did a year of the otp prompt, mission fic, with misha and abbot. just a short little thing for fun <3
Purple and blue flames lick at the silver wood, piled up in the center of the camp. Abbot sits down across from Misha, frowning. “Sitting up for first watch isn’t like you.”
Misha flashes him a lazy, tired sort of smile. “Yeah? You know what I’m like all of a sudden? That mean you’ve been watching me, Abbot?”
He has, but that’s not the point. It was association by clan position at the start, and something more now. Abbot finds that there’s something attractive about the bright glint in Misha’s eyes, the soft curl to his mouth, the darkness of his magic.
“I don’t think there’s anyone in the city that wouldn’t be surprised at this,” says Abbot, dryly. “You never take first watch.”
“I’m thinking,” says Misha, after a moment. He leans forward, so his arms are braced on the tops of his thighs and his hands are clasped in front of him. The three black rings on his left hand glint in the light of the flames.
Abbot questions, “about?”
“Our chances. Twenty three percent that this kid is still alive,” says Misha, the numbers an easy sort of drawl. “If she is, there’s a seven percent chance that she’s still in one piece. The mission requirements. Bring her back, and make sure that she’s unharmed. That means there’s an eighty seven and a half chance that when we get back, we’re going to have trouble.”
Abbot sits, quiet, and listens.
Misha says, more to the fire then to Abbot, “add in the high chance that we’re going to be tired and injured, and our chances of winning that fight drop. But if we can figure out a way to circumvent it -”
“You want to try and get there sooner.”
Misha hums. The flames case pale shadows on his skin, highlighting the dark crescents under his eyes. “I can be fast.”
Abbot questions, “you want to go with a smaller coven.”
The corner of Misha’s mouth quirks up. “I want to take a nap out back. But I think a smaller coven would work.”
It’s a risk - but Misha is head-mage on this run for a reason. He’s smart. Smart enough that Abbot trusts him.
“Alright,” says Abbot. “I’ll go with you.”
That quirk goes bigger, into a crooked, tired sort of grin. “Yeah? Okay. So we’ve got a plan. I’m leaving at first change.”
Abbot tells him, “I suppose that’s when I’ll be leaving, too.”
