1. Aloth Corfiser (her boyfriend and one of her best friends, with whom she has a mutual pact of “I would punch your enemies in the face”)
2. Eder Teylecg (her other best friend and tired gossip buddy, always down for some shenanigans)
3. Devil of Caroc (they’re stab buddies, enough said)
4. Eld Engrim (her boatswain, promoted after the crash bc I said so f*ck the mechanics; she just likes him a lot and would die for him)
5. Cosmo (her giant miniature space piglet)
Send me a ⭐️ and an OC, and I’ll tell you 5 people they love.
In response to @pillarspromptsweekly prompt #0012.
Title: Interpretation is Relative
Summary: Saying that this all started with Dyrdhára overreacting was an understatement. She just didn’t think her friends would go this far to expose a ridiculous crush, and she really didn’t think they would have gotten said crush involved. But here they were.
Warnings: passing mention of childhood abuse
Notes: Alright, one more prompt fill before I go back to classes. It’s a long one...5.7k is the longest yet, I think. Anyways, this idea is something I’ve been working on with significant encouragement and contribution from @bugqueenagitha, to whom Dyrdhára belongs and who provided the art piece below. Dyrdhára’s name is pronounced “deerd-THAUW-rah,” and she’s more or less a cross between Agitha’s Watcher Falon and my Watcher Tai Lon, both of whom are pale elves who romanced Aloth. Dyrdhára is far more impulsive than both of them combined, though.
Dyrdhára should have known. She should have seen it coming. This was stupid and completely avoidable, and she should have known that her friends were up to something as soon as she arrived home and saw all of them (minus Maneha and Pallegina) piled in her living room.
Durance was there, too. Even Grieving Mother had showed up. She really didn’t know how they managed those two, but she was kicking herself now for not recognizing their presence as the first of several red flags.
The various occupants of Maros Heights’s fifth floor, dubbed Caed Nua by some previous tenant, were close indeed, but this was still weird.
Another was when Aloth arrived after her, but she hadn’t invited him. She thought he had some exam to study for and wasn’t going to be around that day; otherwise they would have walked home together and stopped for coffee on the way. It stung a little that apparently Aloth hadn’t been that busy, having answered somebody else’s invitation. To her apartment. At the time, she’d been too confused (offended) to realize just how odd it was.
Dyrdhára should have known.
Instead of doing the smart thing and ducking out to avoid the sheer strangeness, she had stayed to ask questions. And instead of getting answers, all she got was casually and almost apologetically picked up by Edér and shoved into her own front closet. Kana dropped Aloth in after her, and somebody else shut the doors on them. Dyrdhára heard the lock click and cursed herself for having dropped her bag with all her tools by the door, only to then realize that there were no handles on this side, anyway. Even someone as talented as she was couldn’t pick a lock that wasn’t there.
After making sure Aloth hadn’t landed on anything particularly hard or sharp (she didn’t think there was anything in this closet besides some coats, a picnic basket, and cleaning supplies, but just in case…), she turned to the door and slammed both fists into it with a thud that would have made thunder proud. “What are you guys doing?” she demanded. “What the hell?!”
It was Edér’s voice that answered her, sounding awfully close, like he was leaning up against the doors as well. “You can come out when you learn to kiss each other,” he said. She could hear the smile on his face and it sparked something dangerous.
“What?”
Dyrdhára’s screech hit a pitch she was positive she couldn’t normally make, but so did Aloth’s as they ended up yelling in unison, so she felt moderately better about it. At least they had both been blindsided by this. But that small bit of comfort didn’t stop the explosion in her chest from smoldering, choking any possibility of this being brushed off as some kind of joke. Edér knew how insane her feelings were and had sworn not to tell anyone after she had accidentally let them slip a month ago.
