Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, Jericho had never been so nervous before. The piano music floated around the room, each hit matched with her heartbeat. In fact, the music was mostly her heartbeat. The nerves made it beat rapidly. Tha-rump. Tha-rump. Tha-rump. Jericho took deep, silent breaths. These brief moments felt like an eternity.
The music crescendoed and she walked through the double doors. A red carpet sprawled along the floor for her to stride on. In all her glory, there she was. Jericho’s sweetheart. The one she was devoting the rest of her life to. A life she devoted gladly.
She stepped in time with the music, as if this was a dance. Her long black hair flowed down her shoulders. A veil delicately framed her face, afixed by an ornate comb. The detail on her dress glistened, and the ruffles of the skirt swished almost beautifully.
Then her love was beside her, and the tears that had been sat on the brim of her kids began to fall. She grasped her fiancée’s hands, and planted a soft kiss on the engagement ring Jericho had proposed with.
The way Guila smiled melted Jericho’s icy heart. In fact, everything about Guila melted Jericho’s icy heart. Her smile, her laugh, the soft-spoken way she spoke.
And then Guila said the two little words that made Jericho’s heart soar.
The market is full of life and bustling, and Amata's arm is full of a bag of ingredients for her dinner. She had stopped to peruse a table full of books when she hears Guila's greeting from somewhere off to the side. Looking and walking in that direction, she smiles politely and opens her mouth to say something before stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of Jericho at Guila's side: She's wearing a pink and white dress with black lacing, the ruffled skirt ending right above her knees. Lavender hair is pulled up into high ponytail with a a white string and bangs are pushed to the side of her face. When she spots Amata, her face turns red and she looks away, but Guila's kind smile turns into an impish grin.
"I- Jericho-" Amata stammers embarrassed.
Having stopped suddenly, Amata had the misfortune of stopping traffic and causing someone to rail into her from behind and knock her things out of her grasp.
"Watch it!" The man grumbles, veering around her after already knocking her stuff out of her arm.
Clearly flustered, Amata ignores Guila's chuckle and kneels down to begin picking up everything that had fallen out of the brown bag. She fails to notice the inconspicuous nudge that Guila gives Jericho in her direction. Jericho stumbles for a moment, glares at Guila, and then goes to Amata's aid.
"Sorry about her," Jericho grumbles apologetically and helps Amata gather all her things up. She glances up through her eyelashes. "Lady Amata, are you okay?"
Amata's face is bright pink, and she catches herself staring and quickly averts her gaze. "Oh- I-"
"Amata?"
Her face only turns a darker shade of red. She has never been unprepared for anything in her entire life, and yet right now she can't even look at Jericho without her mind going on the fritz and her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
Jericho looks utterly breathtaking.
Why couldn't Amata just say that?!
By the time her head starts to untangle the jumbled mess that is her thoughts, her things have been successfully picked up and returned to her arms.
"Okay, Jericho," Guila calls, two books tucked neatly under her arm after she paid for them. She smiles smugly at Amata's flustered look of exasperation. "I've gotten my books we can go now."
Jericho perks up and nods, her own face flushed. "Oh, right!"
Before Amata can finally blurt out the compliment tumbling around in her head, Jericho smiles and waves as she gets up and hurries after Guila. The last thing that Amata sees of Jericho is the flourish of the white and pink ruffled skirt as they turn a corner and vanish. Her face screws up into a look of frustration and she stands up, bag of food held firmly and muttered under her breath bitterly: "Stupid pink dress," before going on her own way home.
My (late) submission for @nntpride day five: blue/community
Summary: Gloxinia and Drole meet for the first time after they became members of the Ten Commandments. There is a lot they have to talk about
While following Zeldris down the hallway, Gloxinia wonders maybe for the hundredth time if it really was a smart idea. Probably he has been rushed. He wasn’t even in a good state of mind when the Demon has approached him, and he accepted his proposal without really thinking about it.
But he can’t go back, he knows that. He doesn’t think he would be able to look at humans without succumbing the urge to kill them, let alone fight side by side with them. But most of all, he can’t face his people, not now, not after he failed to protect them and the Forest, not after his sister died. And he can’t think about facing Drole, after what he did, blinded by rage. No, he has no more reasons to come back. He simply can’t do it.
Besides, it’s probably too late to have regrets, since he is in the Demon Realm by now and Zeldris already gave him his commandment. It’s not likely that the Executioner will simply let him go, he thinks with a bitter half-smile. He would probably be dead before making it outside this distorted kingdom.
Now the Demon wants him to meet the other Commandments, even though Gloxinia already told him that it’s not necessary. After all, they fought multiple times, and he knows every one of them good enough. However, Zeldris is his boss now, so here he is, traversing one of the enormous, crooked palaces that apparently belong to the Demon Realm, making him miss the Forest and its nature even more - will he ever be able to walk through those trees again,
It seems that they have finally reached their destination when Zeldris effortlessly spreads out an impressive door and Gloxinia catches sight of the other Commandments behind the thresholds. When he finally enters the room after Zeldris, he immediately feels all their eyes on him, some of them curious, the most filled with mistrust and rage.
