Cerys bit down on a glove, tugging her hand free then holding the piece between her teeth. She reached for his face with the now bare hand, eyes fixed on the injury on his head, and gently pushed a lock of hair away from the open wound.
Heinrix held a breath at the contact, something of a half-chill running through him at her touch, though his face betrayed none of it. She wouldn't see, either way, concentrated as she was on the care of his injuries.
Her hand was firm, though the movement was gentle. In a single gesture she'd gathered the loose hair between her fingers, then shifted her hand upwards to expose the shrapnel cuts still needing treatment, fingertips sliding softly across his skin and scalp before resting lightly at the side of his head.
The single, inappropriate thought that crossed his mind was that of giving to the temptation to lean against the gesture.
I like to think Cerys doesn't enjoy the idea of leaving Heinrix to care for his wounds with biomancy all the time, specially if it's something that requires fishing shrapnel or debris out of the wound first. She can't give anyone medical assistance, Kibellah is often the one who does that, but Cerys helps when she can.
If you ask her about it, Cerys will probably think about when she kissed him in the Magnae Accessio to be the first time she touched him, but Heinrix has other memories of it (how can someone so easily give concern and gentle care for him like this?).
Ah so... it was her. That one. He remembered the bright, blood-red hair from Tazarra's arena; those pearlescent eyes and skin like bleached bone. She stepped into the clearing and Marazhai hefted his rifle over one shoulder, favouring the low creature with a sharp smile dripping with venom.
'At last. You took your time coming to meet me, mon-keigh.'
One of her misfit group of guards drew his weapon. 'You stand in the presence of the Rogue Trader, Ada von Valancius, xenos! If you dare speak to her at all, it will be with the deference her title demands!'
Marazhai inclined his head. Ada. Ada. So that was this one's name. Such a simple and unassuming moniker for one who might prove so crucial to his plans. Well, no matter. He would do her the honour of carving those three letters upon his memory, for now. When the time came that she had outlived her usefulness, he would gouge her name out and never think of her again. She would be a mere footnote in the glorious and bloody tale of his rise. Perhaps not even that.
No... he thought, meeting that defiant, opaline gaze. Not even that. He was certain.
Thank you, @thetartmuse! This was a juicy little tidbit to write! >)
For the first time asks: first time Cerys woke next to Heinrix? :)
Sleep did not come easily to her, and even when it did, it was often cut short by unpleasant dreams or simply her wounded mind's inability to remain still for too long.
Cerys stirred, half-confused from the slumber, only for her body to meet resistance. Realization came in a quick chain, then: she'd invited Heinrix to her chambers as the day reached its end, and before he clothed himself and hurried away, mustered the courage to ask him to stay. At how easily he complied - returning under the sheets to wrap himself around her - he'd been hoping for her to do so for a while now.
He'd succumbed to tiredness first, forehead pressed to her throat and cheek to her chest. Her arm under him had already begun to stiffen and she couldn't find a way to shift her legs into a more comfortable position, but Cerys didn't move, and sleep eventually claimed her, even if for a little while.
Heinrix was still with his arms tightly wrapped around her waist, face shoved into the crook of her neck, his breathing lazily brushing against her collarbones. Her arm under him had lost sensation, but the other free hand went to rest at the nape of his neck, nails scratching softly at his skin.
When the candlelight caught the gold of the Inquisitorial Rosette resting at the bottom of her bed frame, Cerys sighed and, gently, pressed Heinrix tighter to her.
At least the lack of sleep prolonged the moments she couldn't enjoy otherwise.
I got a little carried away with this one. fdsgfdh
Even after Commorragh it takes her a few nights to ask him to stay. Partially because she's a terrible insomniac and thinks she makes a poor sleeping partner, but mostly because it's a type of vulnerability she's never had with a romantic partner before.
She probably slept only an hour or so, but she got to big spoon and pet his hair for most of the night, so it's still a win! <3
the first time ada and marazhai dine together...... <3
'Come, my little pet. The recent incursion among your subjects has filled my territory with fresh meat. I've set aside the ringleaders and am eager to indulge. You will join me.'
Ada stared up at Marazhai, collecting herself as she processed the sudden intrusion on her hitherto quiet evening. The only thing more surprising than the Drukhari's arrival was his unusually affable demeanour. After a beat she pulled the fork from her mouth.
