartered familiar terrain, divots where blades fell, rivers of ink, the rise and fall of her hips and chest like a sailor looking over a beloved map.

       She whined against his lips, twisted beneath his touch, like a storm raging on open seas, and he once more the sailor gripping hard to his beloved ship with rough bruising hands. Her legs wrapped tight around his hips in turn, trying to drag him under. But he wouldn’t give up so easily. No matter how part of him wished to drown.

       Air once more drove them apart, but not very far as his lips crashed like lazy waves against her face, drawing back further and further till he dropped down to her neck. Eyes warry in watching the impetuous storm of a woman he called a lover as she twisted under his touch. When it looked like she might open her mouth to complain that he was taking too long, he’d allow his kisses to grow less gentle upon their slow trek down her form. Teeth once more would join the equation, first dragging down the flesh and then biting hard when she grew bold. Hard enough to leave marks. Hard enough to draw blood, metallic in his mouth.

       Her gasps were music to his ears. As were the growing sharp pains in his back, as her nails dug into his bare flesh. Digging deep pathways into his flesh that would rise red in her absence. Marks he’d gladly bear, of course. They urged him on, really, like her heels digging into his ass in turn and though he was sure she’d love if he gave heed to the growing inferno around his heart that demanded he rip and tear and take her as his own, he wanted to savor this.

       And he did so by dragging his lips further down her chest, slowly undoing the string upon his former shirt and pulling it over her head to make that beloved swath of skin he had mapped so well visible in the residual darkness of the waning hours of night. Something akin to a purr echoed out of his chest, but was cut short the moment he felt her hands bunch around his undergarments.

       “Oh no you don’t.” He growled, hands snapping from her hips and grabbing her wrists roughly. Her desire to move things along he had to admit was understandable. They’d been apart for quite some time, but this was to be savored and he was going to take his time. She’d challenge him there, but for once he would not bow to her precious whims. If he could maintain the strength. She squirmed, trying to wring her hands free but to no avail. He held them fast.

       She pouted, the kind of wide overdramatic pout that she did when she’d didn’t get her way that would pluck at his heart strings and had won her many a stuffed animal or other little gift she so desired. Though he held the command here...she held command over his heart. Either way, they wouldn’t win her a victory here today.

 Slowly he forced her arms up above her head, before collecting both wrists in one hand and holding them there. Restraining her, and painting a proud smirk on his face. “Patience, Dee, Patience.” He chastised, using his free hand to gently touch her face, enjoying the draw of her eyes when she could not match it with a caress of her own.

 “I don’t want to be patient, ‘Stinien.” She whined, once more trying to free herself from his grasp. He could do naught but chuckle at the act, truely. If he was a cruel man he’d sit there and just watch her try time and again to take what she so well wanted, only to steal it away from her with this simple little grasp upon her wrists. But he wasn’t, and she would get her reward in time but first -

 “You don’t have to be patient long,” He purred, leaning down right near the slight point of her left ear. “Just keep your arms right there, allow me to taste what I missed and then you’ll be rewarded, Dee.” He leaned back a bit, tilting his head and raising a brow. “Can you do that for me?”

 He smiled when  her eyes zeroed in on him and his words with laser like precision as she felt her heart pound in her chest. A war seemed be raging behind her eyes, knowing what words waited on the tip of his tongue but were not said. Words she wanted to hear just so badly. Her pride lost, and he waited till she gave the faintest nod of her head before releasing her hands which remained held above her towards the head of the bed of her own volition.

 “      Good Girl.”  

 She froze, stock still, barely breathing now as he returned to his languid teasing pace. Dragging his lips back down his minefield of marks upon her gently, reminding them with faint little nips that they were there to stay a while. In case they were apart again for any extended period of time.

 When his lips dragged over her breasts, and his languid tongue traced circles over her raised nipple she made her first sound since he released her arms. A sharp intake of breath as the cold bitter night air was replaced by the warmth of his mouth. His eyes flicked up, and a smile grew upon his face when he saw the palm of one of her hands digging into the others. A self inflicted point of pain to keep her focused on where they must remain.

 He’d have to test her resolve.

 When he removed his lips from one raised mound, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. He was being cruel, she had decided, cruel and mean and making her wait as he was torturing her by taking his sweet time, and not just bending her over upon the bed and having her preferred way. Her shoulders relaxed, and she stopped digging her nails into the palm of her hand as he stalled, oh so tyrannous, only to regret it immediately as he took the other in his mouth and grabbed the first between two strong fingers and pinched.

 “Ah- AAH” A gasp into the air that was much louder than intended. Poor Thancred next door, she prayed he was a really REALLY early riser and not currently in his room. Though... perhaps this would be pay back for all the times in the Waking Sands.

 Yet, she did not move. Nails once more digging hard into her palm, leaving deep gashes upon the flesh that would bruise on the morrow. She held her breath now, as he bit down and pinched in equal measure, just enough to hurt and just enough for her nerves to feel on edge and alive.

 When he raised his head, eyes lidded with some amount of pride, and released his hold upon her chest he let out a low chuckle. “Hm, seems you’ve passed the first test.” He gave the raised nubs one final flick before dropping his head below them, slowly continuing his brutally languid and sharp toothed descent.

 “I didn’t sign up for Exams Estinien.” She whined, twisting under his touch as if trying to actively avoid it but still not moving her hands. He leaned down towards her head once more, and left a lingering kiss on her swollen lips and smiled when he looked into her eyes once again and saw them red and cloudy.

 “Are you afraid to lose Voss?” He purred into her ear, before once more descending, tongue now tracing lazy circles down her toned stomach, enjoying the faint twitch of her every movement.

 “We both know I can out last you.” False bravado rang through her tone as each word was a struggle against her desires and her pride and he knew this well. It’s like he knew exactly where to poke holes to make her deflate into something manageable. The purr in his next words confirmed it.

 “So sure, so proud.” His free hand wandered and walked spider like up her torso and across her chest towards her chin, gripping it tight and forcing it up. “Very good. Now don’t distract me Dee, I’ve work to do. So look away.” He didn’t need to apply much force to get her to look at the ceiling and away from him. Damn him to all the hells.

 She took to biting at her lip to maintain some focus, to draw the nervous feeling away from the slow angel light touch of his lips upon her hips. He was being gentle. It was a heartless cold gentleness that had her parched for more violent and vibrant touch. It was calculated, as was his slow descent from the outside of her tattooed form towards the core of pulsing need that sat soaking the top most layer of her mound of blankets she called a bed.

 And she hoped to save laundry for another day.

 And he planned on making sure it had to be done tomorrow. Or whenever the two of them roused from bed, the world could deal without it’s heroes for a bit.

 As his lips danced around the edge of her old and frayed undergarments he stopped, fingers hooking around its hemline and pulling hard, but not off. His grey eyes lingered and examined the growing wet stain upon its dull fabric and found pride once more welling in his chest. She hungered and it was his fault. Good.

 "Gorgeous...” He whispered, and her resolve faltered at the sound of his words,drawing her eyes just barely to him without moving her head. “Look at you, so ready and I’ve only just begun.”  She whined, drawing his ire and attention in equal measure as her small movement no longer went unnoticed.

 “Hm, what did I say?” She stuck her tongue out in one vain hopeful act of defiance that she immediately regretted as the touch upon her jaw grew harsh, dragging her face back to look into his cool grey eyes.

 “Look.” He growled his voice dropping at least an octave.   “Away.” She could not stop her eyes from widened, nor how instantaneously she looked out the window, noting the sky growing light and the sound of souls milling the streets setting up their stalls. She hoped they couldn’t hear either of them.

 “F-Fine.” She would not beg. She would NOT beg. She was too proud to ever beg but she could hunger like a primal summoned off the lifesblood of it’s followers and he the sickly sweet aether that would keep her material.

 “Patience, patience.” A virtue neither had, as illustrated when he removed his hands from her form and returned them to the pathetic fabric that dared separate the two of them. She had plenty, and could mend whatever he broke. Right?

 He didn’t voice the question so he didn’t get an answer, forgoing his fingers to dig his hungry teeth into the fabric and yank his head back, animalistic joy welling in his chest and mixing with that pride at the loud screeching sound of ripping fabric.

 Air stung her sopping core and she gasped, the slips of fabric that survived his onslaught did not to help save tickle her skin. The gashes in her hand grew deeper as she tried to restrain herself yet that resolve to follow his command, to be that so called      good girl    that deserved the reward that had been kept from them both for months now remained.

 He chuckled darkly, seeing the pink glow to her battered form. All the way from her cheeks to his prize. A smirk to his lips as he considered his options. Torment her more, or claim their prize?

 He decided he would do both.

 He lowered his head once more, kissing along where fabric had once hid. Slowly but surely driving inward towards the pleasant sopping mess that was her core. She squirmed, the sensation too much even with the sharp bites of pain to anchor her. A short whine escaped her lips as the fraying strings of her resolve began to break into splintered ends.

 The entire rope shattered the moment he reached his goal, a loud moan punctuating it’s brutal end the moment his lips first pressed upon his prize. The taste of her viscous fluids coating his tongue instantly, sweet as a honey made just for him.  

 "That feels good doesn't it?" He asked, raising his head after his first assault, “but you want more” He paused, a wild grin taking his face as he considered very carefully whether it was worth the fun she’d poke at him later for his next words. “But you want to ride the Dragon.”

 If she poked fun at him, he could always shoot back that her nod of yes was near instant.

 “Just a bit longer then.” He cooed, before laughing at her whimper of frustration, using the act to hide his second attack. He rubbed a hand down the length of her slit, fingers growing slick with the same essence that now dripped from his face, her spin arched at the pressure and once more one of those magnificent melodic screeches of pleasure hit his ears. He smirked then, not giving her a second to recover before sliding a single one of those coated digits into her fiery core.

 Her legs grew taunt and her back remained arched off the blankets surface like she was a living breathing cathedral. He didn’t hold enough fervor in his ishgardian body to be above sacking it though. And soon the plunder would be his.

 His finger was immediately greeted by the warm tightening embrace of her insides that only pulsed faster with a fiery life as he curled it at the knuckle. She gasped, throwing her head back at the sensation, snapping her final bits of pride into broken little shards of self.

 “P-please!” Her voice was an echoy ghost of what it normally was, weakened by the dryness at the back of her throat, and the thirst that rested within. He answered her with a knowing smirk and the addition of another of his thin fingers to her core. She nearly threw herself upward off the bed, the dragoons' well trained legs a danger here.

 “Please what?”  He whispered, rubbing his thumb in lazy circles around the bundle of nerves that would drive her mad. She bit at her lip until she feared it might start to bleed. The corpse of pride still trying to save itself like some vain dying god.

 “P-p-lease.” She whispered this time, shaking faintly, using the last of her resolve to still yet comply with his demands. Yet how she wanted to look him in the eyes and plead with their mismatched colors, saving what little pride she had left by silencing her words.

 “Please.” He paused his movements, stilling the constant pulsing action of his fingers. “What?” He asked again, leaning forward and watching now how her entire body twisted against the stillness now. Starved with twitching euphoria just out of reach. His free hand rested upon her hips now, to prevent her from actually manging to reach that, from actually managing to fuck herself upon his hand.

 Though admittedly he would have been impressed, it was he who was growing impatient now. The ever growing strain against his undergarments was a pointed reminder of that. He could see her tremble slightly, bite her lip and fight against her will still. Part of him was proud, that will power of hers was legendary in      all    things it seemed but -

 He released his grip upon her hip and grasped her chin firmly again, drawing their eyes together. Leaving nothing in the air save the loud beating of her heart and the shallow breaths they both mustered.

 “Please...” She whispered again, he met her words with the faint trace of his fingers down her parched lips. “Please, I’m yours just -” The words were almost there, perhaps it he just flexed his hand slightly they would -

 “Stop! Stop Teasing me!” She squirmed, the inside of her growing tight around his two fingers. “Just Please!” She exhaled, her words more a strangled gasp than a proper moan. Tears now edged at the rim of her eyes now, and his smirk faltered. No matter what she managed to stutter out, she was at her limits and he would not push her beyond them.      

 “Take me, Estinien! I-i can stand this no longer!” And this time, she’d admit it too. Good, good. He had been worried for a spell, that she was too proud to admit when something was too much but then again, she hadn’t been earlier under different circumstances.

 He removed his fingers, tips dripping with her essence staining the top covers a deeper color then they started. She exhaled, and then whined for the absence and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

 “Do you want my spear or not?” He raised a brow, she responded with nothing but heavy eyed silence as her body relaxed from the precipice it had been upon. The cliff she had been so close to crossing. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out but a gasp for air.

 He took a step back, unhooking her feet from around him to shimmy out of the one remaining bit of clothing stopping her reward. That which she so nicely asked for, that which they both hungered for in equal measure now as he was sprung free.

 “Are you ready?” He returned to her form, gently running his hands down her warm body as he wrapped her legs back around him. It wasn’t that she wasn’t helping, but her attention was elsewhere now, eyes lingering upon what pressed hard into her thigh, mouth slightly agape in expectation.

 He’d never get tired of that look. Nor of the one he knew awaited them both at the end of this brutal joining.

 She nodded faintly, though, to answer his question as words now were beyond her hazy eyes. He voiced the question again, raising a hand to move some of the hair from her face, and then unwind her hands from above her head. Placing each palm gently upon his shoulder, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way they relaxed at his touch. Melted upon his skin till they almost became as one.

 She exhaled a shuddering breath as her eyes cleared and but one tear escaped them, one he quickly wiped away. Cradling her cheek in his hand with a reverence he did not even afford the divine. Leaning down, their lips met once again but it lacked any of the ferocity their earlier joinings held. Only pure gentleness, a reassurance to both their souls that they knew their bonds and boundaries.

 And then, still with his lips just hovering above hers, he closed that final gap and connected them. The sign of their joining the arch of her back into his chest and the low groan that left his own lips. Why had he kept her waiting all this? Why had he kept either of them waiting?

 Perhaps it was the sweetness of this exact moment, the jolt of electric sensation through both their bodies that was made more wondrous by the wait. But he could philosophise about this meeting later, when he wasn’t so focused on the shock of his starting pace.

 Slow, but increasing at a speed that could only be described as breakneck. Or perhaps, he would chuckle later, spine shattering. The resounding slap of their bodies together and the creak of the rickety frame holding up the mountain of blankets muffled the thought however, and the low frantic gasps of his name drowned it outright.

 Her fingers lost their way among the tangles of his white hair, grasping at anything to ground herself from the onslaught she had dreamed of. Wrapped in the knots, she inadvertently pulled, snapping his head back and issuing a deep growl from his lips that set her already sensitive nerves alight.

 “Again.” His voice was all rough edges, a husky depth with no end, but she wasn’t about to leave a request like that unanswered. She wrapped a strand around a set of fingers when she could and gave it a firm tug, once more drawing a sharp inhale from her lover and a noticeable increase to his speed. And to think she thought he had reached his peak, she gasped, near yelped in surprise, but she would not complain.

