The adventures and shenanigans of Ex 'Adventurer' Vittoria "Vit" Burrasca, as they try to adapt to this new life style, and make the most of their new life in Mistria.
Vit is such a gremlin and I love them. Love the idea of Eiland and Adeline seeing the learning curve in 'how to farm' and going "oof, maybe we picked the wrong person for this."
Tag game where for the letters in a given word, you pick an excerpt from one of your WIPs that starts with that letter. Thank you @awkwardtuatara for tagging me with SNOW
I really needed something like this! I don't know if I've been in a rut lately, or just burnt out without realizing, but my energy to write has been so low ^^; This was a great help!
(also I hope you don't mind me responding from my fic blog!)
S: From a Discworld fic titled: "Memento Mori Mr. Vimes or: A Little Duchess"
In which after the death of the Duke and Duchess of Sto-Helit Lady Sybil Ramkin invites the young Susan to stay with her and her new husband for a brief time. The fic is set immediately after the events of Soul Music, and follows the idea that Lady Sybil and Ysabel knew each other and were friends.
Part of the ♬ﾟThe Sto Helit Family ♪♪♪♪ [snap snap] series
Someone placed dirt in Susan’s hand.
She looked at it vaguely curious. Despite her grandfather being Death, Susan had never attended a funeral.
Someone then gently explained that, she ought to be the first to throw the dirt on the casket.
Susan expressionlessly rolled the dirt between her fingers, examining it as if to spot for worms. She thought of how her mother would get cross if she got her petticoats too dirty from chasing the family dogs about. Meanwhile her father would say: “mind your mother” but would try not to laugh while he said it.
The concept of inhaling became a little hard for Susan. Her chest a bit tight. Then, some part of her, the part that remembered what it was like to do The Duty, mentioned: she didn’t have to breathe if she didn’t want to.
But she was alive, and she was here. With dirt in her hands.
“Go on,” encouraged a gentle voice.
N: Another Discworld fic titled: "Just In the Neck of Time"
In which, after deciding to leave Überwald for other potential pastures and schemes, Maurice and Ainsel (known to us readers as a young Moist von Lipwig) seek refuge at an inn on the border of Überwald and Borogravia. All seems well, and even full of pocket book potential, until a certain young vampire gets involved.
Part of the The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Stupid Kid [working title] series
"Now," the vampire tilted their head to the side, "remind me your name again?"
“Albrecht Schlemihl. a pleasure.” The name had just popped into Ainsel's mouth, bypassing his brain entirely. He only could hope it wouldn't turn into a sort of self fulfilling prophecy. Names could be funny that way sometimes. Even self given on the spot ones.
Newly Self Named Albrecht cleared his throat, and bowed politely to his pointy tooth companion "and yours?"
“Fenrir Maladict-” the vampire paused, it was so short a pause, that it was barely noticeable, a choice was made, “-torius Scudo Galantus Balor..." the vampire continued listing more and more names, and Ainsel's attention slid elsewhere. Nodding along he used this time to scope the rest of the restaurant area.
At the upturned cadence in the vampire's tone that signified the end of listing something, Albrecht's attention returned to the young vampire, who shrugged with beautiful nonchalance and said: "But, Fen is fine. Although, I'm thinking of potentially going by Gerald."
"Ah." Albrecht noticed that the vampire was expecting more of a reaction out of him and added, "it has a... nice ring to it!"
"Thank you! I think so too," said Potentially Gerald.
"So... if you don't mind me asking. What brings you to the border, friend?"
"I am en route to visit some family friends in Escrow. Celebrating the anniversary of the passing of the local Count.” This was said with the same charm as one would mention ‘sending off a dear friend who was going on a long boat voyage’. A toothy smile followed, "it is a time honored tradition."
“Oh! How, ah, nice.” Albrecht really should have paid more attention to geopolitics in school, but it could get so gosh darn tricky when the text book could change mid term. There was a small red flag waving desperately in his brain though, but Albrecht was far too enraptured with this person’s style. “That’s an awfully long trip to make from the border.”
Gerald shrugged like a textbook definition of nonchalance, “I enjoy taking in the,” they gave Albrecht a look that made his spine tingle, “scenery.”
