Craving 5! Tov 26! Stella 20! Hedja 15! Gildy 34! Ezra 9! Udoora 11! Nissy 13! Ebbie 14! Gent 32! Roona 8!
ok ive sat on this ask for like a year and im very sorry but i simply shall not finish it. im just posting what ive got in my drafts right now. under the cut bc it still comes out to a whopping 3.4k. in the full prose ones, the “thing you said” is bolded.
Craving: Things you said while pretending to be OK
“We got revenge, didn’t we? That ought to be satisfying.” - said to Manic on the first anniversary of Sirris’ death
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Tov: Things you said while lying about yourself
“Wanderlust, mostly. I’ll get back to my field of grass eventually” - said to Glade (before they fuck) on why he’s camping out in the middle of some forest
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Stella: Things you said when you missed what you could have had
She pushes the chair back from the desk with her hands, feet not able to quite reach the floor. She rattles the ink bottle, and it nearly spills all over the page and solves the problem for her. It doesn't manage to tip, though, so instead she slides her toes to the floor and starts to pace. Bedside table to window to washroom door to the weird empty corner, and back to the corner; she weaves her way around the inn room, trying to work up the courage to put pen to paper, or the common sense to never think of it again. At this point, honestly, she'd take either.
She's a criminal on the run, she had to remind herself, since it wasn't a reality she'd really grown up expecting to live. She killed things - people - for a living, and the tattoo now settled on her forearm made sure that other people who killed people for a living could pick her out of a crowd. Unfortunately, it meant most law enforcement would probably be able to pick her out too. Which is why swearing out loud after her lockpicks failed and alerting a passerby who called the city guard to drop her in a jail had been one of her worst moves ever. She kicked bed frame with lingering frustration.
The one pro of the situation: she got to share a cell with the sexiest drunk and disorderly she'd ever seen in her life.
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Craving was her name, or at least, that's what she'd told Stella. Even if it wasn't her real name, it was one hell of a power move to half-stumble, half-get shoved into the cell, hair all tangled and makeup starting to smudge, swear at the guards with an alcohol-thick tongue, turn to Stella, size her up by moonlight, pull out the sides of her full lace skirt and cursty, then hold out a thoroughly bejeweled hand to be kissed and announced, "Craving, pleasure."
And like. It worked.
Stella would've been forever indebted ot her for the fantasies that inspired alone, but as luck would have it, her surprise drunk goth harlot cell mate happened to also be incredibly useful in the jailbreak department.
"I'd figure you'll be wanting to get out of here right quick," she had said, suddenly much more coherent, eyes trained on Stella's wrist.
"What's it to you?" Stella responded, hedging her words in case the guards were much trickier than she thought.
"Oh c'mon, I'm not a snitch. You really think any one of these guards would want to be trapped in a cell with a serious criminal wearing a dress like this? No, I'm hoping you managed to hide a lockpick on you."
"Unfortunately, they got me while I was actively using my lockpick, and even their stupid asses did think to take it away before they stuck me in here."
"Well. Shit." Craving sighed, slumping along the wall across the cell. "I could try with one of these," she said, tugging a pin out of the dying hairdo, "but it'll take a while."
Stella shrugged. "Where else am I gonna go?"
Craving didn't answer, already fiddling with the pin between her hands, trying to unbend it to the proper angle to hopefully send them to freedom. It wasn't going particularly well. The drunkenness, while seemingly exaggerated in front of the guard (to avoid questions, maybe?), was still somewhat present, and that combined with the stiffness of the metal, and the billion rings she was making no move to take off, was not working in her favor. After watching her push and curse at it for a good few minutes, Stella walked across the cell and held her hand out.
"Lemme see it."
She'd taken the pin from Craving's hands, very aware of the eyes that trained on her fingers as they pressed and smoothed the metal, flattening out the kinks and forming the bends where they ought to be.
She looked into those eyes as she finished. "My name's Ester. Not that you asked."
"Ester. That's pretty."
"Short for Estella."
"Even prettier."
"You can call me either of those."
"Anyone ever call you Stella?"