 If anything she’d keep her hands wound right where they were, tugging upon his white wisps he called hair every time he pulled from her even slightly. He grinned, teeth barred in rabid devotion,  though she could not see it, as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. It was his turn to beg.

 “Harder.” He urged her, lips pleading against his pathways along her neck. She gladly complied, grasping a full handful and tugging his head from its hidden perch, eyes heavy and hazy with a new found feral lust that had been hidden for but moments too long.

 What passed through his lips then wasn't the common tongue, of this Voss was sure, but even more sure was she of the meaning behind the strange moaned guttural sounds.

     "Good girl,"  

 Those sounds alone would have left her mewling, but in addition to the punishing pace he had set, one she kept egging on with ever faint tug it set her dangerously close to an edge she knew she'd quickly topple over. Red hot coils building into blinding infernos in her gut, breaths becoming ragged and short and constant, the outline of him, her fellow dragoon nothing but stars. She knew the snap would come soon and she'd be nothing but faintly twitching putty in his hands, at his mercy.

 "Mine. My Girl."  

 Sounds she hadn't expected to be the final push beyond electric oblivion. Panted words of ownership punctuated by frantic thrusts and growls, as he himself was not too far behind. She couldn't tell how far, of course, as her eyes grew blinded by the stars of euphoric absolution that took her senses far and told the world through one final moan of but a single conformation.

 "Yes!"  

 Her mind was alive in sensations, too many for her to comprehend. The press of his body, the erratic pulsing of her core, the blooming bruises upon her skin, the stuttering irregularity of his brutal pace that stalled and near stopped with a low wheeze and whispered echoing of her name as well as a plastering of her inner walls with a material reminder of the joining and its cataclysmic end.

 Perception spun out of control, and as she felt his form near collapse on top of her in one final wheezing flurry of friction, the only sound remaining in the cool room their ragged breaths frantically trying to catch up, and the pounding of their hearts in their ears. Before he crushed her, he rolled across the bed eyes focusing finally upon the crisscrossing beams that made up the ceiling. He didn’t doubt that she could realistically hold the weight of one adult elezen man, but that felt somewhat rude and at least here, he actually cared about that.

 Long moments passed in silence, words and language long beyond either of them. The sky grew brighter as night slowly passed into day. Slowly, as sentience returned to them both, and a dull ache across all of their bodies, Voss crawled close to him. Slinging a leg over his own and nuzzling her face into his side with lazy exhaustion.

 “Love you...” She whispered, shivering faintly as the thin layer of sweat the two of them had acquired during their act cooled them in the Mor Dhona morning chill. He reached far, pulling one of the hundreds of blankets she kept there over the two of them, fighting off the worst of it.

 “I love you too, Dee.” He whispered back, noting that even now her eyes fluttered shut. Soon, he yawned, his would follow and then.

 Well, they could face their morning later.

[geirskogull]

Moments of Calm - Part 1

+ Notes: 5.5 Spoilers Present in This Fic, Warrior of Light Danica Voss takes a moment to herself to perfect that strong silent type look by letting her brain get the better of her.

Archive Link

Warnings: This Chapter isn’t particularly Spicey, but overall this is NSFW

Word Count: 3k

 “Finally a moment to yourself then Warrior of Light?” Estiniens voice was a cool whisper through the warm Mor Dhona night air. Unceremoniously warm, if you were to ask her, but it's tepid purple glow was relaxing to her anxious mind even if the slowly forming sweat upon skin was not. It was sticky and gross but at least it reminded her she was material. That she was present and here and no longer upon any bloody field of battle where good men go to die. Where heros place their very lives on the line for a cause they may not fully understand the weight against.

   Estinien grimaced when his voice didn’t draw her eye. It normally did. Instead her lovely mismatched visage, gold and green like the sunlight through a forest canopy, gazed over towards the wreckage that was the Keeper of the Lake. Midgardsormr’s rest was temporary, as she had told him once when appraising him of what happened with Omega after Ala Mhigo’s liberation, but he couldn’t help but wonder if in moments like now when she sat silent and contemplative if she wished the Founder of the First Brood could be roused awake with a simple please and thank you.

   “Practicing the Strong Silent type act you have then I take it?” He chuckled, though it felt hollow in his chest. He hoped it brought her some sort of ease. Danica Voss, Ala Mhigan Native Scion, seemed to always relax when she heard him laugh, or in general display some sort of ease from a smile to a gentle nod to just having less bags under his eyes more days than normal. He prayed it worked even when the act was false.

   “Oh?” Her head snapped up finally, looking from the corpse of the primogenitor to the former Azure Dragoon. What greeted him did nothing to put ease in his heart, well... nothing had recently if he was being honest with himself. And as he liked to view himself a realist, he liked to believe he was honest with himself. Her eyes were red and the bags under them outpaced his own. Exhaustion sat in those once brilliant blinding eyes. And that smile that saw such good in him, even as he existed as nothing short of a monstrous creature of vengeance, was nothing but a faint dim twitch at the edge of her lips.

   “Sorry, lost in thought.” She chuckled and he knew it was as false as his own. The smile that grew on her face didn’t reach her eyes and only the rhythmic kicking of her feet against the edge of the cold stone roof paced with her true anxiety. Fast and surprised. He’d caught her off guard, and that was never a good thing.

   “Lost in thought and yes, a moment to myself. And before you ask, no you're not interrupting.” In fact he was a welcome interruption. Her mind had grown to lingering on her fears. On this new threat, Fandaniel and his odd Lunar primals. Once more the ever present threat of universal extinction was on the horizon and she’d only just returned.

   “I need to steal my rest where I can no? Otherwise there's no rest for the wicked.” And by the gods, she needed to rest. Every movement now was like a forced march, and her heart could only take so much. Her eyes dipped away from his own greys as a familiar escapist thought crossed her mind.  Fray had offered her Freedom from this once.

  “Or Righteous, as it seems more often the case for you these days Lady Voss.” He chimed, turning his back to her to place his spear near the door. Close enough that even on this roof he need just think and grab it without having to run, but far enough away that it was in no way capable of interrupting any gentle thoughts either might have. Her eyes widened a spell at his words, and he heard an honest snort of a giggle echo through the empty night air. The melody brought a true smile to his face in turn. She was still there, but tired.

   “Oh please, don’t call me that. I’m not some noble lady of Ishgard.” The faint flush on her cheeks in the moonlight was enough to tell him she didn’t really mind, but was just caught off guard.She turned away and motioned away with her hand, and he found his smile grew with his pride.

   “True, but you are  my lady  after all. Does it offend that much?” He asked, gently tilting his head as he strode closer. Gloved hand reaching out for her extended one, grasping it firmly, only to quickly intertwine his digits with her own. He let out a low, almost content hum as he approached, gently tugging at their connection to turn her form round.

   “Not if you sit next to me.” She answered, pulling upon his own hand, dragging him towards the edge. How long had it been since they last saw each other? Traveled by one anothers side? Her endless optimism and hope tempered by his realism. Azure Dragoons together.

   Too long, he decided, flipping her hand over and bringing the back of her hand to his lips. A simple yet dated action, unlike him in any other circumstance but uniquely correct here. Alone. At the top of the Rising Stones. Not a soul to see the way his eyes warmed with a deep fondness when they returned to her own. Nor the growing toothy smile on her face, and the light slowly entering her eyes as she felt at Home.

   “I suppose I can do that.” He chuckled, letting go of her hand only momentarily to take his assigned seat next to her. Legs hanging over the edge of the roof, eyes lingering over the horizon. No wonder she got so lost in thought up here, he was almost swept away in the current himself. It had to be something about the air. Intoxicating. Or perhaps it’d just been an unending series of long drawn out days.

   Words were not what saved him from the tide however. But the gentle press of her head upon his shoulder, and the wrap of her arm through his. Absently, he rested his hand atop hers on his bicep and looked down at her comfortable but still troubled eyes. Before he had a chance to speak however, she did.

   “You’re home.”  Her voice was but a distant whisper, almost lost on the night breeze. He blinked, taken aback, and was awaiting the inevitable ‘Where have you been?’ but -

   “I missed you.” It never came.

   And he found himself for a moment, unable to respond. A warmth blossoming in his chest that should have been familiar by now but always took him off guard. Of course she didn’t ask. She knew if it was important, he’d tell her. She... trusted so readily it scared him sometimes. Someone was bound to come around and see her endless optimism and dreams and kindness and open hands and hurt her for it. Wield the knife that would steal her from the world forever. Away from him.

   The thought of that turned his stomach into painful knots. It had almost already happened once. Upon the Dark, with that imposter in Zenos body and that wavering sickness over her. That broke her concentration, almost killed her. He prayed like then, he’d be lucky enough to stop any blade aiming for her back but -

   These were not words voiced to air. They were visible only in the churning grey storm clouds of his eyes and hers were closed to them for now. So his answer was in action and the gentle touch of his hand upon the back of her head. Cradling her form against him.

   “I missed you too.”

   His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, the words somehow not enough to convey exactly what he felt. His... lack of practice at this whole being a person not obsessed with vengeance thing was really starting to bite him in the ass and he hated it!

   But it was enough and his worry was for naught. Her anxious kicking legs against the stone stilled, and though he could hear it, he imagined her heart did as well. She kept eyes closed and just wrapped her arms around his torso, in a firm side hug that was a welcome gift.

   “Are you alright?” A question voiced later, as the moon grew higher in the night sky and the warmth turned to a faint chill. The silence hadn’t be bad. Neither of them particularly disliked silence. But it had felt empty which was odd for them. This wasn't the silence of being alone together.

   “No.” She answered so instantly that it almost startled him. The matter of fact tone, the way her eyes opened only a crack to make sure none else were around to hear her answer. It was concerning. Estinien had half the mind to just pick her up and wander inside to whatever room she called her own in the Stones and wrap her in enough blankets that she’d be warm and well... That wouldn’t have done anything if she was upset beyond probably give her another reason to be upset.

   “What’s wrong then?” He asked instead, taking the novel approach he’d been trying of late of using his damn words rather than sitting in a corner and hoping someone explained things to him eventually.

   “Where should I begin?” There was a bitterness to her tone that he’d seen only once before. After the events in Ul’dah. After the apparent assassination of the Sultana, blame placed on the Warrior of Light and the scions, and the death of many of her friends. He furrowed his brow, trying to think of how to answer.

   “The Start, I know you know I’m not the best with words so help me understand so maybe I can be better with them.” He exhaled the waterfall of words like a Coerthan avalanche and hoped she was fast enough to dodge the snowfall. Else he might have started her and he’d kick himself in the legs later.

   “Well then, let me say I’ve never been alright, Estinien. I’m just very good at faking bravery until it works. I’m terrified. I’ve always been terrified that one misstep on any of our parts now can just... break the world!” She unwound her arms from him and looked despondent at her palms,hidden by the omnipresent fingerless black gloves worn with time and constant usage till the fabric upon the upright hands were paper thin.  She balled them into fists, sharp nails piercing the fabric in already known locations. She’d done this sort of angry motion time and again.

   “You won’t though.” He tried to console, his words not false but too easy. Not conveying the fullness of what he thought. Something he knew the moment she pulled away. Eyes open with a scared rage that he’d seen once before as well. But he tried not to think how dangerously close he came to killing her that day on the Steps of Faith.

   “You don’t know that!” She exclaimed, slamming those balled fists onto her own lap in exasperation. Looking up at him with those wide terrified eyes he hated seeing. “No one does!” Perhaps it was in a way hopeful, this uncertainty in the future but it didn’t feel that way to her at this moment.

   “I know I don’t, and I know normally it would be you chastising me for jumping to the worst conclusion. But...” She exhaled and he found his words lacking. Stalling and falling off, like they were broken keys on a piano that ruined whatever song he was attempting. Her eyes fell from the terror and what replaced them was a sad, accepting smile. One he’d never seen before, and hoped he never would again.

   “You don’t have to say anything you know. It’s probably just good I got that off my chest.” She laughed, shaking her head at herself. It was good to air that but it didn’t deal with the problem she was well aware of. It just took the top level off the simmering pot and prevented it from overflowing once more.  

   “I want to, though. I want you to know that your fear is...” He pleaded, taking her hands in his one at a time, gently running a finger across her knuckles in some vain attempt to soothe her nerves that actually did a bit more than he thought it would. Her shoulders dropped and she looked away, down at the now empty streets of the adventuring town.

   “It’s good. It means you’re aware of what’s on the line. It’s terrible and eating at your heart obviously, but it means you’re not blind to what's at risk for your dreams of a better future." He leaned forward, lowering his voice not out of fear that someone might dare hear the former Azure Dragoon be soft - that sort of fear died the moment he made that recent mistake in Ishgard - but out of the intimacy it provided with his head now gently resting against her own. He could see the faint tears she blinked away time and again, see the exhaustion bleeding from her brows and hear the whisper she tried to hide.

   “Sometimes I wish I was...” One of those damn tears she had been trying so hard to restrain fell down her cheek in a silent sod. Leaving a clear pathway in the days dirt she had yet been unable to clear. Hells, she probably hadn't had a chance to clean herself up since the fights in Thanalan.

   “If you were, you'd be no better than Ilberd." He whispered in turn, allowing an edge into his hidden gentleness at that traitor's name. The pain he had caused Voss was inexorably present, still in her heart. The trust she had for him, the one who so willingly put up with her endless questions about  home without growing bored with the Half Elezen, the one who slew their people for brilliant dreams of freedom stained red with innocent blood. He shook his head, bad words really on his part given a second tear joined the first.

"I know but-" She shivered like the cold wind in the night was frigid icy blades digging into her skin, her soul even. She choked back a sob that she refused to let air. Proud. She was always proud. That much was true. “It... hurts.” She grasped at her chest balling up the ripped fabric of her shirt. She’d need to mend that later.

"Your heart is a wonderfully heavy burden to bear" He whispered, holding her in his arms firm, while one of his scarred hands gently wiped at the growing sorrow staining her tired face. It wounded him to see her so, and at this point he wasn’t sure if it was his own softness upon her or the connection they held as dragoons. “It’s so wonderful, and open. You see the good in everyone, and even when you can’t you manage to fish out the good they can’t see. It’s just so filled with love and hope for the world. So heavy with the weight of your dreams.” He continued an avalanche of words he hoped were correct. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against her own.

"But, perhaps consider not bearing it alone." He released his hold on her the moment she burrowed her face into his chest. Her shaking less now, her breathing more steady but the tears falling much more readily. That worked. Thank Halone that worked. A fragile smile twitched at the edge of his lips as he brushed hair from her face. Her long tangled black waves not unlike a veil of mourning around her face. Of all those in the world, she deserved most to mourn.