The internal flag waver waved harder. “Is there that big a difference in scenery between Überwald and Borogravia?” asked Albrecht, wishing his voice didn’t pitch upwards from nerves.
Gerald shrugged again, “When living on the border, the invisible line to spot a difference can get tricky, trust me, or sometimes even comical.” There wasn’t much humor in their voice.
[something something]
“You know," smiled Albrecht, "I have a cousin in Ankh-Morpork”
“Oh yeah? You and everyone else.”
There was a dangerous silence, each deadpanning the other, until finally cracking up into laughter.
Maurice nodded, and decided this was the best time to slink upstairs and find Gerald's room.
O: From my mp100 serirei case fic "Glow Worms or rather: In the Depths of the Safflower Hills"
"Oof!"
They got the bicycles out of the back of the pickup, and waved Takeda farewell. Repeating their thanks as they did so.
When the truck turned the bend Serizawa looked at Reigen, keenly. The distance from the Takeda property must have helped.
"Can we talk about what happened?"
Reigen looked up into Serizawa's eyes. Profound and caring.
"Please," insisted Serizawa.
Reigen's tongue felt dry, and his bones as heavy as lead. "Yeah... yeah... could we rest first? I think I need to be horizontal for a while."
Serizawa nodded understandingly, he also felt less than great. His head still ringing with the distant echo of crying. "I get it," he said pressing a hand to his temple. "I could probably use something for my headache... and maybe sit somewhere dark and quiet for a bit and... just not be a person for a while."
"Heh, you said it, deputy."
"But we'll talk, right? Promise we'll talk?"
"Of course," Reigen gave his most charming lopsided smile, and hoped it looked encouraging. "How else can we compare notes?"
Serizawa stared at him, "okay..."
The sun was illuminating the porch marvelously. Richening the wood to an almost reddish quality. Attracted to it like a cat, Reigen suggested they napped on it. Serizawa refused- out right. In a kind way.
Reigen could go ahead, but Serizawa yearned for the soft tatami in the attic room, and the option to close the blinds, blocking out the sun for a while.
So, after synchronizing an alarm, and promising yet again that they'd talk more after resting, they made their separate ways.
Warm and delightful as it was under the sun, as blades of grass and leaves made a soft shaaaaa sound with the wind, sleep did not come easy to Reigen. He turned about, and looked for new positions, drowsiness almost aching to let go.
Sleep wouldn’t come at all.
Reigen unwrapped a lollypop and grumbled below the blue sky. Then, he grumbled about at least doing something productive. He grumbled his way to find the bamboo woven basket of horsetails, grumbled back to the patch of sunlight illuminated porch, and got to husking.
With each horsetail something rattled and nagged at his mind. To the point he almost found the soft breeze annoying. He looked at the ashtray in a wistful way, and unwrapped another lollypop - its stem blackening with his black stained fingers (from husking horsetails).
“Fine,” he said to a husked horsetail, frowning around the cherry lollypop. “Just one look.”
Reigen folded the husked horsetails in a cheesecloth towel, so it would not mix with the un-husked horsetails. Checked the time. Convinced himself he could be back before Serizawa would wake up. And, just in case, wrote a note to Serizawa: Yo! Hope you slept well. I woke up early. Wanted to go for a little ride. Be back soon~!
Reigen folded the note, staining it with horsetail root residue, leaving an almost rusty like thumbprint. He quietly placed it next to Serizawa who - in a heart fluttering way, snored ever so lightly.
Reigen washed his hands, got to the bicycle and walked it up the path, up hill, to the road that lead down the northbound lane of the mountain. He swung a leg over the bicycle, and was off. Air and wind rushing past his ears.
The forrest edge was denser here, as the northbound lane also branched out to a road that lead to the cusp of a national park. Filled with old growths.
Sometimes school trips were organized with the park, to take students into the mountain. Teaching them about forging, and the history of the mountain. The old abandoned mine was a popular trail destination for students. Initially made for the search of gold, but settled just fine with iron ore.
Reigen’s nose was rich with earthy smells. The lingering dried leaves slowly becoming one with the soil. The splash of iced snow yet to melt out of the sun’s reach.
He braced himself for the chill of being covered by the canopy. Covered in the forest’s shadow. Away from the sun.