"No. You think that'll work?"
"Well, I was hoping - oh, the pick. Yeah. I can work with it. I just need ten minutes of not being watched by guards."
Stella rolled her eyes, but there was something about the girl's blatantness that she was actually a little (very) into. "Wait a few hours then. They'll probably get tired around one and stop making the rounds as frequently."
Craving pouted.
Stella smirked. "And I would've thought you'd be pleased to be stuck in a tight space with me for several hours."
"Well, I can't say that I wouldn't be pleased," she said, then caught herself. "You were fishing for that."
"Yeah, I was."
Neither of them having more to say that wouldn't be redundant and run the mood down before they had a chance to do anything about it, they settled against opposite walls of the cell and sat in silence. Stella barely took her eyes off Craving for the following few hours, and Craving had hers on Stella about half that long. Once the moon had begun to dip back down, casting deeper shadows through the bars on the window, Stella pushed herself up off the floor, crossed the room, and held a hand out to her cellmate.
"It's probably late enough. We doing this?"
Craving took the hand and pulled herself up, visibly taken by the strength in the grip she hadn't been expecting to be there. "Absolutely, dear."
Even with a makeshift lockpick, getting out of the cell wasn't hard. The guards were even lazier than expected, the bolt was shoddy at best, and the skill Craving had with her fingers was Extremely Noteworthy.
Getting down to the store room where their belongings had been confiscated also wasn't too hard. They were good at stepping softly and blending into dark corners. And, these guards were <i>really<i> lazy.
No, the problem came when Stella was shoving her arrows back into her quiver, lock pick and coin pouch already slipped safely into her pockets, but Craving was still rummaging through drawers with increasing desperation.
"What is it?"
"One of my knives, I can't find it."
"You don't have enough?" Stella gestured to the six knives of various lengths she'd dumped out of a bin and was rifling through.
"No, no. I need this one. It's important." It's possible it was just the shadows in the room, but it almost looked like her lip was quivering.
"Alright," Stella sighed, trying to hide her impatience. "What's it look like."
"Antique, brass detailing on the hilt, floral carvings on the blade. About this long. Very sharp."
Stella nodded and split off towards the further corner of the rooms. Antique knife certainly would stand out. Maybe it'd been set aside as something that needed extra inspecting.
Or to be sold.
It looked like there was a box of assorted items shoved on top of one of the cabinets. Stella couldn't tell what exactly what was in there, but it looked like a very many shiny things. Possible that these guys liked to play auction house at the end of their shifts. It was high up, though, and she was going to have to climb on the counter to get up there. It'd be fine, though. She climbed on all sorts of weird places with extreme stealth all the time. She could get up there no problem.
Ok, slight problem. The box was overfilled, and pulling it off the shelf resulted in the bottom falling out, and at least nine different things made mostly of metal went clattering to the floor.
Stella leapt off the counter, grabbed for the most knife-shaped object in the pile, and started running for the door.
"This it?" she called as she neared Craving.
"What the fuck did you - yes - what the fuck did you do?"
"Badly stacked box, not my fault, let's go."
Craving had hiked up her skirt with one hand, reached for Stella's with the other, and taken off running.
It was the most inexplicable kind of joy, sprinting through the corridors at top speed, slamming open cell doors behind them to trip up some guards, firing a few arrows and chucking a handful of knives when they had the chance, slipping out in the chill of the night and rushing down dark alleys to make sure they weren't followed.
And it was a very predictable kind of intimacy, pressed up side by side against a brick wall with the flush of adrenaline still in their cheeks, breath still heavy in their chests, starlight still flickering in the sky across their curled up lips, almost like a beacon. They were leaning in before they even had the chance to acknowledge their success.
"You know, I wouldn't do this for just any girl who broke me out of prison," Stella said as she pulled back to re-situate herself better for the height difference.
"Really? I would."
Stella snorted, tossing her head back, and Craving's lips were on her neck before she could finish her laugh, and she was back to focusing on much more pressing matters than one-liners.