Did this silence count as mourning? He wondered as he traced soothing circles upon her back as intermediary sobs escaped her, muffled by his wrinkled coat. He hoped it did. He very much hoped it did.

When she next spoke the moon was beginning it’s descent into day. How long had they sat there in silence? An eternity? Not long enough? He didn’t know. But when her hoarse voice did manage to reach his ears as she slowly looked up at him he listened.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now.” She chuckled faintly at her own words. What was she some young child demanding more time up only to realize the weight of sleep upon their backs? No. She was just tired. So tired and this had been such a long day.

“Let me walk you back then.” It wasn’t a request or a question. It was really a demand and he hoped it didn’t sound like one. Unwinding his arms from around her swung his legs back towards the safety of the hard ground of the roof before reaching out with his spear and returning it to its place on his back.

“It’s just my room Estinien, I’m not going to get lost.” She chuckled once more, joining him by standing and showing she didn’t actually mind the idea of once more threading her fingers with his and giving a tired squeeze.

“Just, please. I’ve missed you after all.” He reached for her other hand to do the same, stopping it from reaching the door that would lead into the top floor of the Rising Stones, and only a really short walk to her room. Top floor. So she could do just this. Hide and brood up high like all dragoons should.

She huffed loudly, attempting to cross her arms across her chest but they were captive and she didn’t dare free them. “Fine. Fine. I guess that’s alright, given I’ve missed you too.” She shook her head, the smiling growing by the second. Ah, little victories. Freeing but one of his hands he pushed open the wooden door and bowed. Waiting for her to walk through and drag him with her.

[geirskogull]

Hello Yes I remember this place exsists.

I’ve got. Some things to Queue

[geirskogull]

The Gods, However, Remain Silent.

+ Notes: A First Person Look at Alexois post Vault, That I started last year and finished uhhh today. Angst with some weird comfort because hes not good at being a person.

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The Gods are silent today. They are silent as I watch them carry the body of a Good Man from the Vault. He’s still bleeding, just the smallest bit, as they try to cover his face. His arm falls limp off the edge of the stretcher they carry his shell in, and leave tiny droplets of blood upon the cold stone. They will wash that at dawn. None shall remember it having ever been there. Save perhaps me, and even it will fade from my mind given time. Hopefully. 

They are silent as I watch my Mirror walk from the Vaults Holy Halls, well worn spear in a white knuckled grip. Eyes glazed over and red with anguish. Hands coated in the same red essence of life that was slowly turning brown upon the cobbles. His perhaps? Was she so truly of House Dzemael that such an evil would befit her. 

No. For she is a Good Woman. Maybe not in the eyes of the Fury, whose cruel gaze was blind to so much, if she watched at all, but she was a Good Woman all the same. Better than I. Both of them far far better than I. She turns towards the Foundation, the body that was once a Good Man turns towards further in the Pillars, and her myriad of traveling companions go various ways that I quickly lose count of. And I too soon move from the spectacle that’s gathered a crowd of gossiping men and women towards what at first I think is home. 

My library would have been a keen comfort. None enter there unless they wish something of me, and its desk is situated just so that I can prepare for any request with an impassive face that displays nothing save that I am listening. Nothing that can be used against me. Nothing I can be blamed for. Nothing that my Father's constant hypocritical sermons upon the various tenants of the Halonic Orthodox Church can reach. But yet I do not find myself at its familiar door, with its faint light and warm carpets. I find myself at the far far too loud, far far too bright door of the Forgotten Knight.

It seems more silent than I remember it from my few times here with cousin Grinnaux.

I know that won’t last long. 

The doors are still the old splintered well worn wood that they were last time. The stairs still creaky with the years of usage they had seen. The murmur, muffled by the buffering winds of outside, grew louder as I descended them - almost of my legs' own volition - and took a seat at the bar.  

Danica was here. Had I followed her? I don’t know, even now. She sat far across the bar from me with a bottle of something left by her hand and eyes tracing the woodgrain upon the counter. She looked... hollow. The Bravado and brightness normally found in the mirror of my eyes was gone, and their luster dulled.  If anything, she’d become more of a mirror of myself and...

I sat next to her before I realized I had moved. She looked up at me, and where I expected to be admonished, to be yelled at and pushed away, instead I was greeted by a silence and a weak smile that brought a frown to my own face.

When we had first met in Coerthas, during that debacle with the imposter inquisitor, I treated her and her ilk with the disdain expected of me. I was cruel, and cold, the pointed politeness that tells people they are not wanted there. Yet despite that, still she and her compatriots fought forward. Cleared Francel, Found the truth. Brought the Heretic Inquisitor to justice.

“He brought so many Heretics to their rightful ends.” The Faithful had said at first. “He is a good and righteous man, blessed by Halone.” They praised him even as he sent innocent people, hells even innocent children to their death at witchdrop. To prove their innocence in death. 

How quickly they turned on each other, on their neighbor, at the simplest sign of “heresy” and then as soon as his farce was revealed, prayed for those lost like they hadn’t been cheering for their deaths. 

“Justice” was brought, yes, but Justice wouldn’t bring those sacrificed back. Won't mend their bones as they lay abandoned upon Witchdrops floor. 

And sitting there, in the Forgotten Knight, I was uniquely reminded of that. What would they say about him, Lord Haurchefant, in the days to come? How would he be remembered, in a land that hated him simply for the circumstances of his birth. Bastard. Greystone. 

Danica turned from me to her drink, and I felt a sadness well in me I thought I had long since learned to quell. The kind that Father would inspire when I was young. The Kind that on occasion, I could feel trying to tear to the surface of my heart when Father spoke, and then Trell spoke. But no, I would never allow it would I. One of House Dzemael does not concern themselves with the simple matter of Love. 

“Did you love him?” I ask before I even realize that I have spoken, and when she looked at me next at least her eyes were not empty. There was sadness, and rage, and something I think akin to shame. 

“Of course I do, He is my best friend.” She responded, words a hoarse whisper that betrayed that she must have been crying earlier. Present tense still soaking her words, as if he was merely sleeping. I barely knew this man, but I felt my heart break for her all the same. She really was my mirror after all. Where I barely reacted, I was a stone faced mirror of indifference. She felt everything with the intensity of a thousand calamities. It was a wonder, to me at least, that she was still standing.

“Then what do you plan to do about it?” I asked, leaning forward upon the uncomfortable bar stool that I never understood how Cousin Grinnaux could stand. Had he been here lately? He’d been so... different in his brutality of late. Focused. Unlike the wild storm that was himself. I shook my head, attempting to focus my thoughts but no doubt looking like a cruel judge upon her, or the Good Man’s character.

“The one thing I’m good at.” She hissed, a hollow laugh following, echoing through the Knight like she was screaming into the void. Lunging forward on her own stool, near falling off of it onto the ground she grabbed my collar and I full expected for her to slam my head upon the table. I’d have deserved it with my inconsiderate questions, as I always do, but she didn’t. Merely dropping her hands and head to the table and letting out a strangled cry. 

“Rhaglr please, wake me up from this nightmare.”

A plea to an unfamiliar god, but one I was sure would remain as unanswered as all of mine were. Bile rose at the back of my throat and rage sang in my gut. How dare they? How dare they remain silent over this cruelty spilled from by others in their name. In the name of a stupid holy war. In spite of this suffering, or perhaps because of it. Their silence rang loud like screams of the damned.

But I decided then, as my mirror, my cousin, the family my father would have me forget, sat in the Forgotten Knight staining the wood with her tears, that I would not do the same. I would remain silent no longer as these fools I called country men slew the few damn Good Men we have, and break the hearts of those who try to save us. I would be the prayers that were not answered for me, or for her, or for that Good Man whose body I watched be carried away to where most would never recall his name. 

I gingerly put my hand upon her shoulder, fearful of what angry reaction I might provoke from my cruel question. But my worry was for naught, save that she continued to mourn. Perhaps I would have preferred she got angry at me. I at least know how to handle that.

“When you’ve decided, let me know.” I started, causing her to slowly turn her head and raise a brow at me, confusion joining the tears in her eyes. “Because I’m going with you, I may not be an Azure Dragoon or an acclaimed scion and God Killer but I fought in this war all the same. I know how to handle myself and my magic is at your disposal.”

For once, I found I didn’t mind the idea of my skills being at someone else’s command. My Mirror, she is a Good Woman, she will... she won’t ask what they asked of me. 

“I’ve decided I need a hug.” Her words, a whisper, snapped me from my thoughts of my blood stained, terribly burnt hands to confirm I was right. A small smile cracked upon my face without a seconds restraint, no worry about who of my fathers men might see me. 

I held my Dear Cousin close and let her cry. 

[geirskogull]

Empty Mirror and Empty Grave 

+ Notes: A Short Vampire the Masquerade AU for Danica and Alex, This is Chapter 1 of 4 for this series, from the point of view of the newly embraced Lasombra Alexander Voss for this first chapter. 

Chapter 1 - The Same Deep Water as You

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Icy water splashed hard against an even cooler face, a shaky exhale followed as the water pooled a tepid rusty pink in the ceramic bowl of the sink. Strange, what living habits clung to a dead man’s body, like memories fused to him with glue that spurned him to tears, yet twisted the salty brine that would have flowed from his eyes to a sickly vital red. 

Alexander thought then that  he should be laughing. That he should be cackling in victory over those who attempted to see him for their own personal gain, his father, his grandfather, this new vampiric patron who called himself sire. Yet his mind recognized in this end he was once again the true victim, but neither his mind nor his heart could contort the man’s memories to make them spell that out for him. Stubborn as always. Just like his sister. 

If he hadn’t known of the particularities of this curse, his curse, he may have tried to rationalize the ashy smudge that greeted him instead of his own tired, gauntface in the mirror. It would have been in vain, as  he knew better, he knew mirrors didn’t break like that. Hell he probably would have spent hours trying to scrub clean imaginary grime just to see his dead mossy green eyes. He always thought the color of rot suited him. Beyond that mournful rumination though, he also knew without his reflection, he looked a right mess if his sire, that figure of ruthlessness and shadows he met only a handful of times, counting his own death, saw him like this his new eternity would be over before it even began. 

So he returned to those empty habits he had once relied upon so much, inhaled deeply, straightened his shoulders, and ran cold hands across his face to remove the bloody tears tracks that dug their way there as best as he could with a smudgy mess as his guide. Another splash of water just in case, and another for good measure, and then a third till the pool was clear and he was sure the relics of his weakness swirled  down the drain, relics of shame he would never share. If he is to live forever, he would not allow it to be in vain.

“What do you want with me?” Terse words from an estranged sister echoed through his memory as he dried his face. “Arn’t you afraid dear old dad’ll axe you too, Alex?” She had hissed across a tiny café table that was more splinters held together with gorilla glue than actual wood then. Cross legged, angry and closed off, as he expected, but with sharp green eyes and new scars he didn’t remember being there last time he saw her. Those five years had changed them both so much. Then, he wondered if there was still anything left to save, left to salvage of their friendship. 

He laughed then, a bitter biting thing that painted fear across his twin sister’s face, only to be replaced with  sadness once its teeth were fully in her skin. A heavy silence hung around them in it’s wake, as if his cooling tea and her hot chocolate turned glorified chocolate milk were iron weights around their legs, dragging them to the ocean floor. 

He threw a clean black dress shirt over his shoulders and began to button it. Blinking away fresh bloody tears that threatened to spill over his still damp cheeks and the bittersweet memory in equal measure. As the visage of her hand reaching across that rough wooden sea to grasp his own terrified digits swelled in his minds, he paused.

“I’ve missed you so much, Dee.” Whispered words repeated from those recollections to nothing but the cold empty air around him. He dug his teeth into his lips, for he feared he was on the verge of sobbing once more. Once was more than enough for a night, thank you.

Oh if only he hadn’t traveled to this damn city on the guise of looking for school,only to actually be looking for her. If only he had taken the token acceptances thrown his way by those big name medical schools, all thanks to their father’s well placed donations and not in any way thanks to the intellect he believed he had. If only he hadn’t spent every cent he earned  on his own looking for his best friend that had been chased from their childhood by the bastard that sired them both, guilty only of the crime of dreaming. 

Perhaps then, they would still be truly alive. 

And not one unbreathing corpse masquerading as a living man, and the other... 

He dabbed a cold hand against his eyes, fearing the weakness of his resolve. Now is not the time to reflect, Alexander. He chastised himself bitterly, his own tone harsh. And even if it was, what would she think, seeing you now? Seeing you like this? A broken shell of a broken shell, huddling in his home not even willing to try this new gift out.

She’d tell him to relax, to lighten up. She’d ask about his class work and bring one of the animals she was fostering to sit on his lap. That’s how he ended up with Minet, wasn’t it? A loud meow near his feet confirmed his idle musings. Red eyes looking down into one cat-like yellow one, upon  a sea of black fur interrupted only by a terribly gaudy red collar and its pretty little bell. 

The vampire sniffled, kneeling down and giving the kitten a faint but honest grin. Ah his dear little constant. He found himself drawing his cold hands through soft fur and humming gently as the small cat began to purr. 

“Ah, so deep in my melancholy I forgot the most important job in my days!” A chuckle echoed in the cool air, and was answered by another dignified meow.  “Yes, yes, I know. Food is late, let’s go my dear one.”

“He’s friendly Alex, I promise.” Danica chuckled, her sing songy voice not exactly inspiring confidence, as she held a  small black bundle of fur and claws close to her chest. He hadn’t even looked up then, far too stressed out over his classwork, a med student more anxiety and coffee than flesh and blood at the present. He had more in common with the scattered cups of the stuff over his sisters home that he did her at the moment. \

“Last time I checked, tiny felines were not a requirement for me to pass my finals.” He had snipped up at her then, only to be met in turn with a very loud, very squeaky, and most definitely disappointed meow. Thankfully it was jarring enough to force the crooked man to right his posture and gaze at the single defiant eye of the feline now held ungracefully out towards him. 

"It's not, but it'll be good for what remains of you after said finals big brother"

"I'm only like two minutes older , Dee."

"And that's the first time you haven't lorded it over me, now hold the damn cat and relax Alex."

The loud, metallic jingle of kibble into a custom red bowl, the same shade as that tacky collar,  rescued the dead man from the clutches of his memories once more. Following suit was a very content and loud purr from the aforementioned Minet, King of the Flat, as he completely forgot about Alexander, Owner of the Flat, and dove straight into his food with a vigor he showed little else. Another shakey, yet unneeded, exhale left the vampire. This time at least sounding something akin to a weak  wheezy chuckle and not a barely restrained sob. 

Good kitty. 

Very good kitty.

Alexander Voss gave the fluffy menace a few polite yet ignored pats before standing and facing his evening once again. He did have orders after all, and what else had he been his entire life but a loyal, dutiful, gopher for his father and his father’s goals. Why would that change in death? 