Only then Zeldris stops. He crosses his arms across his chest and glares at his companions, his lips pressed in a hard line. “I suppose you all know Gloxinia as a member of Stigma. However, he abandoned his allies and he is now one of us. I expect you to -”
But Gloxinia has stopped listening to him after his first words. His eyes are fixed on the familiar, enormous figure standing in the back of the room, who is looking at him with an identical expression of disbelief. Gloxinia blinks, thinking that maybe he is really losing his mind and he is starting to hallucinate, but nothing change. Drole is really here, looking at him with his only eye wide and shockingly black.
When finally Zeldris dismisses the Commandments at least half an hour later, they all leave the room in the blink of an eye. Not Gloxinia, who spent all the time ignoring the glares from the Demons, his gaze always on Drole, losing half of Zeldris’ speech - probably not the best way to start his new life, but he doesn’t care. Not Drole, who seemed not able to look away from the Fairy if not for a few moments.
Only then, when they are finally alone, Gloxinia flies right in front of Drole, stopping just a few inches from his eyes. “What are you doing here?!” He almost yells, gesturing at the room.
“I could ask you the same,” Drole answers, low and slow as usual. But Gloxinia knows him better than anyone, and he immediately notices the tension hidden in his voice. “What are you doing Gloxinia? How could you become one of the Ten Commandments?” He stops, his eye widening and filling with fear. “Did Zeldris menaced to kill you too?”
Gloxinia furiously shakes his head. “You are one of the Commandments too now!“ He snarls, “What were you thinking, you-”
When Drole’s words really hit him, he can clearly feel his heart missing a beat. He looks at the Giant horrified, eyes wide, his lips moving without emitting a sound for a couple of seconds before he can finally speak. “What did you say? He tried to kill you?”
Drole looks away, joining a pair of his hands, and he lowers his head a bit, his hair hiding his expression from Gloxinia’s eyes. “He defeated me,” he says, almost whispering – it’s incredible that a man of his size can talk so low to be barely audible. “I … I couldn’t do anything against him. And then he offered me to become one of them or die. And I- I thought … I didn’t want to be killed by him, and …” he swallowed, still not looking at Gloxinia. “I’ve been a coward.”
All the Fairy King can do is silently stare at him, but he really would want to scream. Drole almost died. He almost died because Gloxinia left him alone, flying away to try saving his sister – it was useless, she was already dead, her body maimed and shattered and bloody in the arms of that human - without even thinking about the fact that he could have been in danger. He almost lost him too, and this thought is like a punch in his stomach, it makes it difficult to breathe and to think.
He probably spends too much time without answering, because then Drole finally glances at him, his eye full of guilt, and murmurs his name with worry. That’s what breaks him.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice cracking, “I wasn’t here to help you and you had to face him alone. You could have died, and it would be my fault.” He is shaking now, and he feels all the horrible things happened in the last hours falling on him altogether, his chest a mix of sorrow and hate for himself and for everyone else, both the Demons and Stigma, and for that long, destructive war no one seems able to stop.
“What? No, Gloxinia, don’t say that.” In a moment Drole’s hand is around him, enveloping him gently and stroking delicately his wings. “I should have been able to deal whit Zeldris alone, it’s my fault, not yours. Besides, you had to go, you had to protect the Forest.”
Gloxinia knows that Drole just wants to make him feel better, but his words are like thorns in his heart and he looks away, not wanting to face his friend.
“Gloxinia?” The Giant says cautiously, and it’s pretty clear that he has noticed that there is something wrong. “Gloxinia, what happened?”
Part of him doesn’t want Drole to know. He has killed so many members of Stigma in his rage, Giants includes, and for the first time, he feels ashamed. But Drole is looking at him with so much worry and trust that he just has to tell him, if only to finally pronounce the words that he had held in his heart for hours now.
“Gerheade died. The humans killed her.” And he has to stop talking for a second because he realizes he is saying it out loud for the first time and that makes all more real. In a moment, he is back there, in the Forest, the human holding his sister’s body and looking at him, a little, knowing smile on his lips as he knew something that Gloxinia would have never understood. It’s the rage, which fills him again like burning fire, to make him continue talking – and maybe also the way Drole is still looking at him, with shock and sympathy and regret; Gloxinia doesn’t want him to say anything, not before he hears about what he did after.
“I killed her murder. He was still holding her as a trophy.” He has to continue, he knows, and so he forces himself to say it. “She is dead because of me, so many are dead because of me, because the people I trust betrayed me. None of our allies was able to protect them, and I was so furious, so hurt, that I stopped thinking. Before I knew, I was massacring the members of Stigma, no matter their race, and I was wandering I don’t even know where, looking for someone else to kill, when Zeldris found me and propose me to become one of the Commandments. I barely thought about it before accepting his offer.” Then he falls silent. He feels almost empty, now, only a little fire of hate and fury keeps burning him from the inside.