Sagani had been there, too, supervising the study-slash-hang-out session to give Itumaak a change of scenery. It had been normal, business-as-usual, until Dyrdhára decided that reading yet another moral shakedown of Pandgram’s career sounded about as appealing as dragging her face across concrete and picked up her phone, instead. She hadn’t meant to get distracted by Instagram, but it wasn’t her fault that she had five notifications and felt compelled to clear them. And that was all it was, until suddenly she was three weeks deep into Aloth’s Instagram feed and accidentally liking one of his selfies. One that wasn’t even that cute—or impressive in any way except for how impressively messy his hair was—and was, again, from three weeks ago.
Art by Miles
The noise that had escaped from her throat as she stared down at the electronic heart was so shrill that it drew Itumaak and Edér’s attention, and suddenly they were both looking over her shoulder and into the utterly mortifying mistake in her hands.
Edér snorted. “If you’re that desperate to see Aloth’s face, ‘Dhára, I’ll just text him to come over,” he said, and Dyrdhára flinched so hard she dropped her phone.
Well. “Dropped” was an understatement. It was more like she flung the phone across the room. Towards the wall with a window. Which had been open.
No one breathed for a long minute. Sagani had apparently seen the whole thing, as she was now looking up from her own phone and shifting her attention slowly between Dyrdhára and the window. Edér was uncharacteristically still behind her. And there was a furious warmth flooding Dyrdhára’s cheeks that she couldn’t even pretend to hide. She wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. Part of her wanted to follow her phone out the window just to get away from the whole thing.
“That’s not gonna undo the like, Watcher,” Edér said at last, like her phone having fallen five stories was a minor inconvenience.
She hunched forwards and threw her face into her hands. “Shut up!” she snapped, tumbling off the couch and onto the floor.
Sagani sighed loudly. “Well, the phone is replaceable,” she said, “and yours was getting pretty old, anyways, I s’pose. But I don’t think warranty’s going to cover it if that happens again, so, ah, go talk to him, maybe?”
“I will explode,” Dyrdhára mumbled into her arms. She couldn’t think anymore; her brain was entirely fried. She’d barely had the common sense to swear Edér and Sagani to secrecy because her entire life might spontaneously disintegrate if this ever got out.
But now, with her and Aloth locked in a literal closet together, it seemed like not only was every one of her friends in on her secret, but that they wanted Aloth in on it, too. There were searing hot tears clawing desperately to escape her eyes. She struggled just to take a breath that didn’t catch on the ragged edges of the metaphorical knife in her back.
“Edér,” said Kana, somewhere outside, “that was a little…”
“Direct?” Edér offered helpfully. Cruel? Dyrdhára’s mind corrected.
“Er, yes,” said Kana.
“Oh, please,” rumbled the grating voice that could only ever belong to the room’s self-proclaimed righteous man. Durance chuckled dully. “If we’d left them to their own devices, they’d have been sitting around like dumb fawns, as far apart as possible, and avoiding eye contact for hours. It was necessary.”
Dyrdhára leaned her forehead against the doors as though pushing her full body weight against Edér’s was going to help anything. But it did allow her to hear a soft, muted chime through the wood. The sound ordinarily soothed her, but now seemed to just twist the knife as she realized Grieving Mother was involved, too. "The heart may want what it wants,” she was saying, “but only the mind can give it a voice. And these two..." She trailed off with a sigh, and it felt a lot like she was blowing salty air into Dyrdhára’s wound.
“Wait, when’d you get here?” she heard Edér ask. And somewhere else in the room, Sagani was muttering something about Kallu and their first meeting, but it was like Dyrdhára was suddenly underwater. The voices drifted, so far away, and her body was both impossibly heavy and somehow weightless at the same time. She stumbled back from the door until her back hit the wall, and she slid down it to wrap her arms around her knees.
“I don’t—I don’t understand,” said Aloth, and Dyrdhára nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized she had entirely forgotten him in her anger. She had ended up mirroring his position, though Aloth was resting his arms on top of his knees and staring at her rather than the floor. His cheeks were also full of color, and Dyrdhára felt pleasantly validated to know she wasn’t the only one who was angry.
“Are you okay?” she asked. Her voice came out rough and airy and she winced, trying to clear her throat.