The comedy was not lost on him, given the orders this time were “Go, enjoy yourself for a night.” As if he even knew where to start! A bitter laugh erupted from him, consuming the silence of the apartment like a mad hungry flame. Lingering in the expanse of once pleasant memories, turning them to ash in his mouth, was definitely not a good start.

But he would not fail, not again. Not at any task.

So even with the added “difficulty” of not being able to see himself in the mirror, he silently swore to his reflection that he would forge himself anew of black shadowy steel. He would be a tool for himself, not for this new vampiric father he found himself beholden to, not for the visible ghosts of his  first victims and the invisible ghost of his sister, but for himself. A revolutionary statement in his mind that would take some getting used to, and a great deal of planning to accomplish.

With the weight of his memory as the ink upon the paper of his oath, and the cold wind beyond his door the dust sprinkled upon it, he now just needed to find the wax and the stamp and it would be eternal.. As he twisted the polished silver door handle of the apartment, he closed his eyes. A stillness taking him as he silently considered this new plan brewing in the blackness in his mind. 

He shoots a careful glance back at Minet over his shoulder as the cold winter wind knocked at his coat and mussed his long, unkempt ponytail. The one eyed feline, for his part, licked at his paws absently, full from his regal meal and oblivious to his servants troubles.

“I’ll be back.”

His words were largely ignored, but the flittering familiar shades at the edge of his vision seemed to nod, almost in approval. Strange from such stern faces, barely perceivable in the messed watercolor of their forms, but still uniquely themselves. 

Facing forward, he inhaled, the last act of his old dying world, and faced a new beginning.. A pang of thirst in his gut forced a strange wolfish smile upon his face, sharp toothed and hungry. First goal of the evening, of his first free night, find a drink.

He would need the energy for what he had planned.

[geirskogull]

Habit - A Zhongli x Reader Drabble

+ Notes: This is the first thing I’ve a. finished in a while b. written from Genshin and c. posted in nine million years so uh enjoy! It wasn’t written with a guide in mind and was mostly just a train of thought thing. <3  Archive Link 

Liyue. 

Your home for the past who knows how long and hopefully, your home forever more. You enjoyed the small habits you built up in the city, walking its streets of gold, enveloped in the sensations that float its air. The weight of history built into every cobble and sparked by every word you heard from your favorite habit. 

A small smile twitched at the edge of your lip as you thought as much, small enough that said habit, Mr. Zhongli, did not notice. He continued on, as he ever did on your morning walks, about the storied legends of home itself speaking with the personal experience that his ages brought. Your hand snuggly between his own as you walked, swinging gently in the breeze, this was an eternity you would willingly embrace. 

But that did not leave you without questions, as you listened to him prattle on about the finer qualities of jade used in certain products like the melodious encyclopedia he was. Why was it then that he had decided to add you to his own habit, his own solitary morning walk?

“My Dear, [y/n], is something the matter?” 

His voice snapped you from that very question that must have been worming its way upon your furrowed brow. You looked at him and smiled wide and honestly, it was a silly question really but one that stirred your heart to air it and ease any accidental anxiety you may have spiked in the strange ancient man you had found yourself with. 

Wasn’t fate just.... So interesting. 

“Oh just fine, Zhongli, just curious.”

“Oh? About What?”

He asked in turn, taking a step closer and encompassing your joined hands in his free one. It was moments like this that made you appreciate how warm his hands were. It wasn’t particularly chilly today but, the heat that enveloped your hand made even the empty morning streets feel as comfortably homey as your joint apartment. It made you think of the first time you joined him on his walk, asking him awkwardly after seeing him time and again on your way to your own work, and how electric his agreement felt. 

Perhaps your coworkers were right, you fell for the strange dour knowledgeable gentlemen known as Zhongli the moment you saw him. 

“Why did you agree to let me accompany you, those years ago?”

You asked, raising a slight brow as if to say you really didn’t need an answer but yet he seemed determined to give you one. Breaking the warmth you basked around your hand he raised a finger to his lips. His mind wouldn’t give him an answer, honestly. Why had he done such? Was it a mortal whim? A desire for companionship beyond that which the traveler, his coworkers or even childe could provide? Was it some curiosity about what book made you purse your lips as you read and walked on your way to work bumping into him at least a half dozens times or -

None of these answers sufficed to him, none of them were correct. For once the man of limitless stories and knowledge that you loved to absorb with every day was silent. But he could not leave you without an answer. 

Gingerly he fished your other hand from your side and brought them both close to his face. He hesitated, as if perhaps the words would come to him but - nay, you felt the warmth of lips upon the back of your hands. Pressed reverently, gently, filled with the devotion and warmth he suddenly lacked the words for and you found yourself perfectly answered. 

Actions, it seemed, served him just as well as words, and for that you were thankful. 

[geirskogull]

Steel Reign - Chapter 6 -  Pray Return to the Waking Sands

Chapter 6 is here and finally done. Not as happy as I’d like to be with it but hey sometimes that happens.

Archive Link

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.6k

Caolan Haustefort ran a thin finger over the two now mostly healed cuts along his jaw and underneath his eye. They’d leave scars, thin ones across half his visage, but nothing that wouldn’t be considered dashing upon the face of a would be famous pirate. He gave his reflection the most dashing smile he could muster, and promptly winced in pain instead. Still sore, why did handsome scars have to be as painful as regular ones?

Laughing a bit at himself, he shook his head. His clarity of thought must still be clouded by remnants of adrenaline. Just two hours before, rushing through the desert, his friends body in his arms.

Kicking down the door to the first building a poor terrified Lalafel merchant had pointed out as the Waking Sands, Caolan Haustefort announced his presence commanding nothing less than the occupants full attention. He had hoped, somewhere in his mind, that it would be only the one who sent his dear, unconscious, friend on her ill fated mission, but instead found the confused eyes of another Lalafel and a Hyur man sitting in a circle, cloth spread across their laps.

Out of breath, mind running a million miles an hour, the elezen managed to bark out a single question with much more hostility than he would have liked.

“Wheres Urianger?” His words were clear, and sharp, like a blade aimed at the hearts of the two unfamiliar scions. He’d entrust his friend turned primals care to no other than the individual he deemed responsible. For her part, the Lalafel woman scrambled to her feet and towards him. Looking anxious and panicked at the still warrior in his arms. She didn’t stop to demand his name or ask how he came to find Danica this way, and merely ran further into the building. Down some stairs, and down the corridor he could not see the end of.

The Hyur was not so adamant in letting Caolans mysterious, and honestly quite suspicious appearance with an injured friend go without question. Standing with a huff, he put himself between the Elezen and the pathway in which the Lalafel had walked, which Caolan had planned on following her down.

“And who exactly are you?” His words bit back with just as much blade as Caolan had put into his. He stood defensive, square, there would be no moving him without an answer. “And what happened to Dee?” A friend? No one called her that but friends. Or really sarcastic enemies but he doubted that was the case here.

“We were attacked on the way back” he explained, not exactly lying, but not the whole truth. “A chimera, we had wandered into a cave to take shelter from a storm and didn’t know it was its lair.”  That on the other hand was boldface. He hoped his bandaged face and her prone and injured form was enough to give credence to the story. He didn’t give his name, he didn’t plan on doing so.

“Why do you call for Urianger then? And not just find a closer medic?” He was being grilled, and knew if he tried to answer that he’d merely give away his lie. He could claim that the storm was nearby, but general knowledge of the weather would prove it was a lie. He could claim she demanded to be brought here.

“I don’t know!Why don’t you go get mauled by a Chimera and tell me how thinking goes after that? How clear your mind is?!” Caolan growled in response, a nonanswer the only answer in his arsenal he had any hope in. The Hyur, whose name he would eventually learn is Neran, did not get a chance to respond.

Two sets of hurried footsteps snapped the arguing men’s attention back towards the hallway. The Lalafel, whose name he would learn is Tataru, and the Elezen he had been told was Urianger stood, out of breath and startled at the sight they had walked into.

“Give the Lady here” Urianger spoke, taking her prone form from his arms before he even had a chance to respond in protest, or continue pleading his case to the Hyur. “Mistress Tataru, please inform the others they can call off the search. Neran, if you may please lock the front door; I’ve need of concentration for her-” the hooded elezen stopped, turning once more to face Caolan, a critical look hidden behind his goggles.  “Nay, both of their injuries. You ser can still walk, but I ask you follow me either way.”

Oh gods, they’d been searching for her. Oh hells, he’d have to think of something to tell them. How many had they sent out, better yet, how long had she waited to call him in the first place?

But that was earlier, two hours ago in fact. Perhaps two and a half, depending on how long he’d been standing at that mirror, looking into his own reflection and being mesmerized by the change.

They’d brought her further into the building, into a back room, with a bed and some tables and enough medical supplies ferried in it made him more than a bit envious. If only the arcanist was that well stocked when one of the students was injured. Urianger had spent more time and aether than he cared to admit knitting her back together, Caolan wished only that he could help more.

But he was a Summoner, and all he really knew was how to fix himself in a pinch.

And nugget, but nugget was a floating rock friend, so he didn’t really need fixing.

Afterwards, it was his turn to be poked and prodded, and weaved back together. His stitches, however, took far less time. Though he did have the misfortune of being awake for the entire event, which she’d never hear the end of as soon as she awoke. A lie on his part that made him chuckle, Danica, he knew, would need no help remembering her deeds. If anything she would need help forgetting.

Turning from the mirror, Caolan gazed at the sleeping form of his friend. Never before had he seen her look so small, afraid. Danica was loud and brilliant and larger than life. That was just who she was. Not a fragile thing wrapped in bandages and confined to beds. Then again, she wasn’t a primal either, but yet here they were.

The two of them, for Urianger had remained with a book by her side, waited for any sign of life in her still eyes. He must have felt responsible, he’d agreed to send her on her own. Some petty part of Haustefort agreed with him, another part realized that none of them could have seen it coming.

“She beat Odin.” He spoke, without really thinking of the words leaving his mouth. Just the strangeness of the situation at hand.

“Yet she fell to a Chimera.” Urianger responded, his words doubting him more than his expression did.

“She wasn’t just fighting the Chimera.” He spoke again, realizing what he was doing. Trying desperately to calculate if this breach of trust was worth the aid Urianger might supply. Or if the two of them could really go at this alone, when one single misstep could mean the consumption of Danica’s entire being. Soul and all.

“Dare I ask you to speak simply?” Urianger closed his book and crossed his arms, looking up at Caolan through his impassive mask, aided by those ever present goggles and the shade of his hood.

“You can, but with one condition.” Caolan took a deep breath, and slowly raised a finger as if to cement his point to Urianger. In reality, it was to cement his course of action to himself, stay the waves of fear. Urianger gave an affirmative nod, waiting for the sentencing.

“What I say not another living soul learns. It stays in this room, between the three of us.” Though he could not see it, Haustefort could almost feel the widening of Uriangers eyes, as the gravity of the situation sank in. The other elezen stood from his chair, walked in three long paces towards the door, and double checked its locks.  Then triple checked them.

Caolan wasn’t sure if he was satisfied or not when he turned back to face him, but he didn’t have time to think about the smallest of social and physical actions in the grand scheme of his planning. No, he had the now and thats all he had to work with. Now he just needed to figure out where to start.

“She beat Odin” He repeated his words from earlier, slowly, letting them hang in the air heavy with their own mystery. Urianger opened his mouth, as if to chime in that Caolan had already said that, he found words to continue.  “But she did not end him.”

“By defeating him, in fact, she became him.” Urianger could not stop the gasp that left him, or the panicked step forward.

“You cannot speak seriously, Ser. Lady Voss is a primal?” Caolan cursed him, his voice was far too loud. What if someone heard? What would they do then? An irrational fear, he knew all who was in the building yet one he harbored all the same.

“Yes, and no. Maybe?” Caolan shrugged. “I cannot say for certain, I just know she believes she is, and from the...event that stopped us on the road i'm inclined to believe she is right.”

Urianger sat down upon the edge of the bed with a huff that Caolan was almost afraid he’d wake her.

And Tataru was almost afraid she’d been heard.

As she was plastered with her ear to the door, cursing and crying at every declaration from the strange handsome pirate who carried Dee inside. Danica! A Primal! Something had to be done, someone had to know! Someone who could help! Someone like -

“Neran!”

[geirskogull]

Rhalgr Mourns - Chapter 1 - The Dragoon Shadow Box

Another colab with @momomomodi as we thought about the question “What if ser Greystone was not fast enough” which made us very sad and we channeled it into writing to share that sadness. Featuring our warriors of Light, with an alternative take on the vault. 

Archive Link

Rating: M

Word Count: 1k

Warning of course for Major Character Death. 

The light of the spear was brilliant, scalding blue. It burned through the air, crackling aether swarming like a haze of anger. Haurchefant looked, panicked to where Zephirin stood. Danica lept through the air, her spear guiding her path. Aveline watched with horrified eyes as the two sailed. Connected. Crashed. The light was blinding, a cacophony of brilliant aether as light met armour. It happened in the blink of an eye. Within seconds, the Ala Mhigan was pinned to the stone of the Vault, blood seeping from the wound in her chest. Aveline stood, still as a statue, watching as the lifeblood and aether of her dear friend pooled underneath her on the cool stone.

Crumbled, like a paper doll one had decided was not to their liking, and thrown into the fire. Her spear, tumble across the walkway, abandoned, its tip glistening with blood never ment for its blade. The world seemed to stand still as if Hydaelyn herself had stopped spinning at the unexpectedness of the sudden, and brutal, stop. As if surprised, really, that the one who she gifted with foresight, was so easily felled.

What came next was a scream. Ear-splitting and soul-scarring. Gurgled and blocked by blood, pooling in the recesses of her lungs.

Ser Haurchefant found he could not move. Statuelike, frozen at the horror. Only jostled back to conscious movement when shoved to the ground by her fellow dragoon. Estinien ran towards her, throwing his helm and spear to the ground as he reached her. Grasping her to his metal lap, trying hard to free her from the pinning grasp of the aetheric pike.

“What are you waiting for!” He barked, towards Aveline, towards them all. “Help me!”

The Astrologian burst into action, her star globe spinning calmly. Aveline was not calm. A flurry of spells left her lips, cards splayed on the ground. Blood soaked. Frantically, she cast and cast, pulling rapidly from the aether hanging in the air. When that ran dry, she drew from herself. Anything to save Danica. She would not lose anyone else.

She hadn’t stopped screaming. If anything, she had just lost the ability to reach anything beyond a whisper in decibels. Yet she tried, her face was tear-stained, she tried. Her hands shook, frantically reaching towards them. Towards at first all of them, and then -

He found in his legs movement, and soon that hand in his. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words had yet to catch up. Her wide, beautiful, mismatched eyes screamed for safety. Screamed of fears she’d never spoken. Screamed for anyone or anything to stop the pain. For safety, for shelter. Yet his shield could not offer her that now.

