I uuuuusually don’t like to write, buuuut @stephicness was super sweet and encouraging about me throwing up something I wrote for her for a mini fic swap thingie. Soooo have this stuff that was supposed to come out of an “anything about blankets” prompt!
Ravus had always liked the rain.
In the past, it had always been a symbol of reassurance. The steady patter of droplets often reminded him of the days he spent staring out at the fields of the Fenestala Manor. While others would take the rain as a cue to find shelter from the oncoming gloom, Ravus would always find comfort in the stark grey palette that fell over the landscape, claiming all in sight to itself. It was a scene of the world--his home--untouched by the presence of people. Not to mention that, if he truly tried hard enough, he could imagine the empty landscape free of Nifleheim’s control. A childish thought, perhaps, but Ravus would periodically allow such small blemishes of wishful thinking to encroach upon his typically cynical demeanor.
Despite all this, the rain brought no condolences today. It was still loyal to bringing its ever-steady presence, though, coming down hard and fast and relentless, but it was tellingly cold this time around.
Ravus was completely drenched, his uniform clinging heavily to his body as water dripped from his soaked hair to the ground. He had quickly separated himself from company when he had received news of Lunafreya’s death. He was lucky that the compound they had retreated to after the mess that was Altissia was a large space. He had time to himself. He had time to think.
He also had time to catch a cold. Or something worse.
He hoped so. It would certainly put him out of his misery.
He was painfully aware that turning a blind eye to the Hydraean had painted a target on his back. He would soon be following his sister. Fitting, given that he had allowed her to walk to her fate. Some older brother he was, even if he had had no other choice. The choice had always been Lunafreya’s.
Regardless of what he wanted, Ravus knew that he could not be idle for too long. Mourning or not, wishing for death or not, he had a job to do. Noctis had gained Leviathan’s blessing. He needed to find a way to return The Sword of the Father. He could not be selfish with his grief.
But as much as he wished he could live up to his icy reputation, he could not bring himself to stand. He could only stare at the steady drip of water from the sharpened claws of his Magitek arm to the ground.
This would be the second time his world had crashed to the ground around him, shaking itself groggily before righting itself once more. The first time, he had been snapped out of his delusion that he could have been enough to save his sister... and the world. He had paid for his stupidity and arrogance with his arm. It had been a painful reminder that fate was a wall of iron. It could not be collapsed by simply ramming his own body into it. In the end, he had only caused himself harm for trying.
He would have wallowed endlessly in self-pity if it hadn’t been for that night the door had creaked open, and a head of red hair had poked itself in.
Despite all the fury he had spat at the approaching Chancellor, Ardyn had simply sauntered up to him in (for once, thank the Gods) silence. The mattress had dipped down next to him, and he had lashed out with his good arm, only for it to be caught and handled with the utmost care. Truly a child in that moment, Ravus had fallen silent, trembling in humiliation and shame and frustration as Ardyn simply tugged the blankets up around him, settling.
Do not pity me.
It hadn’t been pity. Or, at least, he hadn’t seen it in his eyes. Ardyn’s expression had taken on a thoughtful look, as if he had caught a butterfly by the wings between his fingers, and he was trying to decide whether to crush the crippled thing or release it. Then, he had settled on something along the lines of understanding, not pity, before he had carefully wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.
Perhaps he should have been more insistent on shoving him off. As much as his and Ardyn’s constant banter had become a routine like the steady fall of rain, even more consistent was the looming dread that came with Ardyn’s presence. It was like facing the warmth of a fire that could easily turn all in its wake to ash.
I know the price of the Covenant.
The man could joke freely with him in one moment and then turn around and say things like that in the next. He had held him close, providing warmth, but he had also been separated from him by the barrier that was the blankets between them. He had seen the way Ardyn’s fingers had tightened around the sheets, not daring to actually meet his skin, as if he had been protecting himself instead of…
Instead of what?
Whatever he had wanted to take it as--comfort, empathy, sympathy--it hadn’t been that. That moment of weakness, cocooned within silken sheets, had startled him into the world. Not everything was so simple. Not everything was so black and white. And sometimes, there was nothing he could do about it. He had to learn to persevere. He would spend his life trying to make up for his actions. Not that he had that long for it anyway.
There was a motion from beside him, and Ravus looked up in time for his vision to be completely engulfed in darkness as something heavy and soft flopped unceremoniously on top of him. Letting out something like a silent snarl, the High Commander tore it off of him with his Magitek arm, only to be greeted with a familiar smug smile. He felt himself deflate.
“Chancellor.”
Ardyn stood over him. He made no move to sit. Instead, he adjusted his hat, motioning to the blanket he had just dumped onto the moping Tenebraen prince, “You should really dry yourself off.”
Ravus’s heterochromatic eyes fell back on the blanket drooping sadly in the grasp of his metallic hand, like a slain rabbit in the talons of some hawk. “This is a blanket.”
“It was the best I could do. If you wanted a towel, you shouldn't have run off by yourself.”
Ravus turned away, draping the blanket over his shoulders. He knew that it would provide no warmth in this manner--at least not over his soaked uniform. And he also knew that Ardyn was aware that he knew. It was a flippant gesture, one that blatantly meant “go away”.