Aloth hesitated for a moment, looking around as though evaluating the closet. “Yes,” he said at last. “Relatively speaking. It’s not the worst closet I’ve ever been locked in.”
Dyrdhára raised an eyebrow. “Figurative closet, or…?”
Stretching his legs out with a sigh, Aloth answered, “Well, there was one of those, too, for a while, but, ah… both?” The basket in the corner was suddenly and apparently fascinating. Dyrdhára couldn’t quite see Aloth’s eyes, couldn’t see if he was as close to tears as she had been, but the thin, soft voice he used twisted something in her chest.
She leaned forward and pulled herself up, beginning once again to beat against the doors of the closet. “Seriously, this isn’t funny, you guys. Let us out!” she yelled, punctuating each word with a series of rattling knocks.
Maybe someone on the other floors would file a noise complaint and get them out of this.
A snicker grated against her ears like the sound of a woodpecker through the door. Dyrdhára steeled herself. Hiravias, from somewhere in the room, called out, “It’s not the door you should be banging!”
The breath in Dyrdhára’s lungs drained in an instant, and in the rush of anger that flooded her body in its wake, she nearly didn’t hear anything but her own pulse. But she did—a wet hacking sound bounced off the walls of the closet from behind her. Dyrdhára turned to see Aloth with a hand on his chest, recovering from having literally choked in some combination of shock and disgust.
It made sense, Dyrdhára told herself. Aloth wasn’t interested in her that way, so it was no wonder he was put off by the idea. But it still hurt to have proof, no matter how irrational her own feelings were. Dyrdhára was never one to ignore her heart, but she also didn’t want to feel any more, not like this.
She was about to say something else, possibly try appealing to Sagani or Grieving Mother (the reasonable ones), when there was a rush of movement at her side. A hand smacked into the wood next to her shoulder as Aloth, cheeks a brilliant shade of red and eyes glinting so blue it could kill a man, joined her in shouting at their friends.
“Soon as ah git ma hands on ma book, Hiravias, yer a deid mon!” cried Iselmyr, and Dyrdhára couldn’t help but agree.
“I think you’re the one who’d end up dead,” Hiravias said. “But at least this way, you’ll die as a man and not a pile of sexual tension.”
“Fye, ye lettle—” Iselmyr jerked one foot into the door and it shook at the impact. Dyrdhára couldn’t quite suppress a hiss in sympathy for Aloth’s toes when he came back to consciousness.
Outside, she could hear Zahua adding something about suffering bringing clarity to the situation, but his voice was soft with amusement or indifference. It was hard to hear. Regardless, it didn’t make anything better. As Dyrdhára watched Iselmyr back away from the door to throw another punch at it (one that was likely to hurt Aloth more than the door), she shook her head frantically, hoping Iselmyr might, for once, try to calm down.
Calm wasn’t in Dyrdhára’s nature, either. More than anything, she wished she had her knives and that Aloth had his spells and that there was a way to just…brute force their way out and forget this ever happened. The cost of burning or hacking up the door was one she’d pay gladly to get out of here. But letting Aloth get hurt because Iselmyr had the idea to punch the door down? Definitely not worth it.
Thankfully, she didn’t need her weapons or lockpicks to flash-step, and so with a shrill demand of, “Guys, please!” Dyrdhára inserted herself between Iselmyr and the door, hands up over her face to herself.
“Oh—ah!” Aloth, not Iselmyr, stuttered, and the punch Dyrdhára expected to feel never came. Instead, she watched from between her arms as Aloth tried to regain his balance. Either Iselmyr had pulled back on her own or Aloth had broken through. Either way, it was a good sign, at least, that Iselmyr hadn’t seen her as more of a threat, even given what their friends were implying with this whole stunt.
After several seconds of silence, Kana’s voice broke through. “I don’t think this is going how we planned,” he said slowly. There was an air of childish disappointment in his words, but Dyrdhára’s pulse was still racing in her ears and she couldn’t make much sense of it.