She spoke then. Words as her grasp grew weaker, as he clasped his other hand to hers praying to the Fury that his strength would become hers.

“Haurchefant, I’m scared.”

Aveline knelt next to her friend, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. The Astrologian’s breath was heavy. She couldn’t continue like this for much longer, the constant spellcasting was taking its toll. Tears welled in her eyes as hope faded from her heart. Another. She would lose another in this godsforsaken war. Her words caught in her throat. How do you comfort a dying friend who would never again see their home?

You can’t. There are no words in the entire star that could ease that pain.

In the distance, Haurchefant could hear the Archbishop command Zephirin set course for some distant location. He could hear the whirling engines stealing the villains away, winning them the day.

Suddenly, he was aware of how very heavy his shield was upon his arm. And of how unforgivably useless it was. He was aware of the bloody streaks joining her tears, rushing down her face. Of each cough and wheeze and lurch. Like the flickering death of a candle, upon the end of its wick.

She looked so afraid. So alone, even as they surrounded her. Tiny. Even as Aymeric caught up with them. Even as he held her hand in a vice grip, even as Aveline tried again and again to close the bleeding, open, gap in her body. Even as for the first time in his life, he saw true anguish upon the face of the Azure dragoon.

From what little he knew, it must have felt like his soul was shattering. He wondered if it hurt more than seeing Lady Voss die in front of him. For no matter how bright her hope burned, Halone did not bless him with a fools blindness. He was losing her. They all were.

Aveline’s heart broke. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, Dee.” Her voice trembled, “It won’t hurt anymore.”

Her hands shook uncontrollably. She bowed her head, looking gently into the mismatched eyes of her friend. “It’ll be okay, Dee.” She tried to smile, a charade easily seen through but she continued it nonetheless. A hand lay gently on the Dragoon’s shoulder. Sleep.

Danica Voss, last and only child of Maerwynn Voss and Orlaux De Dzemael, stranger far far from any remains of her home, Sellsword, Mage, Friend looked up at Aveline and smiled. As death wrapped his thin arms around her and closed her eyes, dragging her away from the material far across the aether sea. She joined them, in a way. All of the Ala Mhigans before her, memorialized at the Tomb of the Errant Stone. But yet, it didn’t stop the bitterness as her eyes fluttered shut, and the spear disintegrated into rich blinding aether around her.

Silence fell over them all as she slowly grew cold. As thick clouds covered the setting sun, and the threat of a blizzard forced them inside. As Estinien, refusing to allowing any closer, carried her, no her body, into the cathedral. Already aware of what it was like to have no family to mourn you.

This silence was interrupted only by a sudden crack of thunder.

As even then, Rhalgr mourned.

[geirskogull]

Pester - Part 1

On a rare occasion, Warrior of Light Danica Voss, and Azure Dragoon Estinien Wyrmblood are in the same location and the same time and the world *isn't* actively ending.

Now they just have no idea what to do.

May get a Part 2

Archive Link

Rating: M

Count: 1.7 k

“Is there any particular reason you’ve decided to spend your night lounging across the ground Voss?” Estinien asked, peering over his cup towards his prone companion across the table. She, in response, merely flopped over on her back towards him, making a loud hmph noise and frowned. He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise remained unresponsive. Danica was in a mood. One of those particular, very Danica moods. Boredom? Anxiety? Exhaustion? Loneliness? All of that and more rolled up into one unique Voss Mood that on occasion, took her and ran away with her sense.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Voss.” He sighed, shaking his head lightly. He was never sure what to do when she got like this. Not sure if it was something he should be worried about or if it was just a character trait of hers that on occasion decided to annoy them both. Or at least he thought it annoyed her as well, her own words failing her when normally she was rather good at communicating. He frowned, one that greatly exceeded her own in its dourness, and returned to his drink.

He closed his eyes and allowed the burning liquor to force his mind elsewhere. Oblivious to the sound of rustling fabrics and a moving body beyond until it was pressed warm into his side. Wrapped around him like a coat against the biting winds, nonexistent in the small inn room. He felt a sharp nose dig into his shoulder, and another warm hmph muffled by his shirt.

He fought the urge to smirk, and instead, kept his eyes shut and continued with his drink. As if blind to the Ala Mhigan woman plastered to his side. He lowered his cup back to the wood of the table, and then simply sat there, with his eyes closed. If he knew her well, and considering their joint career and storied history he’d like to believe he did, soon she’d start poking his cheek and directly demanding attention.

When she didn’t, he peeked open one of his eyes, only to see the top of her head and her arms wound around him. He furrowed his brow, and rotated himself as best he could so that her restraint, also known as a strong hug, left her head upon his chest and not needling into his shoulder.

“Danica.” He started, growing a bit more exasperated by the moment, leaving her name hanging in the air. Heavy. “What are you doing?” He asked, much more direct than “what's wrong?” and much more likely to get an answer.

She tilted her head back, to look up at him, and gave a weak smile. “I’m pestering you.” She stated, in a voice barely above a whisper. Raising up one of her arms to poke at his cheek, just as he expected.

He fought the urge to laugh, even as his eyes grew soft and his own arms mirrored hers. Apparently, she was just moving slower than he was used to, back to her constant mischievously affection  masked as something it wasn’t.

“You’re embracing me,” He responded, resting his head atop hers. He could feel a light chuckle rumble her. Her words, muffled though they were, responded back quickly and lightly.

“I’ve no idea what your talking about!”

Her laughter ceased not long after. Leaving the two of them in a warm silence that wasn’t unlike how they were minutes prior. Simply closer, both physically and otherwise. She let out a low hmph, as if thinking. Squeezing Estinien just a bit tighter as she racked her brains for an actual proper answer to his question.

“I’m tired...” She started slowly, but a flood of words quickly followed “Tired, more than a bit bored. Want to do something fun but I’m not sure what's actually fun anymore that isn’t just, I don’t know, fighting?” She looked up at Estinien, confusion in her eyes, as well as his.

“And I missed you a bit” More than a bit if she was to be honest. A lot. Endlessly. So much. “So I guess I just want to find something fun that’s also with you thats actually fun and like you know. Be home.” She looked away, suddenly aware of how much and how little she had actually said, only to have her chin caught upon a crooked finger and gently pushed back up.

She was surprised, for a moment, at the overt warmth of his gaze. So use to the impassive grey of his eyes,as stern and cold as Coerthas itself. His normal grimace, replaced with an easy, barely perceivable smile twitching at the edge of his lips. He had gotten his answer.

“I missed you too, Dee.” The words were light as a whisper, but brought a wide smile to her lips anyway. This. This could be fun, just lounging here. Hells it had been before, why not now. She grasped the hand upon her face and pressed into it, the wave of anxious energy receding for the moment, replaced by a rare calm.

Closing her eyes, she enjoyed this warmth. Much truer than any she could force herself to steal, just by plastering herself to his side. It was almost as if here, then, the world knew no dangers. As if she knew no strife. As if Primals and Ascians and Garlemald were just nightmares, no more tangible and dangerous than any other night time fantasies positive or negative.

Soft lips upon her brow stole even those musings. Instead idle thoughts of many mirrored moments replaced them. Embraces here. Kisses there. Lands far away but home all the same due to the presence of each other. A young man in Rak’tika had asked her is she ever missed home; she hadn’t the heart to tell him always. That though their feet wandered in different directions, her soul always screamed for the company of her home.

“We’re quite the pair are we not? You speak of something fun without killing, and all I can think of is hunting.” He chuckled to himself. War had dug its claws into them deep, and had yet to let go. Even if it left, would they be able to survive without it? Or would its wounds bleed out, till nothing remained of them. He sighed, raising his fingers to tangle in her hair, cement himself to the moment and not a grim potentiality.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something eventually.” She smiled, gentle, hopeful. Thankful. By the Fury, her hope was contagious. “After all the nonsense is finished I’m sure we’ll have all the time in the world to figure it out.”

“Doesn’t help us now, alas.” He twirled a black strand tight around his finger. She’d cut it short when she was away. It was new, interesting, and waved just as wildly as she was in a strong wind. Fitting.

“Well then, I’m sure between the two of us we can brainstorm something anything  that we can do.” She leaned back, a mock pout on her face. “I’d like to think we have at least one brain cell bouncing around our collective minds. Like hells what do we normally do when we have time like this?”

She hated to admit that normally, they didn’t. The last time they had actually gotten to sit down with each other and talk, or simply exist in each others space for an extended period of time without work at one of their backs was in the Azim Steppes. Sure, they had run into each other before, short little meetings, but those had always also involved others. And had never been for fun.

“I don’t think be much help,” Estinien added, rubbing his chin in thought. “I’ve got exactly zero hobbies beyond... you know... work.” Danica couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, his honesty was refreshing as always, even if she didn’t really consider their work a hobby. “God what did we do on the steppes.”

“Each other.” Danica added sharply, before laughing much more fully. Remembering quite fondly their time together, hopefully far away from any prying eyes the moment they were able to make sure Orn Khai was fine on his own.

“Don’t suppose that will work here? That would be too easy.”  Estinien joined her, his laughter much less loud than her own but there all the same. Mostly muffled by her own hair, and his face buried in it.

“Listen, if there is to be an end to this nonsense sooner or later, and we actually get some rest we need to figure out something we both enjoy that we can do together. Aka, we need to find a hobby.”  She joked, she wouldn’t lie and say she didn't enjoy sitting with him doing nothing, but she knew her hands would grow restless sooner rather than later.

“Triple Triad” He suggested

“You hate card games” She reminded

“Reading, to each other”

“That’s tempting, but we’ve got no books around us at the moment.” She smiled, adding it to a list of potentials, though quickly amending her statement “That is, unless you wish me to read my latest loan from the Thaumaturges guild.”

“No, I’d rather not have a headache today.”

She chuckled. Perhaps just conversation would do, as the back and forth of ideas continued on. He’d suggest something, she’d give an opinion, and then suggest something right back. They never really did find something to do, but after an hour or so they no longer seemed to mind.

“Mind if I steal some?” She asked, grasping for his cup, then refilled with water.  He nodded no, he didn’t at all, and watched as she adjusted herself atop his lap, his cup in hand, and smiled.

“Hey, Estinien.” She spoke, after a moment in silence. Perhaps reflecting upon her faint reflection in the cup, and the night they had.

“Yes?” He responded, tilting his head like a curious and attentive dog.

“You’re staying here tonight right? And your not leaving tomorrow?” She asked, careful, almost timid eyes looking into his. He had no idea what thoughts swirled thought her mind a lot of the time, but he had an idea at the moment.

“Correct, though I’ll probably move on in a couple of days time.” She gave a strong smile in response.

“Mind if I keep pestering you till then, then?” And with that, he returned it. Pulling close and knocking the empty cup against his chest.

“Not at all Dee.”

[geirskogull]

Steel Reign - Chapter 5 - Sated

Caolan uses some reserved engineered emergency summoning magic to get things under control

Odin has a nice snack

Archive Link

Rating: M

Count: 1.4 K

Miral chirped, curious and mournful, as Caolan lead both he and Teacup to some rocks by the cave mouth. They’d stay here, for now. Away from the danger they saw enter this cave, and the friend they needed to rescue. They were to be a warning bell for the world, if Caolan failed to pacify Odin. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but the shrill cry of chocobos could serve as an effective warning bell. 

He’d watched the half formed primal stumble in there earlier, struggling against themselves, attempting to direct the body they shared two drastically different ways. Staggering, like a drunkard, into the dangerous wild. 

He’d been following them from a distance, trying to figure out how he was going to fix things. Help things. Caolan wished he could say he had come up with an answer. But he’d never been one for lies, at least when it came to his friends. His only hope was cornering an Odin who had found something to hunt, and was busy processing any large amount of Aether and attempting to use the same strategy he used to summon any of his Egi, but instead of tuning it towards their desired element or energy, attempting to attune it to something against his nature. Rest perhaps? What was the opposite of the Dark Divinity? 

He didn’t have time to ponder that question, he could hear the grating of metal upon metal deeper in the cave. Good, he hadn’t lost her. She had grown silent, however, and he’d have been lying if he said that didn’t worry him. He didn't have a single clue what he would do if she was consumed. 

Hells, he didn’t know what he’d tell people if she was consumed.

Deeper in the cave, he heard a shriek. Dropping any pretense that he was attempting to hide, he rushed forward further. Cursing himself that he couldn’t tell if that was man or beast. Praying it was the latter. 

 Zantetsuken’s blade glistened in the faint starlight, slick with the blood of the massive chimera that rested at Odin, at his new vessels feet. Odin held the blade in his hand, almost reverently, admiring it like one would a sculpture. All the while, she swayed. Woosy. 

Hunt... 

The cry in her mind grew less painful, but still remained present. Was the god yet hungry? Had this beast not been enough? Or was she losing herself, loosing this battle against her own body.

Gods, her side ached. No, it burnt like fire was running through her veins. She staggered hard against the rock wall  of the cavern, interrupting Odin from his moonlight reverie. 

“You yet fight.” His words came from her mouth. She hated that. Hated him. She swore she would bow to none if she could help it and yet here she was, being forced to bow.

“I will never cease.”  She screamed, determined, in a mind that was rightfully hers. She could almost feel him smile, behind his black plate half. Perhaps because it was her face, that which still looked like her, that did so. Even as pain wracked her. 

Odin had fought the Chimera unscathed.

She had not. 

 “Good,” Odin spoke. Her voice mingled with his, echoing through the cave. “That will serve you well.” He spoke to her like some errant child, in need of a firm hand to guide her. Her resentment grew tenfold at that realization. Struggling to stand from the wall, she attempted to will the sword away.

“Why do such a thing, we may yet still need it.” Odin corrected, the blade remained fast in his hand. She grimaced, trying yet again, only to meet the same results. He turned her body to face the cave entrance, or at least the cavern that lead there. “Such as the mortal you let flee earlier.”

Caolan swallowed hard, stealing his courage as he cowered behind a distant rock.. Had he actually been that loud, or was Odin just that sort of ultra powerful hunter that even his successful attempts to hide were failures in the eyes of the primal? No matter the answer, he had been spotted, and the moment of truth had arrived.

Now it was time to learn if his plan was going to sink, or if it was going to swim.

Stepping from behind the rock, his grimoire held tight in his hands, he prepared for the worst, even as the best seemed to be naught but a fever dream. 

“Danica.” He started, extending a hand towards the primal. He tried to keep his voice level, some part of him not wanting to show his deep fear in front of Odin. 

Caolan! Danica screamed in her mind. Why hadn’t he ran? She had urged him so, so hard to run. Odin sighed, displeasure coloring their voice.

“She urged you to run. She made me offer you mercy.” If the elezen was to describe Odin’s voice, it would be akin to the sound metal makes when it grinds against metal. Ear splitting. Loud. Echoing. Made his teeth ache to hear at such close a range. 

