#fredsiu

[brahameirson]

femslash febuary! (most wonderful time of the year playing)

@stagrunner we dont even play this game anymore but i still. love them

[brahameirson]

these nerds have been kissing for a year now !!

[brahameirson]

there she go

[brahameirson]

more fredsiu. who would've known

sad stuff, kinda au in which fred's unit would've stayed in the wastes longer than it did, enough to learn abt sylvari's nature

Mornings are always the worst part. It's been a long time since you've slept at her side without being entangled with her. You supposed that's the downside of being part of the frontline, however- Wounds happen. You sit down near your shared bedrolls, slowly putting on your uniform. Her long, brown locks cover most of her face, yet her eyes shone like gems in the mere light of the morning. "When are you leaving?" "Once I'm dressed." It comes out a little flat, though it's mostly because you're focused on putting on the cleanest socks you could find with a single hand. Having a broken wrist isn't exactly the greatest for mundane tasks. "I meant your unit." She hands you the other one, trying to lean up on her left arm and flinching in pain-- Completely bandaged from shoving it down a Mordrem's mouth. You sigh at her, picking it swiftly with your staff as she lays back down. "Soon. Most of us are injured- There's no point of keeping us around this warzone." For some reason in this blasted heat, your feet feel frozen. You curse to your mind, trying your best to fit your leg in the cloth. "Do you know where you'll be going next?" This makes you stop right as you reach your ankle. She's sitting up now and staring right at you, with the most serious look that you've ever seen her wear- More than when you first spoke about your feelings for each others.

"... Why?" "I-- ... I've got a bad feeling, Fréd."

She looks down, and you feel yourself ply under her. "You've seen how those other soldiers looked at you since we heard about how you and the other s-" "What are you trying to say?" You feel something wrapping around your throat and pining in the back of your head as you look at her, and she reaches out to you. You recoil under your touch- It's been so since news of the fleet's crash reached the Pact. Everyone's eyes have been turned on the sylvari, and the opinions usually go from "Detain them all and study them" to "Burn them and the Grove". Most of your unit refuses to look at you and your kin, and it would've truly been terrifying if not for her sticking up to you. "We could, you know. Leave." "Leave?" "Without notice. Get what you can and just, vanish with me." She looks back up and you can see the tears in her eyes. You feel a sharp pain in your chest, and the emotions in your throat sinking down and spreading. "I, don't want you to get hurt. No more." "But I can't just, leave like that, Siuvahn. I need to ask the Warmaster and-" "Yes you can! Yes, you..." Her voice cracks, and you feel like the dam is about to break. You momentarily glance at your boots, near the entrance. All things considered, you could leave. Pack up everything, ditch the uniform. Take a chest cover and leggings and run off into the Wildlands with your love, free of it all. Free of all those glares, those whispers. But at the same time, you're held back. You swore to serve Tyria. You swore to protect, to defend and to be its sword and shield. You stare into her eyes for a few moments, before getting off the bench and kneeling next to her, doing your best to keep contact with her. "I can't do it, Siuvahn." Her hands move to your back slowly, before tipping you over into her bare chest. As you lay your head against her shoulders, you feel her sob, and you can't help but let the sea that build up over time out. It hurts. Her rough hands hold you as close as they can, while yours bury themselves into her hair. She whimpers and whines, burying herself in your small neck. You feel your head thumping with emotions, every worries and fears buried inside you from the start of all this pouring out like a river. You remain a long time like this, holding each others and letting it go. Eventually, she pulls away, her face as red as when you whisper to her. You both breathe heavily, and she wipes your face with a softness you rarely get to see. "Will you be fine?" You wish you could say the truth with certainty. "I'm sure I will." Smiling sheepishly, you look down at her scarred body, and she pulls you closer once more. Maybe you could sleep a few more hours, this morning. After all, you're certain nothing but her is holding you now.

[elastic-slingshot]

not feeling 2 good so i drew some fredsiu

[brahameirson]

overwhelming gay feelings about a 4 feet tall plant

fred's letter

[brahameirson]

siuvahn more like

i mean sylvaris sure are sappy so i feel it

[brahameirson]

this post made me so mad i also had to write something @stagu

No matter how excited she was about it, there was always a strange thought popping in the back of your head, trying to get you to stop her. Orr. She was to be sent there with the rest of her unit to help support a cleansing operation. You couldn't trust your ears when she told you. As she left, she gave you a small braided flower bracelet. And while it's the last thing Siuvahn, legendless saladeating facepunching norn thug would wear, you sport it almost with pride, day through night. Mostly because it's directly linked to her, through a little funny magic bond she read about in a bundle of notes a Priory sapling forgot behind. So on the 17th night, when a little less than half the flowers suddenly withered, you just couldn't sleep and instead spent most of the night writing to her. From there, your dreams were clouded with the worst. The growing feeling of dread inside you was driving you nuts. The day they came back, you were the first one waiting, and you were washed with relief as you saw the small pink edges of her head peak out. Your breath was still stuck to your throat when you saw her limping with her staff as a walking stick, half of her face and an arm covered in mending leaves.