“Really?” said Sagani. “What tipped you off?”
“We’re doing our best!” Hiravias.
“I didn’t count on them being quite this dumb.” Devil. So, she was there, too. Probably the one who checked the closet for locks.
Dyrdhára sighed and rubbed her temples. In front of her, Aloth had backed away and was slowly sinking to the ground again. He was shivering, she noticed, and she was sorely tempted to pull down one of her heavy coats and give it to him. But Aloth’s eyes were wrenched shut and his lip was held so tightly between teeth that it was as virtually colorless as her own skin—Dyrdhára recognized the signs of an Iselmyr debate when she saw one. A coat wouldn’t help with that.
“No, she won’t,” Aloth muttered, curling farther into himself as though he could physically contain Iselmyr. “This isn’t the manor, don’t—”
The knife in Dyrdhára’s back suddenly lanced completely through her body, tearing at her heart as it went. She—again—she should have known what Aloth meant before about literal closets. Of course, this was something his father thought was okay. Of course, while she was stuck in her own head and worried about being embarrassed, he was fighting against flashbacks and fear and also the second voice in his soul. As a cherry on top, Iselmyr seemed to be starting to perceive Dyrdhára as a threat, and, gods, was that the last thing she wanted. The three of them had started to understand each other, and now it was all falling apart.
(“Bah! It’ll end up being about the sex anyway.”)
None of the three them were okay, but for Aloth and Iselmyr…it was so much worse.
And even though Dyrdhára’s heart was flopping on the ground like a dead fish, though there was a gaping emotional hole in her back, and though her palms stung from their first two assaults on the closet…
(“Just give it time—”)
(“They’ve had time!”)
Even though she knew she didn’t have the will to use a filter anymore, Dyrdhára backed up to the closet’s rear wall, shoved her clothes out of the way, and charged with her full body into the doors.
Her shoulder impacted with a resounding thud, and the wood gave way, splintering like a sandcastle as the flimsy lock snapped in two. A few stray pieces of debris rained softly onto the carpet, and the un-shoulder-checked door creaked mournfully, hinges straining to rebound from the violent swing open.
Never, not even during final presentations, had Dyrdhára felt more eyes so completely and frighteningly focused on her. No one moved or made a sound, save for her. Her shoulders rose and fell almost ferally as she struggled for enough breath to explain herself. To scream and scold and shout something that would make them understand how utterly not okay any of this was—
“Yes,” she hissed. It was barely more than a whisper of breath. Her hands curled into her fists as she tried again. Riding the waves of fury and heartbreak, her voice grew with every word until she and her words were just tumbling in free-fall. “Yes, okay, yes, I’ve got a fucking crush on Aloth! And Iselmyr, too, if it’s fucking honesty hour, because I like both of them! I like Aloth’s carefulness, and the way he pays attention to the tiniest things, and—” she glared at Edér “—his tired selfies and ridiculously neat fucking notetaking! And I like Iselmyr because she’s passionate and protective and has a really cool accent!”
In the back of the crowd, Hiravias’s head twitched in the very beginnings of a satisfied nod. Dyrdhára zeroed on him faster than a hawk, crying, “But it’s none of your guys’ business! It never was! And none of it matters anyway because they don’t like me back!”
There were tears in her eyes, on her cheeks, soaking into the fabric of her shirt, and Dyrdhára couldn’t stay still any more. So she ran, yanking the door open with enough force that it might have wrenched her shoulder and slamming it behind her. The sound echoed in her mind as she ran past the elevators and to the stairs, legs on autopilot as she rocketed towards the ground floor. It faded to white noise as it occurred to Dyrdhára that if she hesitated for even one step, she would fall, because she didn’t have the energy to tell her legs how to run. It buzzed in her head as she stormed out of the building and to the end of the block. It pulsed in her veins as she realized that her arm was bloody, peppered with tiny splinters and flecks of off-white paint.
It was horribly silent as she reached the park four streets down, climbed onto a bench, and cried into what was left of her once-expensive satin shirt.