“I’m afraid I can’t just leave her.” He answered, a glittering attempt at a wry smile dancing upon his sore cheeks.

 Fool. Danica thought. Odin chuckled, even as Caolan opened his tome and focused on the patterns within. Swirling aether into magical shapes of both protection and harm. Titan-egi, better known as Nugget, manifested, standing beside his master with a stern, rocky glow. 

“Then pray tell, what do you intend to do?” Odin asked, Digging the blade of the damned sword into the ground. Leaning upon it. Apparently, her injuries were catching up with him. Caolan did not answer, but smiled, shaping the aether around him with intent that was beyond what Voss knew. What Odin knew. 

Odin sat down, upon the ground next to the Chimeras corpse. Gently kicking its head with his metal foot. Waiting for an answer that would not come, but somehow lacking the strength to stand and demand it at sword point as more and more of the charged aether surrounded him. Perplexed him.  

Genius. Danica continued to think. Even as pain grew sharper along her body, images too grew clearer. Smiles growing in earnest. Desire for blood giving way to the desire to rest.

“Clever boy and his magic tricks...” Odin murmured. Metal head growing heavy. Brilliant bands of purple and blue formed around one half of the kneeling god. Stripping away the black plate and leaving naught but bruised and injured person beneath. 

Clever boy, and his magic tricks... Watching the sword disappear in a burst of aether, Caolan let out a loud cheer. Jumping into the heavens and clapping his feet together. Nugget clapped his big stone hands together in time. 

Grasping Nuggets hands, Caolan began to spin. Near singing “We did it! We did it!” The rocky creature attempting to respond in its own attempt at words. Danica smiled. He had, he had done it. Raising the hand that had once been metal, she smiled. 

And then she collapsed. 

The sudden thump of a body hitting the sad, or well collapsing atop a dead chimera, snapped Caolan from his victorious japery. Eyes snapping with a frightful precision to his friend, freed from her bonds. 

“Fuck” he declared, scrambling across the caverns loose sand to her prone form. “Shit Damn fuck” Nugget floated after, almost worried, but soon found with a wave of  a hand his help would not be needed.

Danica, from the small pile of dust and gore she laid in, began to chuckle, wheeze and cough. That chuckle, quickly turned to tearful cries. As the pain of fighting the chimera, and the realization of her predicament settled in her broken form. How close she came to harming others. How close she came to harming more than just herself. 

“Dee, shit are you ok? Do you need a doctor? I’m not a doctor. I have a scarf. It's in use. Fuck.” Caolans words were a waterfall, it was amazing he managed to maintain any amount of composure before. Or perhaps that was why they came bursting forth now with little beyond the most basic thought attached to them.

He picked her up, gently and with a great deal of effort to not worsen any of the wounds he could see, and any he couldn't. Gods it looked like she took the chimeras ram horns to the gut, or perhaps the dragon maw? He didn’t want to think about specifics.

“Dee?” He whispered, when she did not respond. She gave him a bleary eyed look in return, as much as she could turn her head. 

“I’m scared Caolan.” 

Three words whispered, three final words. Before her world went black and she went limp in his arms.

[geirskogull]

Steel Reign - Chapter 4 - Blood Hunger

On the way to the Waking sands, Danica and Caolan realize they've forgotten to do something very important.

Feed the Primal.

Archive Link

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.4 K

Cold desert night air whipped sand into a small frenzy. Stars, immaculate in their clarity, sparkled overhead. Once upon a time Danica Voss would have found their gentle glimmering a comfort after the long, loud, days in the city of Ul’dah. She feared, like her dreams of being naught but a sellsword turned innkeeper, those tender memories were just that now. Memories.

For now their twinkling eyes bore down upon her with holy judgement she would do anything to hide from. Her hands tightened on the reigns of her chocobo, eyes downcast into Miral’s brilliant plum feathers. Caolan had suggested forgoing teleporting to Horizon, as neither of them could say for certain if her new “Condition” would have any adverse effects in relation to the aether stream such magics entailed. 

His fear was valid, she could just envision that worst case scenario. Disappearing from the Tavern in the Shroud only to appear fully armed and armored, a black clad fiend, in the middle of a town in the desert. The carnage would be gruesome, the likes of which she only saw in her memory. Ala Mhigo. The Empires attack on the Waking Sands. She pressed her eyes closed and tried to will away those memories with lackluster results. 

Miral gave a curious chirp, Caolan swore under his breath about the damned sand, and Odin, for his part, was silent. They traveled like that, uneasy across the night towards an unknown that scared her. 

Caolan, back at the bar, had been correct in the assumption that her mind's eye played for her the worst possible scenarios. Perhaps they would bind her, like the Allagans did Bahamut. Use her as their own weapon. A tired, pessimistic part of her pointed out that it wouldn’t be too much different from how it was now then, a weapon of the star. Or perhaps they would give her the small mercy of just killing her - but then who would pick up the sword. One inevitably did, as Odin had told her. Someone was inevitably curious enough to touch it, and continue the cycle anew. 

Thancred would never forgive her, if it was he. She wouldn’t deserve it. Nor would she forgive herself, if any of her friends fell prey to the weapon. This was her curse now, no one elses. 

Her mind played for her the image of the youngest of those she knew, Alphinaud, grasping the blade and being consumed by its influence. She shuddered, such images broke her heart and twisted her stomach in equal measure, she would not let that even be a possibility.

When asked if she was ok, she merely blamed her shivers on the wind. 

“That breeze bothers you, yet you run around near topless in Coerthas?” Caolan asked, equal parts exasperated and entertained. An attempt on his part to relax his comrade with some level of humorous ribbing. Danica, snapping her head from purple plumage, offered a half hearted smile.

“It was you who taught me the art of glamour, remember?” She replied, remembering fondly sitting in an inn room in the Quicksand with Caolan, Zara, and their new tall Xaela friend Bryce surrounded by tiny pyramids and glamour plates trying to figure out how to do what with them. “Stopped me from running around looking like a tin can.” 

“If anyone would have looked like a tin can it would have been Bryce. You would have run around looking like you just broke out of the leather harness factory and were a rogue sentient bit of leather on the loose.” She chuckled, as obtuse and strange as that comparison was it was uniquely Caolan. The elezen man beamed, a triumph under his belt. 

“How long do you think till we hit Horizon?” He asked, unfamiliar with the terrain. Danica smiled, went to reply, but found words not forthcoming. Frustrated, she blinked a few times, drawing Caolans attention with her silence.

Hunt.

The word blared in her mind, blinding her to all but the perception of that concept. Hunt. Kill. Consume. Prove your worth against all that bleeds and breaths and dies. Distantly, she could hear Caolan calling her name, muffled, like he was underwater. Or perhaps she was, consumed by a wave of -

HUNT

She doubled over upon Miral, falling from the birds saddle to the sand below. A thumb that made her body ache, pain beating in tandem with the repetition of the word, louder and louder. She thinks she screamed, at least she felt like she should.

Caolan jumped from his own mount, an old, dusty brown Chocobo named Teacup, and ran to her side. Grasping frantically at his friends shoulders, checking for some visible injury that ailed her and praying that it wasn’t what he thought. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that that hope was for naught.

She looked up at him from the sand, her normally cheerful mismatched eyes of green and gold and pale hollow white that bore into his soul. His mind screamed at him to get back, to run. His friend was here no longer and all that was to remain would be the shell of a Primal hunting for his own gain.

But he couldn’t do that. 

At least, not and look at himself in the mirror the next day.

So instead, he grasped her shoulders tight, nails digging into the leather of her jacket. “Danica! Danica can you hear me!” He asked, holding her tight against him in some vain hope of stilling whatever particular of Odin had taken hold of her. She struggled, her hands clawing at his coat and scarf, her scream growing louder, echoing across the sands.

It was only when he felt black plated claws dig into his face was he forced to let go, stumbling backwards upon the sand. Blood dripping down his face, splattering like rain upon the earth. 

Odin. Or Danica. Or both. Stood.

One half of themselves covered in the black plate traditionally associated with the Dark Divinity, whose clawed gauntlets dripped with the very same blood that fell from his face. The other half looked at him with one wide, terrified, golden eye. Screaming at him just as loudly as his mind to run. 

And yet, he couldn’t. Paralyzed by fear and worry and more than a bit of shock.

The plated half rose its hand, collecting the hilt of the accursed sword and raising it skyward. Caolan watched in awe as the aetherial black blade manifested. His mouth agape, words far too slow to keep up with his thoughts. 

Taking the blade fast, the metallic half lowered it at him, preparing the strike. To end him. Caolan could do naught but look into the one golden eye not with fear, but with sadness. Worry even. If this was to be his end, he wouldn’t mind, but he wished she naught remember it. That she be consumed by what they were trying to subdue, and not now harm had befallen a friend by some version of her hand.

When the Voss’ free hand reached out and pushed the arm with the sword down. He couldn’t help but smile. She was fighting. She was fighting and that gave him time.

HUNT. PROVE YOUR WORTH.

The words pounded against her skull like hammers upon stone. She struggled to fight against them. There was naught to hunt here! All that surrounded them was sand, chocobos, and each other! Not anything to target! Just people to enjoy the company of! To care for and love as family. Teacup was a testy old bird. Miral a jovial chocobo who Danica was pretty sure thought himself a lapdog! Caolan was one of her oldest, dearest, friends and one she would be so very alone without. 

Yet. She could feel it. His blood dripping down the gauntlet her hand had become. She could feel that same blood smudge across the hilt of the sword. Of the damned thing that started it all. She could feel, almost in her very soul, the blade coalesce into shape. She could feel the very breath of all around her, waiting for the end.

An end they would not receive, never at her hands, so long as she had breath to scream.

And scream she did, with all her might thrown behind her will, she turned and ran off into the dunes. Leaving Caolan, and the birds behind. Hoping whatever she came across next was animal and not person.

“Gods.” Caolan exclaimed, confused, as he wrapped his already red scarf around his bleeding face in an attempt to at least solve one problem. Miral let out a mournful chirp, gently nudging the Elezen, before motioning towards the horizon that held Danica and Odin. Teapot, for his part, found something to snack on. 

Caolan reached for the plum birds beak and gave a few reassuring pets. 

“Hells, what are we going to do with you Dee?”

[geirskogull]

Steel Reign - Chapter 3 - Dial A Summoner

Danica calls up a good friend who probably wont react badly to “oh yeah i might be a primal now”

Archive Link

Rating: M

Count: 2.1 K

Rain. Rain was a regular occurrence in the Shroud. Caolan Haustefort should know that. Caolan Haustefort liked to consider himself a smart man, and things such as the local weather patterns should be within his constant purview of “things he was aware of.” 

But as his floppy wet beret could tell you, he very much was not. 

Danica was lucky, he thought to himself, lucky he was bored enough trying to find a ship to sign on to in Limsa that he'd be willing to drop everything and come to this ass end of the forest to see how she was faring. A lie in two parts on his account, one he told himself in a vain attempt to keep the haughty aloof arcanist act in one piece. He was sure that was exactly the kind of person ships were looking for and Gods above he’d be their man. 

Of course he’d also be the worried mother hen, rushing from one end of Eorzea to the other when one of his comrades muttered even a single worrying word. 

Pushing open the swinging doors of Buscarron Druthers, the rush of warm dry air made him shudder, sending droplets of water all over any who were within spitting distance on the main door. His eyes scanned the crowd for the mop of black hair and slightly pointed ears of the woman whose shaky voiced link pearl call had dragged him there, and when his eyes came up empty his heart began pounding. The mask slipping and worry visually coloring his grey face, somehow losing what little color it did have. His long steps rushed him towards the tavern keeper, a strong looking gent whose name adorned the very place her ran. 

“Need a drink, son? I’m sure I have something here that can warm your drenched bones” Buscarron asked, looking up at the Duskwight with a  sympathetic look in his singular functional eye. Caolan shook his head no, sending another wave of splatters across the bar this time. 

“Not now, though depending on what the person I’m supposed to meet here has to say, perhaps later.” He cracked a nervous smile, letting his eyes wander over the gathered crowds again, absently. Trying to maintain a calm that he was no longer capable of holding.

“Looking for the Dragoon in the corner perhaps?” Buscarron’s words drew caolans eyes and attention back towards him. The ‘keep motioned to a well hidden alcove with the glass he had been cleaning. Eyes following, he did not like what he saw.

Danica sat in the booth, eyes downcast, intent upon the small linkpearl and not at all at either the food or drink placed in front of her. She looked exhausted, almost half dead. “She’s been like that since she wandered in here during the worst of the storm. I had half the mind to offer the poor girl use of the backroom to rest, but something tells me she’d be too proud to accept the offer.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He replied, he shook his head, a heavy sigh following. “Thank you.” He pushed himself off the bar, and with a slight bow of his head towards its keeper he turned towards Dee. His frown never truly leaving his face.

Buscarron’s eyes followed the leggy gent, he must have been whoever she called on that little red pearl earlier. Who she spoke to in rushed, hushed tones, far too low for him to make out anything she actually said to the folks on the other side. All he knew was that she looked scared, and alone, and his honor - and his memory of when she came bouncing through the door on order of the Lancer’s guild - had him flicking his eye back over there every once and awhile. Just make sure she was still upright and breathing. 

“Dee?” Caolans voice was almost a whisper as he approached his friend, and yet she still nearly jumped from her skin when his words hit her ears. She paused just short of her spear, just recognizing him before her hands wrapped around its shaft. Danica Voss was jumpy.

This wasn’t good.

Voss was never jumpy. Ok that was a lie, Caolan chastised himself, her entire preferred form of combat revolved around jumping, but this was a different jumpy. A scary jumpy. A worrying jumpy. A jumpy that had him compressing himself to as small a size as he possibly could, which admittedly, even when he hunched over and scrunched up his shoulders wasn’t very small. 

“Dee...” he let her name hang in the air as he slid into the booth, across from her. Trying to figure out, among his many grand social stratagem, which to employ to talk to a friend about something bothering her. 

“Your food is getting cold.”  Working around the problem before getting it, that would work yes? He thought to himself, gentle nudging the plate towards his friends. Even if it didn’t work, it would make her eat something, hopefully. 

Voss flicked her eyes to the plate, as if noticing it for the first time. She opened her mouth, flicked her eyes towards Buscarron who simply waved, and then shook her head. The way her brows crinkled as she grimaced spoke a sharp spike of pain as she did so. 

“....Not Hungry.” She eventually managed to whisper. “But thank you.”  Her eyes flashed back towards the owner, who hard turned back to his own work for now. She silently cursed herself, how had she not heard him place it down? Odin, or the sword, or perhaps even just her own overactive mind painted her scenarios were such inattention would be fatal.