'Right now?' she asked, her mouth still full of the braised grox that had been brought for her supper. She was reluctant to leave it almost completely untouched on its bed of honey-glazed carrots and leeks drenched in sauce made from some cheese whose name she couldn't pronounce, but apparently one bite was worth more than a noblewoman's dowry.
Marazhai's gaze narrowed, but the tilt of his head and the lingering spark in his eyes, told her that he wasn't actually irritated, at least not yet. 'You have something better to do with your time?'
She made a show of giving the question some thought as she chewed. The delicately seasoned meat melted against her tongue and she savoured the tenderness a little longer than necessary before she finally swallowed it down, answering him before the humour in his expression began to wane.
'Can I finish up here first?'
The dark eyes narrowed further, his lip curling in a show of playful disdain with which she was now intimately familiar.
'You would delay our pleasure for such paltry indulgences as these?' he scoffed, leaning over the small table and gesturing at the food set out between them. Such scorn roused her irritation. Before assuming the title of Rogue Trader, Ada could only have dreamed of enjoying such a meal.
'Wouldn't you rather I was well fed and energised for our feast?' she asked, pointedly spearing another mouthful of meat. She brought the heavily laden fork to her lips, her eyes trained on his, only to have Marazhai reach across the table with the speed of a hunting serpent, capturing her hand between his armour-clad fingers. She frowned, and tried to pull her hand away, which only made his smile curve higher and his grip tighten. Defiant, she leaned forward to try and eat the mouthful. In response, he pulled it just beyond her reach... and then further...
'Wait! Don't you da- '
Too late. The meat, dripping with jus, disappeared behind sharp teeth and pale lips, and when he released her hand the silver prongs came away bare. She stared at them in silence. It took her several moments to settle herself as she wrestled with old memories of having scraps of mouldy bread snatched from her fingers, or her cup of rancid bone broth kicked and spilled across the floor before she'd even taken one sip. No doubt he savoured the emotions those recollections conjured even more than...
Her anger deflated at that realisation, and at the smug look he cast her way. Bastard... of course that was his intent.
'Let me guess...' she said as he swallowed. 'It doesn't compare to the screaming agony of your victims?'
He chuckled, the sound warm and satisfied. 'Of course not. But for mon-keigh fare... I at least have the satisfaction of knowing my pet is adequately cared for.'
Void, he was effortlessly insufferable. But Ada could feel her own smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, though she fought valiantly to hold it back.
'High praise indeed,' she retorted. And then, in a moment of brazen forwardness that she would later put down to the half-empty glass of dammassine sitting by her plate: 'Does that mean you won't be too insulted if I invite you to join me?'
Insulted? No, that was certainly not the reaction she saw briefly rush behind his eyes before he carefully covered it over. But could it really have been genuine surprise?
'I suppose. Since I have nothing better to do with my time...'
Ada did a far less commendable job of hiding her own astonishment as he slipped with easy grace into the seat opposite her. She watched as he picked up her crystal glass and took a sip of its dark contents, while she helped herself to another bite grox and then prepared a forkful to offer him. Sharing her meal did not quite spark her outrage as watching him steal it from under her nose had done. She held the meat up to him, briefly contemplated teasing him with it, and decided against.
'Something wrong?' she asked when she saw his expression falter as he chewed.
'I prefer my meat rarer,' he said simply, taking another sip of the dammassine and then handing it to her. For the most fleeting of moments, their fingers touched. 'Remember that... for next time.'
She looked at him over the rim of the glass, and was glad that she could hide behind it as she lost the battle to hold back her smile.
'Next time.'
Thank you @amasec for this prompt! It kind of got away from me, but was really sweet to write (I love Marazhai being an insufferable gremlin)!
First time... Yori thought about holding/touching Emmrich's hands? bet they liked watching him work, and he has long pretty hands y'know 😌
As Emmrich so passionately expanded on the topic Yorath had questioned him in - well, at this point, an adjacent topic to what they had initially asked him for - the elf couldn't stop themself from paying close attention to the professor's fingers.
The necromancer gestured as he spoke, his slender hand adorned by gold dancing in the air to emphasize the argument Yori was now only paying half a mind. Emmrich placed the same hand on the open book at the desk, absentmindedly caressing the page before his fingertip reached the edge of the paper to flip it, exposing perfectly replicated anatomical diagrams that Yorath looked but didn't see.