She should have known better. She should have known.
Dyrdhára wasn’t usually the kind of person to give a fuck if strangers knew how she was feeling, but she was starting to draw stares that were a little too hair-raising to be well-intentioned. Also, her throat hurt, her head ached, and her stomach felt like a black hole. Dyrdhára figured it was time she gathered herself up and began the slow walk home. She’d taken care of some of the damage to her arm, but even her deft fingers couldn’t get all the splinters out on their own, and so every twitch of muscle in her right shoulder as she walked stung like a mother. Plus, she had also barreled said shoulder into a locked door and used it to slam another behind her.
Any thoughts of maybe going to get it looked at were snuffed out as soon as she stepped into the lobby of Maros Heights. Steward’s desk was displaying her WILL RETURN sign, so Dyrdhára had expected it would be empty. Instead, she was greeted by Edér scrambling to his feet from a seat one of the (very uncomfortable) lobby couches. A scowl commandeered her features.
“Watcher—” Edér started, then winced, presumably in response to the way Dyrdhára kept walking as though he’d said nothing. “’Dhára, I’m real sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go like that. I just thought that maybe if you two—”
“Three,” Dyrdhára snapped before she could stop herself, and then immediately sighed. Now that she’d said something, there was a conversation happening, and she was part of it. Bad move. Get out. Abort. “Glad to know that not only do my secrets mean nothing to you, you also just don’t hear me half the time.” Her voice was like sandpaper.
“I didn’t tell them!” Edér said, throwing his hands up. “About the selfie and the phone thing, I mean. I didn’t say anything to nobody. ‘Dhára, I swear, I didn’t do that. Sagani and I’re still the only ones who know.”
Dyrdhára put one hand on her hip. “So it’s just a coincidence that literally everyone except Maneha and Pallegina decided to help you fuck me over and scare the shit out of Aloth,” she said skeptically. “Sure.”
“Yes,” Edér said with a trace of relief. Dyrdhára raised an eyebrow and he backpedaled. “Well, I mean, no, it wasn’t a coincidence. We just all were talking the other day about Iselmyr keeps, uh, checking you out every time you turn around. And then Sagani said it wasn’t just Iselmyr, and Hiravias said he was sick and tired of you both pretending that catchin’ feelings is like catchin’ the plague, and it just… it just sort of went from there.”
“Oh.” A few breaths filled the silence. “I mean you’re all delusional, and it sure as hell doesn’t make manhandling Aloth into a locked closet okay—”
“We apologized to him, too, I promise.”
“But it’s good to know you didn’t stab me in the back,” Dyrdhára finished. “More just kind of… sabotaged my friendship with my favorite people and made me think you stabbed me in the back.”
Edér rubbed his neck. “We didn’t mean to! I really am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make either of you cry.”
Dyrdhára’s breath hitched at the words—she didn’t want to think about how upset Aloth must have been, but it wasn’t like there was anything she could’ve done to make it better. Even though it hurt to have proof of how hurt Aloth was, and a part of Dyrdhára wanted to shout some more, she was exhausted. Everything hurt. So instead, she just sighed and said, “Okay.”
It wasn’t forgiveness, yet. But Edér still sagged with relief.
Suddenly, he straightened back up, one hand reaching out. “Oh, shit, your…”
Following his gaze down to her arm, Dyrdhára bit her lip. “Yeah, I’m gonna need my first aid stuff,” she said.
“Let me take care of it,” Edér offered, and his blue eyes shimmered like a puppy’s. “Please?”
Dyrdhára nodded and followed him towards the elevators. Through the whole ride and then the walk to his door, Edér seemed to shift his hands and stance constantly, as though he couldn’t quite figure out how to just stand. It drew a small smile onto Dyrdhára’s lips. She’d reassure him later, when there wasn’t so much smoke lingering inside her from the anger.