"I have an inn room, you know," she managed to get out eventually, when Craving had to stop for a moment to pull at the strings keeping her dress shut in very complicated knots.
"So do I, but there's something fun about being out here." She reached out to grab Stella's chin with a hand, rings still on (she kept two fingers jewelry-free, apparently, because that's "all she needs"). She grinned for a moment, studying the face below her. "For a girl who's not named Stella, you really are something else in the starlight."
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It was a fantastic night, Stella isn't denying that. She isn't ashamed to admit she's thought of that tiefling on a fairly regular basis when she had inn rooms to herself.
No, the issue is that the criminal underbelly is a surprisingly small world, and she's run Craving twice more since then, in seedy bars where they give you jobs in the back storeroom.
See, she'd have been more than content to look back on that once in a lifetime ride fondly until the day she died or found something better. But having it become a twice in a lifetime experience made it press on the back of her mind even in the daylight, and having it become thrice in a lifetime meant that the coincidences were running very thin, and now she actually has to make a decision about the future resting in her hands if she wants it to continue.
Which she ............................. does?
She thinks she does. She thinks she doesn't want it to not. Which by all logic, should mean that she does.
But saying that she really, truly, officially, does - that's a commitment. That's a ledge she's walking out on trusting Craving to catch her if she starts to fall, and frankly, she doesn't think Craving would want to.
Like, she likes to think that she would. She likes to think that she'd reach out with those hands full of rings if she thought she was going to lose Stella forever. She likes to think that they'd reach out right as she started teetering, maybe not a moment before, but surely the moment her feet started to slip. That they'd wrap around her hips, hard, only a little controlling, like Stella doesn't get to just fall on their watch. And that they'd tug her back, and flip her around the ledge, and push her down, slow, starting to trail up her shirt just a little, and -
For fuck's sake. She's writing the letter.
------------- Rose-colored princess,
I know very well I'm only feeding your ego by saying this, but you're too damn fun to ignore. I'm in Paustor on a job for the next few weeks. Have a room in the kind of bar you'd expect me to be in, there's only one. If you find yourself wandering up this way, come buy me a drink for the night. I'll owe you for the night after that.
Starlight girl
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Hed'ja: Things you said because you'd made a promise
“I spoke with him just yesterday, child. Everything is as it should be. If he did not answer your prayer, it is only because you do not need his guidance to walk your path.” - said to a questioning follower of Avachel shortly after they discovered his corruption, the promise in question being their oath to the clergy to uphold Avachel as a force of good.
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Gildy: Things you said when you thought you were in the right i got no fucking clue im sorry bro
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Ezra: Things you said while lying to yourself .
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Udoora: Things you said to get out of trouble uhm.
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Nissy: Things you said that were important to you
“Let’s just go. Leave. I never wanted this legacy anyways, but I do want you.” - to Mavy, proposing that they elope
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Ebbie: Things you said because you thought it'd be your last chance to say them
"Hey Kenny?" he whispers into the dark, glee coming equally from the dawning realization that they did it, they saved the forest, and from the childish excitement of being the last two awake, "I'm glad you didn't turn out to be evil.
“I mean, I didnt ever really think you were going to, but I think some other people thought you might've, and I'm really glad you didn't. I always thought you should have the staff, from the first we heard about it. Just to prove them wrong. And I don't know what exactly happened with Odwald and Ferriana, but I believe you that she took him down, and I guess he's dead now which ... I don't know what that means for me? Since he might've maybe been controlling my life force? I guess we'll find out?
“But uh. Yeah. I know we had a deal goin' on about watching each other's backs and I mean, I'll still look out for you as long as we're around each other but I guess I'm just tryin' to say I'm happy for you that I probably don't have anything to worry about."
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Gent: Things you wouldn't have said if it was dark out
“What, Liya?” Gent calls up, hands planted on the staircase as he leans into it, not wanting to actually climb above deck. “This better be important!”