The road was paved, yet hanging stretching branches arched as mightily as cathedrals, or the most ornate of palaces. When rays of sunlight did manage to pass through the leaves and branches, it was a sight mightier than any stain glass window.
Reigen smirked to himself, enjoying the lazy zig zag he was doing down hill. He used to zig zag a lot when cycling as a child, enjoying the sensation of a long, smooth curve.
He was content to have been able to share that with Serizawa earlier today. He cherished the memory. Especially Serizawa’s elated smile.
Then, in a bout of nostalgia, Reigen centered his weight, slowly lifted one hand from the handlebar, then the other. He wobbled a little, not having ridden a bicycle without hands in so long. But once muscle memory kicked in Reigen and felt like he was flying down hill.
All at once he was a child again. The feeling came like an overlap of realities, like a sudden bout of laughter.
Energy and adrenaline and the fast rush of going down hill rose within him from his toes to the tips of his hair. And when he couldn’t hold it in anymore, he let loose a jovial “Whaaaaaahhhoooooo!!!”
He was Arataka, who had just delivered something to his aunt’s neighbor, and was on his way back to his aunt’s for the inevitable home made meal that awaited. Perhaps sweet potatoes. Or maybe she had neighbors over for a stew party. Or…
W: From an upcoming Fields of Mistria fic titled: "Ghost of a Shadow, Shadow of a Ghost"
In which a familiar, familiar appears before Vit! Which would be wonderful, if they weren’t somewhat suspicious…
Part of the Way of the Farmer series
"...Well, you don’t always have to use my title, Vit.”
“I… don’t?”
“It’s so… formal.”
“Well, sure,” shrugged Vit, “you’re…” they gestured vaguely to all of Lord Eiland. Groomed hair, perfect smile. Well-dressed with gold tints and burgundy tassels. Smelling of vanilla, and dust, with the slightest bit of dirt under the nails from the archeological dig site. “Well.”
“…Yes,” said Lord Eiland slowly, “I suppose I am…”
“And I’m, well. I mean c’mon now,” Vit gestured to themself, with well worn clothes that could practically move on their own. Salty, scarred up, missing a tooth or two, smelling of… not vanilla.
Lord Eiland tilted his head to the side.
“It’s the- what’s the saying,” Vit snapped their fingers frantically. “The noblesse aubergine of it all!”
Lord Eiland frowned, visibly disheartened. Which crushed Vit. It was like kicking a puppy.
“Perhaps,” said Lord Eiland carefully, “we… certainly have had different, erm, lives up until now.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t mean… that is to say… you don’t have to…” Lord Eiland wilted as he trailed off.
“Did. Did I upset you, Lord Eiland? I’m sor-”
“Distancing,” interrupted Lord Eiland before Vit could bow.
“Distancing?”
“Yes, it’s distancing. And…”
Something clicked in Vit. “And I suppose that could feel, isolating?”
Lord Eiland nodded. “Like I’m not… a real person.”
“I…see…”
An awkward silence stretched before the two of them. Vit contemplated the grass, the same grass Lord Eiland was standing on, that everyone stood on, really. Then contemplated the open sky above, the same sky that was above Lord Eiland… above everyone, really.
The young Lord sighed, turned to move, and was shocked to find a hand sticking out for him to shake.
“Um?” He shook it politely, not entirely able to stop the compulsion to do so. Operating on the same logic of how hard it can be sometimes to halt oneself from taking a flyer from someone on the street.
“What do you say we grab lunch together, Eiland?”
Eiland beamed.
A while later, as they both made their way towards the inn for a lunch, Eiland said, “also, I think you meant ‘noblesse oblige’ earlier.”
“Ah.”
-
And that's it! ___〆(・∀・) Thank you so much again!!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Struggling with becoming a morning person better suited at dealing with the rigors of farming life, Vit seeks out Balor to help get them a little something, to help them finally get some sleep.
"the good fibers, you know?" Vit brought fingers to their lips, imitating a smoking gesture.
"Vit," said Balor flatly, "I'm not that kind of merchant."
Part 2 of Way of the Farmer
Reblogs, Comments, and Kudos are deeply appreciated ♡