Edér’s hands were big and not exactly what Dyrdhára would call graceful, but as she sat on his kitchen table and let him work at her arm with a pair of tweezers, he showed a surprising amount of dexterity. The splinters, even the ones that had nearly disappeared under her skin, were gone in just shy of twenty minutes. Her arm was washed in alcohol and bandaged in another four, and she was out the door after knocking her friend (gently) upside the head in a grand total of twenty-five.
As she walked down the hallway to her own apartment, though, the tiny sprouts of a better mood gradually wilted as she became aware of someone else inside. Even before she unlocked and cracked the door enough to hear some shuffling, she knew to expect company in the form of the person she least wanted to see right now.
Dyrdhára was surprised to see that the mess of wood near her front door had been cleaned. The door she had broken was taped up and was leaning against its frame in an approximation of its proper function. There was a folded note left on her couch with “SORRY” scrawled on the front, and as Dyrdhára peeked at her phone, she saw she had several messages unread.
She didn’t have much time to dwell on them, however, when Aloth stepped around the corner, smoothing down his sweater. He saw her and immediately froze, fingers bunching in the soft fabric near his waist.
“I didn’t think you’d stick around,” Dyrdhára admitted after a moment, looking away.
Aloth coughed slightly. “Yes, well, it’s been brought to my attention that we might…need to talk about some things,” he said, clasping his hands together and wringing them absently.
A heaviness set in, and Dyrdhára took a deep breath to keep herself afloat before moving to perch on the arm of the couch. “Right,” she said at last, drumming her fingers against the fake leather. “Look…” I’m sorry? She wasn’t. We can still be friends? Not without a horrible helping of awkwardness. I just said it to make them stop? As cruel as it was untrue.
Nothing felt right, and the thought trailed off. Aloth redirected it. “Sagani said you thought I’d been avoiding you because you liked one of my old selfies,” he said. It was true, but Dyrdhára didn’t know what to say, so instead she just glanced up to show she heard him. Aloth wasn’t looking at her, though; his eyes were fixed on the closet, churning through emotions with dizzying fierceness. “I wasn’t.”
“Really.” Dyrdhára was pretty sure that purposefully making sure he was busy or studying every time their friends did anything and avoiding his usual routes on campus so they wouldn’t cross paths counted as “avoidance,” but who was she to judge?
Aloth sighed and reached up to run his fingers through the ends of his hair that weren’t held back. “That is, I was avoiding you,” he said quickly, “but it wasn’t because you made me uncomfortable! It was because I was afraid I might make you uncomfortable.”
Dyrdhára blinked. “What?”
“When you liked the picture, I thought you were making fun of me,” Aloth said, and Dyrdhára sat up straighter, leaning forwards to correct him so quickly she nearly lost her balance. Aloth didn’t give her the chance to speak. “I looked awful. It was a ridiculous photo that I only took to satisfy Kana so we could get back to studying—” he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “I didn’t—I don’t understand how you could possibly have thought the picture worth liking except as a joke. And it just reminded me that the way I felt about you was ridiculous, and I needed some time to myself to…get those feelings under control.”
Somewhere in his speech, the words stopped holding coherent meaning for Dyrdhára as she could only focus on the beginning, on the fact that Aloth was too self-conscious to be weirded out by what happened. “I wasn’t making fun of you,” she said quickly, getting back to her feet as though standing properly might drive the point home.
“I know that now,” Aloth said, but Dyrdhára still noticed the way he relaxed just slightly after hearing her. He bit his lip and sighed again, glancing at the closet. “And I’m sorry about…all of this.”
Dyrdhára reached out with both hands and squeezed Aloth’s arms in reassurance, trying very hard not to let her thoughts linger on how warm and strong he was under her grip. “None of that was your fault,” she said, spinning them so she was between the closet doors and Aloth.
“If I hadn’t been so obvious, maybe they would have left us—you—alone—”
“No,” Dyrdhára said, shaking her head. “Nope. Don’t you dare try and blame yourself, Aloth, because that mess was all on them. You didn’t do anything to deserve that.”