“Thirsty then?” Caolan asked, tilting his head, and comically letting his dripping beret fall with an audible splat. Danica blinked, startled and confused at the sound, but drawn away from her own mind if even for a second by the sheer strangeness of Haustefort without a hat. When she didn’t respond, he leaned in, his wet hair dripping upon the table. Gods he wished he had thought to bring an umbrella.

“Or perhaps you wish to tell me why you summoned me all the way from Limsa, where if you’d like to know I was very very close to actually signing on with a good crew for a spell, via linkpearl with just the words “We need to talk.” You know, the anxiety words. The no good very bad anxiety words.”  He cracked a small smile, hoping his good natured jab at the heart of the problem would ease some answers out of the half elezen woman.

She swallowed hard, eyes still downcast when she answered. 

“I need help.” Three simple words that did not tell any meat of the matter. He blinked, waiting for more words, fear growing in his heart as the seconds turned closer towards a minute. Slowly, she raised her hands to the table. They were bruised, bandaged things. Unsurprising considering her martial profession.

“Did you really summon me all this way just to heal some minor injuries?” He asked, giving an incredulous. He deeply doubted such a thing would be the case. Hells, he’d known her to forgo medical treatment when she really needed it, if it didn’t seem important at the time via her own special, Danica standards.

Then, he noticed the black metal hilt in her hands. 

His mouth hung open, shock and awe stalling any words from leaving his mouth. He’d never thought he’d live to be in the presence of such a sword, well unless it was swinging down upon him to end his pitiful existence. Yet, here it was in Danica’s hand. 

“You killed Odin?” He whispered, finally. Grasping at her wrist holding the hilt and shoving it back beneath the table. Scanning the bar for eyes turned their way, thankful that his whisper hadn’t actually been a scream. 

“Yes.” She responded her hands shaking, “No.” She said quickly after. Her eyes finally leaving the sword to look into his grey ones. They were red, had she been crying? Or was she just tired. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, leaning further across the table. The wood digging into his gut, he was almost crawling across it. 

“I think it is the Primal.” She whispered, and he felt the his gut twist. “And... and who ever kills Odin becomes him the moment they touch the sword.” 

Becomes the primal. 

The words hit him like an imperial air raid. He dare not ask to confirm if she was saying what he thought she was saying. The look on her face was enough to tell him that any shadow of doubt in her own mind was long gone. He took a deep breath.

“What do you need me to do, Dee?” His voice was serious, thankfully not betraying the fear in his core. His friend, a primal. A primal among those who hunt primals. He was sure she was having those very same worried thoughts rushing through her mind, mayhap even faster. Of those she called friend turning their blade upon her, striking her down. Her name cursed, those close to her executed for fear of being tempered. He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and spoke again.

“Anything you need of me, I will do.”

“I need you to be my friend right now.”

She responded, her voice shaky. Perhaps on the verge of tears. Reaching across the table, caolan grasped the hand that did not hold the cursed blade with both of his. A comforting shield, even if only in theory and less in practice.

Hells, the Arcanist Guild never prepared him for something like this.

“I’m...” She spoke, looking back towards the swirling wood grain of the table. “I’m telling you because your the only person my mind gave me that wouldn’t...” She couldn’t even bring herself to finish the sentence. He wondered how long she sat agonizing over those names before ringing him up. He was glad she did.

“I need you to help me understand this, help me figure out what exactly is going on. You know stuff about primals, about summoning! And your my friend and...” She shook her head, grimacing. If Odin was in there, was he talking to her? Was he making this easy, making this hard?

“I can do that, I’ll head back to Limsa and start spending my days scouring for everything I can get on the topic. And I’ll get us a linkpearl for just us. And I’ll... Have you told anyone else?” He asked, concern in his voice. “Who sent you out here anyway? Last I heard you were too busy punching people in Ul’dah for sport.”

Danica snorted, and Caolan smiled. Progress in this strange predicament they found themselves, that he had been dragged into. 

“Urianger, we Scions were called on to try to put a permanent end to Odin. We thought we had a plan by fighting him in Urth’s font but...” She shook her head, giving a bitter chuckle. “Look how that turned out.”

“Urianger, that’s the guy with the hood right?” he asked, trying to remember everything he could about Danica’s fellow scions. He remembered little, mostly tidbits about the ones Zara and Bryce were also familiar with. There was Neran, the Paladin, then Aveline the Astrologian, and Y’sthola - he’d seen her around Limsa and... 

He cursed his memory for not giving him more. 

Danica gave an affirming nod. “The others were out dealing with other big problems, so it fell to me and now...”

“Do you trust Urianger as well?” Caolan asked, not allowing Danica to continue deep into the swirling abyss of fear that stood before her. She looked up and nodded. 

“He’s done nothing to earn my distrust,”

“Then I think we should tell him as well.” Caolan announced, Danica merely shrugged. 

Though her voice showed much more fear than her nonchalant movement did. 

“I’d prefer to let as few people know about this condition as possible.” She whispered. Eyes darting around the room. None had eyes on her, but it didn’t stop her from worrying ears may be. 

“Alright, don’t, but at least report in so they don’t come calling.” He amended his statement, and she sighed. He was right, so very right. If she didn’t report in people would come calling. When people come calling, they ask questions. And when people ask questions, they inevitably get answers. She swallowed hard and nodded.

“Come with me?” 

She asked, though it was more of a plea. He sighed, shaking his wet head with a look of mock insult upon his face.

“Yet you request more! Ugh, fine.” He couldn’t stop a smile from creeping upon his face, or laughter from breaking his words

“But let’s at least wait till the rain stops,”

“Pray then we will return to the waking sands?”

[geirskogull]

Steel Reign - Chapter 2 - Deal or No Deal

it’s time to get metaphysical with Odin and Danica as Dee strives frantically to not get consumed by the Elder Primals sword and turn into him.

Archive Link

Rating: M

Count: 1.0 k

What came next, was void. A black empty void of nothing save her own consciousness aware that it was there. Perhaps, once upon a time, this would have scared her. Before Hydaelyn beckoned her forth, bestowed upon her titles she had no desire to wield. “Bringer of Light” “Warrior of Light” “Scion” “Hero”

 Those times had long since passed, and would never return again. So her mind sat in this void, aware, and mostly just bothered that she didn’t know why. Was she dead? Had the sword thrown one final blow for its errant former master and taken her with the Elder primal? Or was she dying, bleeding out unceremoniously upon the forest floor. Her injuries actually much more severe than she had initially realized in her victorious euphoria. Or was it something else, something she didn’t have a name for.

“I do not know.”

Words, echoing in the blackness. The first sign that she was not alone. She traced her eyes across the expanse before, behind, and all around her. At first she saw nothing, unsurprising considering how well the black plate of the fallen primal blended in with wherever they found themselves. 

“What?” She found herself asking, surprised when the words sounded through the void, and not just her own head. 

“Your question.” He spoke, grimness, acceptance in his tone. “I do not know the answer to it.” Who he was. Who believed in him. A primal without purpose. Shouldn’t he had disappeared then? Unless, she wondered, raising a finger to her chin in thought. Unless the very fear of the people of the twelves woods are what caused him to maintain form. Their own terrified and terrifying cryptid.

“Tis’ not that” He spoke again, either reading her mind or perhaps - “Yes we are in your mind. Though it shan't be yours for much longer.” She blinked, startled once more.

“Speak plainly,” She demanded, her fear breeding anger and confusion, and it seeping into her minds voice. “What do you mean?” She stepped forward, and found the void of her mind provided solid ground. 

“You did not know?” He asked, almost a whisper. Sorrow and sympathy in equal measure bleeding into his own voice. “Of course not, you never do...”

Danica grew more enraged, balling her fists and stepping closer to the primal. “Know what!” She exclaimed, now chest to chest with him. So much smaller in this mindscape. 

“Whoever slays Odin, Becomes Odin.”

The words echoed heavy in her heart and in her mind. She understood now the fear of the forest animals, it wasn’t one based upon the innate chain of predator and prey but based on the fear of loss of self. Loss of what makes a person, themselves. Her minds eye flashed visions of Estinien, that one time upon the cliffs not far from the cave where they first met. Of when Nidhogg held him in his grasp, tugging at his rage as they fought. She feared. She truly, and utterly feared.

“No!” She exclaimed. She would be! Herself. Danica. As long as she could. Odin frowned, it was always the same. They struggled, struggled against the coming wave that would strip them of all save the will of his sword. Why was it always the strong who defeated him? Who could live such better lives.

“There has to be another way.” Her words snapped the primal from what little memories he had. The determined frown on her face was refreshing. “Some other way for you to be or end or, I don’t know...Be?”

“I’m afraid I’ve little say in the matter.” He responded, thinking back to the sword that had brought them both here. “Your fate was sealed the moment you touched Zantetsuken.”

“Is it the primal?” She asked, confused yet still.

“I do not know. 

“What do you know?” She began pacing, struggling against the tide already eating at her mind.

“I know the sword is magic. I know those who slay me become me. I know that I wander this region of the woods for a reason, even if I don’t remember it.” He raised his black plated fingers and began counting off. “And most importantly, Mortal, I know that I hunt.”

She stopped, spinning on her heel to face him with a look of utter joy upon her face. “That’s it! You hunt!” Odin, for his part, had no idea what she was on about. The primal crossed his arms and waited for further explanation, as scholarly types were all so often fond of giving. 

“We can hunt together!” Or perhaps it didn’t need an in depth explanation. Odin tilted his helmed head, curious. As if asking her to continue. “I hunt great powerful things, though admittedly no choice of my own but it happens all the same.”

She willed the image of the Ultima Weapon, the Primals, hells even some particularly nasty bandits into the void space around them. “We can hunt them together, and maybe we can figure out who you are along the way. Considering if you’ve wandered around here for centuries and don’t know maybe the answer isn’t here?” 

He looked on these fearsome foes felled by his slayer and her friends and felt a modicum of pride. She’d make an excellent odin, if her suggestion was adverse to the sword, but he couldn’t stop himself from hoping that it would be. That he’d be able to travel and see and try to remember why this place is important. Why he stalked there in particular. 

“What makes you think you can stop the sword from just swallowing you?” He asked, not daring to let the hope color his voice. 

“Well. I’m.. I can’t be tempered. At least that’s what the echo is supposed to do? I think.” Her words were a waterfall of uncertainty, even as her actions and movements were sure. Extending her hand to the errant primal.  “Would you like to at least give it a try?” 

He said nothing, but reached out to take her hand. 

And as black plate glove touched fingerless leather her eyes snapped open to a crack of thunder illuminating the forest floor. 

[geirskogull]

Important - Chapter 2 - Found

Chapter 2 of @momomomodi and I’s colab fic <3 Ft. two Drunken WoLs attempting to walk home

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Words: 2.1 K

Rating: Mature

The Quicksands doors clattered open early in the morning. Though by that time, the bar itself was almost sleepy, the two women stumbling out of its doors were very much less so. At least, one of them was. A drunken dragoon, leaning upon her spear like a lifeline, smiled madly at the elezen across from her. All thoughts of brutal deaths and deep sadness forgotten in favor of mischief in a slow moving inebriated mind. One that could barely stand, let alone jump, in her current state. 

To quote Y’sthola once; she was a borderline functional alcoholic.

“Are you suurreee we need to go home?” The Dragoon whined, like an imputent child. “It’s not THAT late.” She lied, leaning wildly, dangerously, nearly the fountain at the entrance.

The drunken Astrologian grinned at Danica, “Probably. We don’t want to get in trouble with the Brass Blades.” She laughed loudly. While Danica became mischievous, Aveline became… uninhibited. The normally quiet, sad Elezen became a confident woman willing to push people’s buttons with no care for consequence. 

“I think… we should go find Papashan.” She giggled, “He’s gotta be a good drinking partner!” She wobbled slightly as she grabbed Danica’s arm, leading her down the streets of Ul’dah.

“But he’s a ya know...” The Dragoons voice dropped to a faux whisper, more a yell. “A cop” She laughed, properly the Lalafel was a member of the Sultansworn. Less cop and more secret service, but many a childhood running into the security of Ul’dah even had a drunken Dee on edge. But yet, she did not resist her friends pull towards the Gates of Thal. 

“He’s also a station master though, I guess.” She murmured to herself, after a moment's thought. “And I like trains...” 

The Brass Blades stationed outside of the Gates paid the two of them passing mind. Looking at them for a second, registering they were drunkards, gauged they were harm to none, and returned to their nightly dealings. Murmuring to strange shadowy figures and “Keeping the peace.” 

Honestly, looking back, Danica would say they were lucky not to be stopped and taxed for some imaginary fee that only Drunken Elezen and Half Elezen needed to pay. As was the norm for the city of coin. But their temporary luck was not to hold for the morn. 

As the two stumbled towards the tracks, a small band of bandits strode towards them. A cruel laugh stopped the two drunkards in their tracks. Weapons slid free of their sheathes. “Well, what do we have here?” Danica reached for her spear. Aveline took a step towards them, star globe floating above her hand. “Two women having a shitty day.” She narrowed her eyes at the bandits, wobbling slightly as she spoke. The bandits laughed.

They laughed, for they did not yet know that they were fools. Dumb enough to stoll up to two armed women, who happened to also be Warriors of Light, drunk or no. Yet, they pressed on. Slowly surrounding the women, about fourteen of them in total, shadowy, near invisible, in the moonless night. 

The mischief from Voss’ eyes dissipated. Her grip on her spear, true. Though her eyes could not focus, she did not doubt she could still hit her mark. She was Danica Voss, Dragoon. She was Danica Voss, not about to get robbed right outside of the city she lived in. 

Their leader, a leggy gentlemen with an axe that looked like it weighed more than he, Aveline, and Danica put together, spoke again. “Fortunate we ran across them, am I right fellas?” His lackies, the shadowy men with swords and daggers, too blurry to make out any features, laughed and agreed. 

Their jeering continued, even as the not so gentlemanly gentlemen strode towards the two adventurers, who stood now but back to back. “What? Nothing to say ladies?” 

A twitch at Danica’s lip was all he saw before she lunged forward. Words slurred from her lips but declared proudly all the same.

“Taste my Lance”

Oh by the twelve she was quoting Estinien. And so the fight began. The bandits rushed towards the Warriors, weapons raised, anger burning in their eyes. The two women began fighting back with drunken earnest. They met the bandits blow for blow, metal clanging harshly. Aveline began to tire first, not adept in hand to hand combat. Stinging steel cut through the fabric of her shirt, grazing the Astrologian’s arm, blood welling in the wound. The Elezen’s eyes widened slightly, the blood soaking into her shirt turning the fabric a deep red. 

Voss, always the eagled eyed hunter, noticed as well. Hands tightening to a white knuckled grip on her spear. A scream of anger welling in her throat. That was until something caught her, and the bandit’s eye. A streaking splat of black and red, crystalized rage and hatred, beaming their leader right in the head.

