#>drabble

[lostpride-blog1]

@cyluos / @kings-mechanic

After all they'd been through together, after getting to Kings, after finally being safe, after getting ready to start a family once their whelps arrived... everything went wrong.

Nax didn't make it through the labor.

Now, Nevris stared down at the three children that slept in a nest before him. Alive after a rough start, even if their birth father was not. He wanted to feel joy when he set his eyes on them, but there was so much grief. So much anger.

He'd been angry a lot the last few days, which seemed like the longest days of his entire life. Angry at the medics who let Nax die, despite knowing they did everything they could. Angry at the House, who grieved as well, but continued on even so. Angry even at the children, who they'd been so happy for, but who had come too fast and sudden and been the death of his mate.

There was so much bitterness in his chest, and he didn't want it, but it had settled in all the same. Nothing felt like it was ever going to be okay again. He'd settled into Kings in his own way, but only because Nax was here. Now, he was more of a stranger than ever. The golden banners he wore felt wrong. The others, even the ones who had come to accept him, looked at Nevris with pity and caution as he walked the halls. 

He didn't blame them, though. His face probably echoed how he felt. They could probably tell.

Nevris could practically hear Nax's voice, the disappointment his mate would have for him if he knew his feelings now. That he could barely even look at their children without blaming them. Nax would want him to take care of the whelps all the same. He would want him to keep going.

But he couldn't do that. Nevris didn't think he could do anything, anymore. No more patrols. No more pretending he belonged anywhere. No pretending that he was happy here, or anywhere, ever again.

He moved, then, pushing away from the nest and heading to the room that he'd shared with Nax. He would gather his stuff. He would leave tonight, and go nowhere in particular. He wasn't even sure he would even survive, but he knew that he couldn't stay in Kings without Nax.

The whelps would be raised well. Nax had a friend in the strange human Kell, and many others. They would be fine -- better even -- without him.

But Nevris would never be the same again. He was pretty sure he would never be fine.

He started to realize why Kiltriks was always so damn angry.

[scarsbyfate-blog]

Kinsis sits on the top of the ketch, looking out over the scenery before him; a lush forest, trees tipped with snow and reflecting the oranges and pinks of the sunset.

It was beautiful here, but they would probably have to move again soon. Sevoriks had been so paranoid, the Kell ordering their location to move way more often than it had before. But after that attack, Kinsis couldn't blame him. After the loses they'd suffered. After the pain they'd endured.

The eliksni breathed in deeply, taking in a long breath of ether-filled air through his sharp-toothed mouth. There were no signs of any lightbearers here, but that didn't mean they wouldn't come. The Guardians scattered around this planet like a plague, searching every nook and cranny for a taste of eliksni blood. The forever-aching scars on Kinsis' body proved that. Even those who don't wish lightbearers harm are targets.

Kinsis is too young to know firsthand how things Used To Be, but the stories and songs tell of the time before this solar system. When the eliksni had their own stars, when they had their own homes, their own paradise.

Now, they fought every day to even survive as a species on some chunks of rock that the Guadians of the Great Machine considered theirs.

But why was Earth theirs? Why were any of these planets theirs?

Kinsis knew no home besides Earth. His children, born onto this planet as well. What made this planet belong to the lightbearers any more than it belonged to Kinsis' family?

He could not make excuses for some of his species' actions. But the lightbearers were no better as a group.

The Guardians, who slaughtered Kells, who attacked with fire and darkness and lightning, who gave the eliksni every reason to hate them back and want to destroy them.  The Guardians, who sarcastically named them Fallen, when they were light-filled shells of war, risen from the dead.

His chest twisted with a strange sense of spite as he thought. The Guardians who attacked his family for existing, and took one of his sons away when Scars wanted nothing but to survive.

They would probably come again, despite their attempts at hiding. He dreamed about it. Dreamed about the Guardian's hellfire taking the rest of his family away.

Kinsis breathes out, shakily, trying to calm down.

It just doesn’t feel like there was any hope that things would ever get better for their kind.

[ghostfragmentsss]

[ slight static can be heard, before Ricochet’s voice fades in ]

“Okay, okay. Are you recording?”

[ affirmative clicking ]

“Good. Okay.” Ricochet pauses to breathe audibly then, a huff in and out. “Hey, Peanut—shit! I already messed it up.”

[ a pause before he sighs, and he starts again ]

“Okay, second time. Hey, Blaise. Uh. I know that you probably don’t want to hear from me and I really don’t know why I’m even messaging you this. But. But… uh. Shit, I’m messing it up again. Shit. Hold on Baby, give me a second.”

[ the line is quiet static, the recording not ending. there is some slight noises in the background before Ricochet’s voice returns ]

“Okay. Third time’s a charm, right?”

[ Baby whirls and beeps confidently]

“Hey, Blaise.” Ricochet pauses just barely, before he continues on. “I know I’m probably the last person you expect to hear from, but, uh. I just wanted to send you a message. I hope that’s okay.”

There is a longer pause, but this time, Ricochet doesn’t backtrack.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot. And, uh. I just wanted to tell you. I hope that things get better for you. I’m sure you’re probably really mad at me. And I don’t even know if you’re going to listen to this or accept it when I send it. In fact, I’d be surprised if you did and –“ A small grunt. “Anyway. That’s not important. Sorry.”

Another small sigh, before his tone gets a bit quieter. He sounds like he’s closer to the Ghost now that’s recording the messages. “Hey. I really cared for you, okay? You said some things when you were mad and… I feel like maybe I need to let you know. I did care about you, Pe—Blaise. I really did. And. I wish things could have worked out. I really hope that you find someone who can be everything you wanted from me. And, I –“ There’s just the smallest hint of his voice cracking in that moment. “I know you probably hate me now, but I hope that maybe one day you won’t. I hope that maybe one day… we can… talk, and… “

[ Ricochet’s voice trails off completely at that point, and after a moment, there’s a gentle comforting trill coming from Baby ]

“Shit. Baby, just. Keep that transmission. But. I can’t send it to him.”

[ more quiet electronic noises can be heard ]

“I still love him, Baby. I still do.” A quiet, sarcastic laugh. “Am I sad or what?”

[ she tries to reassure him otherwise, but he just laughs again ]

“End the recording. This was a bad idea. He probably doesn’t want to hear what I have to say, anyway.”

[ after a small moment, the transmission ends completely ]