He then cast the according spell on the skull gently cradled on his free hand - pale green magic came at Emmrich's invitation, surrounding his fingers and clinging to skin at his summon. The ebb and flow of death clung to his digits, leaving an ethereal trail behind, before being expertly transferred to the cranium.
When the lesson was over, all that remained in Yorath's memory were the details of Emmrich's lived hands - the wrinkles of time and the elegance of his gestures, the golden rings that bit gently at the skin that seemed so soft even at a distance - and the desire to touch them that had made itself a haunting guest on Yori's imagination.
Yori probably paid a lot of attention to Emmrich's hands... first very innocently, then still innocently but well, their focus was elsewhere. 😌
Emmrich probably had to repeat a few of his lessons until Yori managed to pay actual attention to what he was saying.
She was taken aback when Marazhai came to sit near her, despite the glares from other members of her retinue warning him not to draw close. Abelard gave her a meaningful look as he handed her a bowl full of... of... actually Ada didn't want to know what it was full of. It was grey, mostly liquid, and smelt like salted vomit. A rather spectacular return to form after growing accustomed to the rich food that came with being Rogue Trader.
With a reassuring nod she waved Abelard back to his place, but whatever the Drukhari might have wanted to say to her, he seemed in no rush now. He simply laid his sword across his armoured thighs and began to clean Khymerae guts from the blade - the remnants of their latest battle in the arena.
Picking up the rusted metal spoon, Ada took a mouthful of her meal, grateful for having even this much to sustain her. It was just as awful as she had expected. What she didn't expect was the feeling of something hard moving against her tongue, and then a sharp pinching sensation. She winced and nearly choked, but managed not to spit the entire mouthful out. Instead, grimacing, she reached between her lips to grab whatever it was that had decided it preferred biting to being bitten.
It was an insect - black with spindly yellow legs and a nasty pair of pincers that were still opening and closing around nothing. She held it between thumb and forefinger, her tongue throbbing and her stomach turning over. Before she could recover from this unpleasant shock, she caught the sound of a chuckle nearby. Marazhai was watching her, his head tilted to one side and his mouth twisted into a sharp grin.
"What? Not accustomed to your food fighting back?"
It should not have been funny. Especially in their current circumstances and especially coming from him. But she spluttered again, and her hand flew to her mouth as she threatened to spray its contents across the floor. It nearly came out of her nose, but she managed to choke it down as the laughter struggled up from the other direction. The sound of it filled their sombre corner of the Chasm - eerie and alien. She was fairly certain it was the first time she had laughed since waking up in this hell-hole. Never would she have thought that Marazhai would be the one to bring humour back into her world.
And when she looked over to him, and saw his eyes in the instant before he resumed that mask of scorn, she was struck by the thought that he might be just as surprised as she was.
Thank you @pheedraws for this prompt! Sorry it's a little gross... but it was a lovely first demonstration for the weird sense of humour these two share! <3
For the first time prompt: the first time Cerys let her guard down. :3
This one got really carried away from me, I've been reading too much about tanks and I wanted to write some conversation anyway - so you get a bit of silly, a bit of nerdiness, and a bit of hurting <3 Maybe I'll clean this up at some point and make it a proper ficlet
FIRST TIME PROMPT
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Amidst all the marble, gold statues and carefully pruned trees of Dargonus, Cerys inevitably found herself drawn to the war machines displayed around the von Valancius palace grounds.
They stood almost crassly against the ocean of gold, their wear and tear mostly preserved, the chipped paints of various regiments polished to a sheen. Beasts of war, dressed up to be gawked at instead, by people who could only romanticize what it meant to serve to begin with.
Or maybe she was the one romanticizing it, trying to find kinship with old tanks where she couldn't with the people around her, thinking the only honour one had was to die forgotten in a battlefield.
Cerys had heard him already, but Heinrix still cleared his throat to make his approach known, as he usually would before butting into Vox conversations with information Abelard would make a point to be upset about him knowing them at all.
He stopped beside her, joining his hands in front of his body idly, staring up at the 200 year old Punisher in front of them.
"Is this an inspection, Lord Captain?"
She snorted, briefly turning slightly towards him. "I'm... looking for someone who looks more like me."
The Interrogator nodded, and they shared a minute of surprisingly comfortable silence - the three of them. By the corner of the eye, Cerys saw what she thought were Heinrix's lips curving slightly.