“Ravus,” Ardyn persisted with that incredibly irritating amused tone of his, “Surely if you remain this way, you will fall ill.”
There was a hint of a threat in that statement. But Ravus had accepted his fate long from the moment Ardyn had taunted him outside the steps of the church.
I know the price of the Covenant.
He tightened his grip on the blanket, pulling it closer to him--a barrier and a shield. Something that would forever separate them. For a moment, he could have sworn that he felt like he had lost something.
He was starting to get pretty cold, but he made no move to stand.
So long as he was alive, he would have to find some way to support Noctis. He was a dead man walking, but he wasn't dead just yet.
*He...just wanted to have a fun night out with his boyfriend, okay?*
*Was that too much to ask?*
*Apparently. Apparently it was.*
*He was joking around, having a laugh and...dammit it was a quiet neighborhood. He’d never actually seen a car drive down this road, so naturally he didn’t look before he stepped out into the road, facing back toward Canice*
Clint Barton could say that he had made better choices, smarter choices in his life, but that would be a lie. He was infamous for bad decisions so he didn’t think anyone would be surprised about this one if they caught word of it. Well, actually he hadn’t made the decision yet. Right now, it hung in the air between the two masked men. His eyes hesitant on Wade’s masked facial expressions, so he couldn’t necessarily tell what the merc was thinking.
To say the avengers would loose their shit, knowing that one of their own was tangled up in something as deadly and reckless as Deadpool. Clint on the other hand, was just as messy and deadly as the merc. He was better at hiding it. He swallowed, pulling the simple black cloth from over his eyes, letting it hang in his hands.
“well it’s your turn... take the mask off Wade.” He breathed out, eyes steady and obediently trained on the assassin across from him. For some reason it felt like his entire being was on end because one step would be messing around with the enemy and last time he did that, it burned. Hard. The pain from the end of that carried him through life in a dismal color that he was sure Wade thought he could fix, maybe smack a smile across the bird’s face or something.
She was sure he was always around here at this time. But the gymnasium was completely empty. Maybe this school had another one? Twirling a little, green hues wandered around the area which was vast enough to cause each step to echo. And for voices to bounce in all directions. One quick turn bringing the boy in to view outside the opposite door of the area, a smile shining across her face instantly. He would be surprised to see her back so early from the tour, right?
But only for a few moments. Before she could even get half way over, she was halted. Eyes fixated on a girl who had appeared and showed every sign of flirting with him, something she would have usually brushed aside,...had she not suddenly kissed him! And he didn't seem to push her away at least in the time she was watching. Mariko froze in position, fists clenching tightly by her sides. What was she doing? He...was her boyfriend. Why...? A churning in her stomach, clenching in her chest...what was going on?
Even quicker than she had turned to reach him, the blonde twirled back around to run in the opposite direction. Of course he would grab the attention of other girls but to actually kiss one. Was she too childish? Not good enough? Of course something would happen with another girl. She was just a stupid kid afterall.
My character vanishes one day. About a year later your character spots them out in public with a baby! How does your character react?
Darcy rubbed at her eyes, trying to will them in to working properly. The last week had been hell. She hadn't known what to expect, really. It wasn't like people kept anniversaries of when they're hearts got broken. But it was coming up on exactly one year since Bucky had walked out their front door and just never came back. Steve had put everything in to finding him, called in every favour, but there was nothing, no trace. He'd taken it badly, to say the least, and with it coming up to the year mark it felt like all those feelings were resurfacing. Nights were long, filled with them burying themselves in to each other, trying to forget and failing completely.
With her coffee in hand, Darcy moved down the street, dodging the flow of people with only a second off her normal reaction time. It was only when she bumped in to someone, wrenching her shoulder around, that she looked up, and froze completely. He was there, on the other side of the street, a...no, no way, that couldn't be right. She was seeing things. Because there was no way James Barnes - their James Barnes - was only a few feet away, baby curled up in his arms.
She didn't even realise she'd dropped the coffee and was moving until she was only an arms length away from him, hand reaching out for his back. He was right there, alive and well and...not theirs anymore. With half a stifled sob her hand dropped and she turned away, trying to push through the crowd, to get home, back to Steve, and pretend she hadn't seen anything at all.
Itachi, I'm proud of you, son. You're amazingly strong, and even if we came down on different sides, I still respect that. Thank you for taking care of your brother. I am so proud of the shinobi you've become, you've dived deeper into the shadows than most would ever dream of, and you're still such a gentle child, I know how it must hurt. I can barely believe you're this strong. -Fugaku.
Hearing his father's voice he felt another pang of guilt. When had his own thoughts and inner torments grown so powerful that they'd become so realistic? He didn't know, but he'd liked to believe that all of this wasn't necessarily in his head and that he wasn't slowly losing his mind with the steady progression of his illness. He'd rather believe that beyond all possibilities that somehow his father really was there with him even if he knew it couldn't be real.
"Tou-san...I-I..." He took a steadying breath, trying to keep from choking on his words. "...thank you for everything. It's just that sometimes I don't know if I've taken the right path or not and that's one of the things that hurts the most."