“Aye, an’ ah’ll be sure th’ lad hears it from me, too,” said Iselmyr, rolling her eyes. Dyrdhára loosened her hold, just in case, since she knew how Iselmyr was with anyone trying to touch Aloth, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, Iselmyr pinned her gaze on Dyrdhára’s face, focusing with a seriousness that made her heart skip a beat. “But ah did fair aboot hit ye, Watcher, an’ ye didna deserve tha’.”
“You were just trying to protect him,” Dyrdhára said. “I understand. I just thought that between the two of us, I was the one who could handle more rounds with the door.”
She tried for a smile, but her face froze halfway through when a hand landed on her own arm. It wasn’t clear whether Aloth or Iselmyr was the one resting their fingers just below the bandages, but their eyes were clear and bright concern and guilt.
It was Aloth who spoke. “Does it hurt?” he asked. His voice was nearly a whisper, seemingly determined to be as delicate as his hand, and Dyrdhára glanced up to realize he had leaned closer than before.
“It’s al—it’s fine,” she said, words suddenly getting stuck on her tongue. “Edér was waiting for me when I came back. He was—he fixed me up and, um, apologized…” The train of thought seemed to dissolve on her lips, scattering into something that no longer made any sense, and Dyrdhára just gave up on it. Instead she focused on the lines of Aloth’s face, scrunched in concentration as his thumb gently traced the edge of her bandage. She had never seen him get this close to one of their friends willingly, except when they all decided it was a good idea to pile into one person’s living room for some reason or another.
But he was here, in front of her, close enough that she could feel the air between them growing steadily warmer, shifting with each breath they took. Dyrdhára could press her forehead into his chest if she only took one more step. Her skin buzzed with the tension, and she could feel her heart beating in her fingertips, but it wasn’t bad. She was pleasantly warm.
Dyrdhára was very aware of the fact that she was still holding Aloth with both hands, something just shy of a hug, as she cleared her throat and asked, “Who’s there right now?”
“Both of us,” Aloth said, and when he looked Dyrdhára in the eye, she saw wildfires burning in the blue depths that made her believe it.
She nodded. “So, um… Look, I know that I can be pretty dumb sometimes, so tell me if I’ve got this all wrong,” she said, leaning forwards as she noticed that Aloth’s cheeks looked as flushed as hers felt. “But, I mean, you heard what I said…earlier…and you’re still here and trying to comfort me and holding me, and I just—I’d really like to kiss you.”
Aloth froze, but there was a smile on his lips that Iselmyr rearranged into a grin. “Good,” she said, and tugged Dyrdhára forward.
Her last step rolled her weight onto her toes as she lifted herself into the kiss, free hand coming up to catch the side of Aloth’s neck for balance. His lips were rough, likely from being bitten, but they were warm and gentle, and she was being held like neither Aloth or Iselmyr could dream of being anywhere else.
With her eyes closed, Dyrdhára had to rely on her sixth sense to know who was piloting, but to her surprise, when she reached out, she found that the soul in front of her was a near-even mix of Aloth’s soft navy and Iselmyr’s gleaming scarlet. There was no hesitation in their kiss and the embrace Dyrdhára was being wrapped in was free of the tension that usually accompanied an internal struggle for control.
They were working together. They both wanted her. Aloth, her friend and the person she most wanted to protect, and Iselmyr, his other side and the enigma she wanted to understand better.
Relief flooded Dyrdhára’s veins and she leaned deeper into the kiss with a sigh. Iselmyr immediately took advantage, nipping at her bottom lip, as Aloth raised a hand to the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers carefully in her hair. Dyrdhára tilted her head to rest between the two movements and shivered at the overwhelming heat of it.
By all standards, their kiss never left the boundaries of PG-13, but Dyrdhára still found herself breathless and off-kilter as they parted for air. She blinked a few times, slowly bringing the world into focus, and found Aloth marveling at her with a reverence that Dyrdhára had only seen once before It was when he and Kana had been invited to help decode the recovered grimoire of one of those really famous wizards. Minu- or Ninog- something—she couldn’t recall. Dyrdhára could hardly remember her own skills at the moment.