It’s origin, a black masked knight of some kind, almost a shadow in the early morning. A greatsword drawn in his hands, a sternness in his stance. She’d read his face, but his helm was featureless. 

“Leave them.” She thought she heard him say, his voice muffled by his mask. Distracting the bandits enough that she could rush to her friends side. Ripping cotton from her shirt sleeve to offer the Astrologian.

Aveline offered her friend a pained smile, quickly shaking her head. The Astrologian gently placed her hand over the bleeding wound. Benefic. The healer’s hand glowed softly, the wounded skin knitting itself back together. 

As soon as the brief reprieve of the Knight’s arrival had began, it had ended. The bandits, torn between attacking the Warriors or the armour clad Knight. The Knight struck down the bandits with ease, the swinging of his greatsword causing blood to rain down upon the sand. His body moved with ease, striking down the bandits that dared not approach him with not so much as a second glance. 

Aveline looked anxiously at Danica, nervously grabbing her friend’s wrist. “I don’t trust this.”

“You don’t trust much.” Danica drunkenly attempted to reassure. The Half Elezen was use to bloodshed, use to death, this man wasn’t too much different than they were in battle. At least her drunken eyes told her. 

The remaining bandits turned tail not soon after their leader fell, those who managed to get out of the knights range continued running. A Dark Knight, yes, she remembered Fray speaking about others of their kind. Brutal. Effective. Justice at their core. This had to be one of them. 

Standing from her knee, Voss looked at the man more thoughoutly. She may not have been able to see his face, but from the ear molds on the helm he was an elezen. A tall one at that. She offered Aveline a hand before leaning upon her spear and speaking.

“Do you make a habit of saving every stranger on the road Ser Knight? Or is it just us ladies who get the special treatment?” She asked, sarcasm bleeding into her voice. Some point of wounded pride welling in her words, she should have been able to handle that. She was a warrior of light after all.

The man, for his part, sheathed his sword. Approaching them with a gentle step and open palm. “Are you injured?” More words muffled by his mask. 

Aveline stood, taking the hand Danica offered to her. “No.” She spoke cautiously, liquor infecting her voice. “Answer her question.” Her star globe floated carefully above her hand. “What are you doing here?”

The reply she got was muffled, dark steel muting his words slightly. “You needed help.” Aveline looked around at the bodies scattered around them, blood oozing into the sands. “Help? They were trying to run from you. You killed them!” Her voice grew higher in pitch ever so slightly. The Astrologian had no fear of blood or the dead, though she disliked being so close to the loss of life. Their aether joining Hydaelyn’s, twisting and turning, merging into one. The feeling disturbed her. The blood of the bandits was splattered all over the trio. She shook her head, turning to Danica, “I won’t trust him until we see his face. It’s too convenient.”

Danica relaxed, it was one of their key differences, if she had to think about it. The comfort the two had in the exact presence of death. “He’s right, we did need help. And if they didn’t die here I’m sure they would have preyed upon someone else. And last time I checked, none of us here are free from the particular sin of murder” 

They would have hit others, she was sure of it. And in some way, the knowledge that they wouldn’t because they now held court among Nald’thals judges relaxed her.

She’d seen their type before. Ran from them. Images of a young girl hiding with two others in the corners of Ul’dah flashed in her mind, she willed the image away. No time or energy to get consumed by the past. All that mattered was the now.

 “And we’re being overtly hostile to the gent who just saved our asses. Should we really be making demands?”  Voss hobbled over to a rock, and took a seat, but not before flashing her “Hero with a publicist” smile - to quote Tataru. 

“But, Ace, you do have one thing right. It’s easier to give thanks to someone when you know their name - or face.”  She raised a hand, and finger gunned in the general direction of the Dark Knight, who seemed to laugh. 

“I’m sorry if I startled you but, do you... I’m a...” He stumbled over his words. Voss could not stifle her drunken laugh. “But I’m.... You were!!!” Ah it only grew worse, she could imagine what ever Elezen face behind that mask just bright red in embarrassment. 

She could hear him inhale. Her senses forced to clear, through no will of her own. 

“I’m a Dark Knight. My name is Fuller. I wander and I help people.” He spoke, a Mantra. “People other people won’t help. Those people did you see them? Earlier, before. When you were at the gate, I was leaving too. I saw the Brass Blades point you lot out to them.” 

Voss nodded, a believable story, if ever there was one. Not unlike what befell the one poor man who tried to open a mining business for the Ala Mhigan Refuges, free of the yoke of the syndicate.  Danica looked to Aveline, and motions towards the man, as if to say he past her muster. 

The Astrologian took a deep breath, trying to clear her senses of the metallic smell of blood. She sat next to Danica, pulling her knees to her chest. Feeling the aether drain from people was never an enjoyable experience; Baelsar’s Wall had nearly broken her. 

She looked at the Knight carefully, “Fuller…” She smiled, though it looked as though she was trying not to grimace, “My apologies for my hostility. I… do not do well with death.” 

The Dark Knight planted the tip of his greatsword in the sand, moving towards them. With a smooth movement, he slipped into a low bow, “I am only glad I could help.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice. Aveline glanced at Danica. Was it time to move on? What would be the proper thing to do? All of Aveline’s training for navigating the nobility of Ishgard was failing her. What were they to do now?

Voss stood, eyes still a little wobbly. “So, city of coin and all would have us offer you a reward. But you can already tell we’re not at our peak condition. Why not walk us back into the Quicksand and we’ll repay you tomorrow when we can think clearly?”  She must have wobbled more than she intended, as she felt his arm upon her shoulder, righting her. 

“It would be an honor, Madams.” He bowed again, once he was sure she wouldn’t be falling sideways anytime soon. “But please, you’d need not repay me its-”

“Only your oath and way, you’re not our first rodeo with a Dark Knight stranger.” She laughed, remembering the others. Remembering themselves. She offered a hand to Aveline, and looked back towards the city. Momodi would kick their ass for putting themselves in danger like this, that is to say foolishly. But she would be glad to have them back safe. 

“What say you then, Ace? Maybe we could help him a bit or something tomorrow, fair pay yeah?” She asked, her words starting to run together again.

The Astrologian nodded silently, gathering up her things and taking Danica’s hand again. Her expression was pained. Someone wasn’t dead. One of the bandits twitched slightly, moaning on the ground. Aveline screwed her eyes shut. She could practically see the aether leaving his body, seeping into the earth. It was beautiful and horrifying, a sight she could never get used to. The Warrior turned back towards the city of Ul’dah, trying to leave the dying bandit behind her. After a long moment, she turned back and knelt next to the bleeding bandit. Gently taking his hand, she murmured softly. Repose. The bandit’s eyes slowly slipped shut. While the sight of his life leaving his body was no less horrifying, at least he was at peace.

[geirskogull]

Steel Reign - Chapter 1: Urth’s Font

tldr gonna be a short series based around Danica and Odin since Urths Font ate five hours of my life once and This is how im getting back at it

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Rating: M

Count: 1.7 k

Leaves crunched under heavy, almost metallic, hooves. A sentry, high among the branches, snaps to attention, her white knuckled grip upon her spear tightening. Eyes narrowed, was this just another deer, wandering into the Font? Or some vain adventure not unlike herself seeking death and glory in equal measure? Or was this her target, her quarry, her hunt?

She held her breath, scanning the forest floor. Thinking back to the warm, dry rooms of the waking sand and the events that lead here this deep in the forest, alone save for the occasional squirrel climbing among the branches, curious what exactly the person shaped statue was doing in the trees.

“Pray, Lady Voss, art thee truly sure thee wish to go alone?” Urianger had asked her, not long after the two of them had finished parsing Lieutenant Scarlet’s urgent letter. Detailing the resurcents of the “Dark Divinity” Odin. The Primal so shrouded in myth, it was only fitting that he chose the Black Shroud as his hunting ground.

“What choice do we have?”  She had asked back. “The others are busy with equally as important business, and It’s not like I don’t know how to call for backup.”  Her voice had been sure, when in truth she had been far from the picture of confidence. Primals were group endeavors. Always the lot of them on the field together, not unlike the Company of Heroes. Or what was the group she’d been learning about recently? The Zodiac Braves? The Danica Voss of the present shook the thought from her head and focused back upon the sounds of the shroud.

It mattered not how she came to this situation, only that she was in it. Nestled among the trees, stalking the woods for sightings of the Dark Divinity with full intent to engage and hopefully dispatch him. At least temporarily.

In all honesty, she had very little faith O-App-Pesi’s plan to rid the woods of him forever was going to work. Especially with how little they knew about him. They knew not his origin. They knew not how he got his powers. They knew not who believed in him (though she had a theory on that one.) How were they sure that by killing him here that he’d stay dead? What made this place so special.

If the Padjal hadn’t been so adamant she immediately set out on her hunt, she’d have demanded she be given time to double check his research. She would have laughed, in another situation, even long after she had left the thaumaturges guild, it still had its claws in her in someway.

The forest was silent.

Dead silent.

She could hear herself breath if she focused hard enough. A smirk played at the edge of her lips, fools confidence. The time for waiting was over. The time for action was now.

Entering the clearing, she could see him. Armored from head to toe, atop a fiendish looking steed clad in the same black metal. The Master of the Hunt, perhaps about to be hunted. She watched him for a spell, barely breathing, committing every single movement - even those as simple as a roll of the primals neck - to memory. She found, over time, those same questions peaking into her minds eye, not as distractions, but as useful leads. How could she fight an enemy she did not truly know.

The Horsemen lead his beast towards the center of the clearing, and seemed to stall. Sheathing his sword unexpectedly and merely tilting his helm up in the rain. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was just a wandering knight of parts unknown, pausing to let the rain ease the stiffness in his old bones.

But he was a primal. An Unknown, perhaps even unknowable primal.

She, spear in hand, jumped from her perch in the trees to the wet grass of the clearing.

She would find out which it was. Knowable. Unknowable. God. Man.

Odin slowly looked down from the sky, following her path from the trees with obscured eyes. When she did not charge forward, he turned his horse to face her. Sleipnir she believed he was called, closer up he looked almost more voidsent than horse. Fiery red eyes, hair more akin to large feathers than a proper mane. She tore her eyes from the beast back to its rider, whose hand rested patiently upon his sword.

“Doth thou think yourself a worthy foe? Mortal before me.”

His voice echoed in the woods, the only sound for miles if she had to guess. His very presence breeding dread into the forest animals. She could feel that primal urge to flee into the night while she still potentially had a chance. Yet she stood firm. Yet she answered.

“I can’t speak for my “worth”” she started, her voice not betraying her shaken core. . “But I can speak for my curiosity. And if such a thing leads us to clash, so be it then ey?” She removed her spear tip from the ground, and began pacing around the primal. Far enough away she could retreat into the cloud tops if he advanced, close enough that she could watch him like a hungry animal.

If Odin could have, he would have smiled. Worthy prey indeed.

“Speak then, what is your query. Tis’ best to die without questions.” He kept his hand firm on the hilt of his blade. Helm tracking her movement, Sleipnir baying impatient. Part of her was disappointed that it need come to blows, another was surprised she saw any other outcome. She stopped her pacing, holding the primal at spear point.

“Who are you?”

The question rang out into the empty air, and the world itself seemed to come to a standstill. For the first time in their entire encounter thus far, Odin looked away. Odin faltered. With a smile on her face, she did not wait for his answer. Sailing through the skies with dragonfire in her veins, A hunter versus a hunter.

“Every Primal has a Story.” She spoke once more, diving backwards when his shield repelled her initial blow. Landing on her feet initially, she rolled to the side to avoid his mounts angry hooves.

“An Origin” Her strike rang true off the armor of the primal, a burst of aether signified. Yet one blow would not be enough. The primal drew his sword.

“Someone who believes.” She could not roll away, jump away, from his next series of blows. Thrown backwards by the force of Zantetsuken’s blows, all she could do was struggle to recover her footing. The blood trickling down her arm a sign of his own victory.

She stumbled back to her feet, taking a more defensive stance as the primal once again took note of her. The sword, she realized now, was beautiful. A massive curved blade of black metal that seemed almost to glow in the dark shroud.

“So tell me,” She began, as Odin advanced forward, fast. Realistically, he had the advantage on speed, but she had it on height. Jumping towards the edge of the clearing every time he grew close.

“Who are you, who believes in you?”

Those final words muttered, Odin once again faltered. His grip upon his blade less sure, less controlled. Yet, that made him no less Dangerous. What replaced the knights confidence was a feral rage as the Primal screamed at her.

Screamed at her and charged.

And thus, the fight began in earnest.

But thankfully, she was not upon her back foot. Charging as he did, Voss dodged the fell blade with precision and skill, looking for any gap in the black plate that might prove fatal. Rips? No the chest plate was solid. Knees? No the joints were welded with a masters hand. Helm? She couldn’t see his face beyond his...

Eyes, she’d aim for his eyes.

Jumping back, she landed hard upon the ground. The blood pooling at her feet proof of her mortality, proof of her humanity. Proof of where the primals blade had hit its mark. Her breath was coming heavy, apparently, in her search for weaknesses, she hadn’t realized the extent of her damage.

She would not stop now, not with an end so well in sight.

One for either of them. Perhaps even both of them.

The Primal raised his sword, high into the sky. Where it sparkled and gleamed with unholy intent. The Dragoons spear was held much the same, save her eyes were closed. The lights however, that congealed around both were different, antagonistic. Where one was a swirl of black and purple light, choking at her even then, the other was a brilliant blue. Taking the form of a Dragons head, as she leapt high into the sky. Hoping to find her mark.

Praying to find her mark.

When she once more opened her eyes, she was alone in the clearing, and her spear dug heavily into the ground as  a cloud of aether quickly dissipated into the cool night air around her. Victorious.

Dropping the weapon, she let out a mighty cry, and it was as if all the forest cheered with her. Alive once more. Oh they would never believe this. She couldn’t wait to tell them all. The Scions. Haurchefant. Hells, maybe she’d even track down Estinien’s grumpy ass and tell him too.

She fell upon her butt, laying back upon the ground, and let out a content giggle. Gazing through the leaves to the quickly clearing night sky. At least until she heard the wet clatter of another blade than her own hitting the ground.

Jumping defensively, half expecting the primal to be lying in wait with some kind of fell trap, she was greeted by the sight of his blade. Strange, she thought, should have gone away with him.

Then again, most of the primals she’d faced before then hadn’t used weapons. Claws, fists, talons, but no weapons. Perhaps those stayed? Relaxing her pose, she remained curious. Strapping her spear to her back she approached the fallen sword, so much smaller now that the primal that held it was dead.

Should bring this in for study, her tired mind urged her, Urianger would probably have a field day. It glowed still, brighter now under the night sky. It was so beautiful. Waiting for its owner to return.

If only she hadn’t reached out, and taken it.