He’s still overall ribbing with his crewmate, but the annoyance in his voice can’t go entirely unnoticed. He’d spent most of the night awake on the deck, triangulating the location of the ship after being blown off-course by a storm, and setting a new course to get them back on track. After a few measly hours of sleep, he’d been called up for his normal duties, and was just now laying down for a nap on his afternoon break. That is, until Syd had come banging on the cabin door, saying Liya was yelling for him on the bow.
“It’s about your guest Gent, I would assume you consider that important?” Aliya yells back. The panic skirting beneath her words set Gent’s heart plummeting.
He wastes no time in sprinting up the stairs, skipping every few steps in an attempt to arrive on the deck a moment sooner.
“Phirie?” He says, head darting around for any sign of the new girl, “Where is she, what’s wrong, I haven’t seen her all day, is she -”
“No one else had either,” Aliya cuts him off, leaning over the side of the crow’s nest to speak, “until I came up here to run lookout, and I found her passed out on the floor.”
“Heat stroke,” Syd adds, having followed Gent up the stairs.
“Shit. Shit!” He cranes his head up towards Aliya. “Do you have Feather Fall? Can you just throw her down?”
“No, I was hoping you did.”
“Dammit, I don’t, not today. Fuck. Well,” he says, and strides across the deck to grab a length of loose rope. “She’s more my responsibility than anyone else’s, I’ll bring her down the old fashioned way.”
“Gent, we can just ask -”
“I’m coming up, Liya.”
Aliya rolls her eyes, but ducks back behind the wall of the nest and starts trying to sit Phirie up. Within two minutes, Gent’s reached the base of the crows nest and is hooking his arms around the ropes to stabilize as best he can.
“Phirie, are you conscious?” he asks.
“Yeah, ‘m co - c -comsiss,” Phirie stammers back, seemingly bewildered at the feeling of being sitting.
“You feel up to a piggy back ride to somewhere cooler?”
“Okay!” she says, grin seeming to straggle its way across her lips, but even the act of crawling a few feet towards Gent has her collapsing under her own weight.
Gent tries to guide her onto his back, drawing her hands around his neck, then catching her thigh with his free hand. “Now, you hold on tight, alright?”
“Like ... opossums,” Phirie adds spacily.
“Uh. Sure. Like opossums,” he assures her. “Liya, can you help with the rope please?”
Within another minute, a few hasty knots have been tied to keep Phirie on Gent’s back, even if her arm strength fails her. Gent begins the descent down, balancing on the ropes much trickier with the weight of a person on his back, but the muscle memory enough to get them safely to the bottom.
He begins walking below decks, not even bothering to untie Phirie before he gets her out of the shade. He walks them to the cabins, and only then does he loose the knots, turning so that Phirie can slide from his back onto the bed as easily as possible.
“You just lie down here, alright? I’ll get you some water in a second, and some salted meats. Hopefully that’ll do you some good. Seems you’re not as used to the sun on the sea as the rest of us.”
Phirie tries to shift on the bed, and ends up groaning from nausea or dizziness or some combination of the two.
“I’m sorry it got you like this,” Gent says. “I would’ve warned you if I’d thought about it. Been cooped up in the Zemni Fields your whole life, no wonder sunshine’s a new concept for you.”
“I feel ....... bad.”
“I know. You can take it up with Pelor once we’ve gotten your temperature back down.”
With that, he slips out the door and breaks for the galley. He’s back with a jug of water and a tray of jerky as soon as he can. He sets it on the floor by the bed, trying to place it so Phirie has to move as little as possible to get to it.
He’s never really considered himself much of a doter, but he does sit at the foot of the bed and watch to make sure she drinks the water, well-paced enough to not get sick, and nibbles on the jerky without it coming back up. Once some composure’s returned to her body, and the flush has faded slightly from her cheeks, she settles in for a nap. Only then does Gent hoist himself off the bed, to get back to his duties, and he still lingers at the door to make sure she’s not stirring, before shutting the door and walking back into the welcoming - at least to him - warmth of the sun on the waves.
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Roona: Things you said that you immediately regretted
“I mean, it was ugly anyways, so. Who cares?” - said to an angry stranger who got her dress sliced on accident during a far too up close and personal swords act