"I'd relate you more to a Demolisher, Lady Cerys." He said, and this was maybe the first time she heard someone be so genteel while comparing a woman to a battle tank.
The laugh came easy out of her, and she noticed the same of the smile he was previously trying to suppress. Cerys felt her shoulders loosen - she forgot he'd been in the Guard as well.
"A Demolisher, not a Conqueror?"
Heinrix paused for a moment, and then without losing his easiness, admitted while looking down to the tank's tracks with a frown. "You got me, that's as far my knowledge goes. All I know is the one I deployed under was... effective."
"You mean it blew a hole right through everything then charged past. Conqueror do that as well, but you can strap twice the guns."
He gave her a short laugh. Cerys had heard him laugh before, but usually with varying levels of sarcasm laced to it - this one sounded genuine.
"I'd go with Executioner for me." She carried on, looking over to the tank on display, aware that Heinrix was staring at her now. "They're... temperamental." She lifted her chin with a smug grin. "But they were Titan killers back home."
Cerys bit her lip before proceeding, spinning one of her rings in place with the other hand.
"You still find the corpses sometimes, peeking through the sand - whatever is left of them. Sulfur is the gold altar they got, I suppose."
Their smiles died out at this, and she refused to look at him. Likewise, she knew Heinrix was pretending to focus on the display's plate in front of them.
"I understand your family was all part of your company?"
She froze up at the question.
"And what would be the purpose of that question, Interrogator?" She gave him a cautious look.
Henrix's eyes snapped back at her, and for a second, they had a look on them Cerys didn't have time to decipher, as he returned the awkward caution to her.
"It's not..." He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "Personal curiosity, Cerys. I assure you it's of no consequence to my work."
With a nod, she reached instinctively to the ceremonial blade strapped on her belt, thumbing the lion head pommel for a minute.
"They were, yes. Dragged all of them by the scruff into service with me." She smiled sadly. "That led to some resentment, but it kept us together. My brother Ilyas should have taken the Captain role by now."
When she looked up, Heinrix was not staring at her anymore, but she could read a distant longing in them, or at least something of this tune. Cerys remembered he mentioned sisters, and her chest tightened a bit. Months ago, she couldn't think of a world where she'd be able to let go of her siblings - but now, much like Heinrix, she wasn't given a choice in the matter.
"Maybe one day we can be back together." She mumbled, more to herself than to add to the conversation.
The silence turned tense, both having peeked a little too deep into something they were not ready to put on display just yet. The Interrogator straightened again, the emotion almost fully gone from his eyes, though his voice remained pleasant.
"With your present privileges, Lord Captain, that would not be that difficult a task." Heinrix inclined his head.
Now, Cerys really couldn't help but wonder if that had been truly a question of interest, or if he was to gauge her commitment as Rogue Trader.
Whichever the truth, the answer would be the same anyway.
"I see the Warrant as duty first, privileges second, Master van Calox." She brought both hands to rest behind her back, letting formality slip back into her voice. "They'll survive without me."
Heinrix was still speaking, but she could only half-process the words.
Cerys' gaze remained to her outstretched hand on the dinner table, fingers touching the cold wood where moments ago had been his hand before he recoiled at her touch.
It had been on instinct– she could tell as much when she mustered the effort to look at his face as Heinrix continued talking, his shoulders tense and eyes wary like a cornered animal.
But knowing that didn't make the feeling of daggers stuck to her chest any less real.
Cerys muttered an expletive in her mother tongue, seeing the shock and confusion on Heinrix's face for just a second before she briskly stood, the chair almost falling to the ground as she did, starting her march towards the stairs before he called her name once and rushed to her.
Beloved dinner scene huh~ There were other times where she got annoyed or angry at him in varying degrees, but really angry, it's definitely during the dinner scene.
Being emotionally vulnerable is a gargantuan task for Cerys, and equally so for Heinrix, but with everything else going on, that time hits her threshold. She reads that physical recoil as a pattern: no matter how patient and persistent she is, there's always going to be a limit of how much vulnerability he's willing (more like able, but she's not really thinking logically at the time) to give in return. And it weighs on her: what's the point then if she's going to give all she has only to get half of him in return?
She does give him an earful and unlike in-game, doesn't really allow him to comfort her right away or even spends the night with him. They have a proper, even-headed talk the next day, but boy oh boy that night was... a wreck.