Gloxinia expects Drole to retire his hand from him in horror and get away. He expects him to get angry, he expects him to yell at him and to feel repulsed. But surprisingly, Drole’s hand pulls him closer and when Gloxinia finally lifts his eyes, he sees that the Giant is looking at him and there is no trace of hate in his eye. Only compassion and sorrow.
“I’m sorry for Gerheade, Gloxinia. I can’t even think about how that hurt you,” he says slowly, and Gloxinia can hear that he means it.
It doesn’t make sense, not really. “Did you hear what I said?” He says bitterly, shaking his head. “I killed our allies, and I don’t even regret doing it. I decided to join the Demons, Drole! Our enemies!”
“Yes, I heard you, and I do understand. I … I can’t blame you for what you did, Gloxinia. Gerheade was so important to you. I don’t know what I would do at your place if someone so important to me – like you– has died.” He looks away, then mumbles, “Besides, I joined the Demons too. And I did it to save my life because I’m a coward-”
“Don’t you dare to say it,” Gloxinia stops him, finally closing the gap between them and laying his hand on Drole’s lip – not that this can really stop the Giant, the Fairy knows it, but he feels the need to touch him, to make him understand that Gloxinia doesn’t consider him a coward, and never will. “You did what you had to survive, and I’m grateful that you did it.”
Drole doesn’t answer immediately, and by the way he presses his lips together, the skin paling in a lighter shade of blue, Gloxinia knows that he’s still not really convinced, but at least he doesn’t try to respond. Instead, he reaches again Gloxinia with his hand and carefully raises him until their eyes are at the same level. “And you,” he says, “don’t ever think that I would hate you. I could never, no matter what.”
For the first time his sister’s death, the warmth in Gloxinia’s chest isn’t rage, but something softer and so strangely pleasant. He almost doesn’t believe it when he feels his lips curving into a little smirk. “You should be careful with your words. I could take you seriously.”
And when he sees Drole rolling his eye – but there is clearly a spark of amusement in it and his lips flinches a bit upwards – Gloxinia understands that they will be fine. Gerheade is still dead – and he knows that he will never heal from that wound, not even in a thousand years; they swapped side and now they fight side by side with their mortal enemies – and said enemies still don’t trust them, and maybe they never will. But at least, they have each other. It will be enough.
This was my first time doing one of these types of art, it’s actually a lot easier that I had originally anticipated.
Sometimes I find it hard to express certain thoughts or feelings, and it’s come to the point where only somber can be the word to describe those moods...
With Arthur’s future so uncertain, I felt it appropriate to show him almost lost in thought because of this.
Family was a concept that Amata failed to grasp. Through her own personal experience, family were those that you grew up with and shared a home with. How much closer could you get to someone that you've known your entire life? She came to Liones not expecting to create bonds with people that she wasn't raised with as a child.
"Ban, quit it already!" King whines as Ban drunkenly pulls him into a tight embrace and laughs.
"C'mooon!"
In another corner of the Boar's Hat Howzer, Gilthunder and Meliodas are challenging each other to a drinking contest; who can finish their tankard first?
Amata keeps to herself for the most part, making conversation with anyone who deigns to approach the quiet Holy Knight. She's always pleasant and polite though, a gentle smile plastered on her face.
She never quiet understood what family was other then what she grew up with in Camelot.
There's suddenly a commotion as Gilthunder gags, choking down the rest of his drink dead last with Meliodas in the lead finishing first. His coughing only intensifies when Howzer laughs and claps him on his back. As Meliodas goes to get them all another round of drinks, the boisterous man waves at Amata to grab her attention.
Meliodas sets another round of drinks on the table for them, and Howzer lifts a drink to her invitingly. "Wanna play a round?" He grins. "Jericho and Guila, why don't you give it a try?"
Guila smiles politely but shakes her head. "I'll have to refuse," the young woman declines, "But I would love to see if Amata or Jericho will win."
The two woman in question have a stare-off from across the bar. The peer pressure was on, and the two felt that neither of them could or wanted to back down. A slow grin stretches across their faces as they stare at each other before finally getting up to meet up at the table where Howzer and Gilthunder sat and waited for the two woman to join them. With the two drinks before them, they wait silently but with determination until Howzer tells them to go, and as soon as he does they start to drown their mugs filled to the brim with alcohol. As they both near the bottom of their glasses, Amata can feel droplets trickle down the corners of her mouth as she tries to down the drink faster then Jericho across from her. They slam their drinks down when they finish, panting softly under their breath and staring each other down, stupid grins on their faces.
"I think you guys need to do another round," Howzer begins with a playful smirk, and almost like magic more drinks materialize on the table, one for all of them. "It was pretty close before... What do you think, Gil?"
The pink-haired man nods somberly, a thoughtful expression on his face as he taps his chin. "I agree."
As Amata grips the mug handle in anticipation and smirks over at Jericho, who looks damned determined to win this and be the better drunk while Howzer and Gilthunder egg them on, she realizes that family isn't always the same thing.