“Wow,” she breathed once her breath came back to her, linking her hands behind Iselmyr’s neck (she knew it was Iselmyr for the sharp glint that suddenly came over Aloth’s eyes) with a soft smile on her own lips.
“Ah tellt ‘im he was daft fur nae trying ta kiss ye b’fore, hen,” Iselmyr said.
Dyrdhára tugged Iselmyr a hair closer. “So, you wanted to?” she asked.
“Aye,” Iselmyr agreed, and kissed her again through their smiles. Her hands came to rest on Dyrdhára’s waist, two points of warmth that seemed to melt her from the inside out.
It was Aloth who greeted her when they parted again, though, pressing his forehead against hers. He let go of her waist and gently took her own hands in his as he murmured, “I like you, too, Dyrdhára. You’re fierce and brave and no one in the world stands up for her friends—for me—like you do. The courts back home would have been better with you in them.” He glanced away momentarily, the tips of his ears reddening as he added, “Better and more beautiful.”
Dyrdhára laughed brightly, feeling the compliments settle like sparklers inside of her. But as she took in the man before her, almost relaxed and glowing despite the dark clothes he wore and his dark hair that seemed determined to twist itself out of the half-ponytail Aloth had fashioned, Dyrdhára could think of nothing else to do except take his face in her hands. “You’re amazing,” she said, “and I’m so glad I don’t have to pretend anymore.”
Aloth raised an eyebrow. “Pretend?”
“That I’m not falling in love with you.” She felt a little bad for saying it so bluntly when Aloth’s cheeks lit up like flares, but he was smiling. She was so blissfully content for a few moments that it caught her off guard when her stomach suddenly panged, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since a very early lunch. “Help me make dinner?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, passing her a hair-tie. Her normally casual, silver waves were a mess of near-curls, and she set about trying to pull them back as she led Aloth to the kitchen.
Their friends still owed them a massive apology, and there was a conversation about boundaries waiting to happen, but it still somehow seemed worth it. Dyrdhára sighed fondly. She really should have known.
In response to @pillarspromptsweekly prompt #0009.
Title: Cold Confusion
Summary: While it’s difficult to catch Tai Lon and her party of overly-cautious adventurers off-guard, it can be done. She really hopes that no one in the Leaden Key was taking notes on this particular encounter.
Warnings: mentions of death, canon-typical violence
Notes: This piece kicked my ass for soooo long. I’m kind of relieved to be done with it. I’m happy with how it turned out, though. Also writing Devil is great and it’s a shame that none of my Watchers are better friends with her.
The winds south of Stalwart weren’t quite comparable to a bîaŵac, but it was a close thing with the way they seemed to cut straight through both skin and armor like a hot knife through butter. Frigid temperatures alone were dangerous, but when combined with buffeting winds that swept up snow dunes with the ease and enthusiasm of a child, Tai Lon was all too aware that they could be the deadliest threat her party would face on the road back to the Dyrwood.
“Watcher.” Sagani’s voice was sharp as she called forward through the storm.
One glance over her shoulder towards Sagani and Devil told her that she wasn’t alone in thinking that it might be best to find shelter early today. The boreal dwarf’s free hand was tangled in Itumaak’s fur, seeking out the warmth there. The construct’s steps were laborious despite the ground holding only a few inches of snow.
If the women in her party, all either well-accustomed or well-adjusted to facing Rymrgand’s breath on Eora, were uncomfortable, then she didn’t want to imagine how the boys were feeling. Biting her lip, she flicked her eyes over Edér and Aloth. They were standing close together, and Tai Lon’s eyes caught shuffling tracks in the snow, indicating Aloth had moved up behind Edér almost as soon as they stopped. The latter of the two had readjusted his shield accordingly, creating a feeble wind break for the two.
Durance, also, had drawn up beside Edér, though he stood further back. Whether he was trying not to seem as though he needed help or was simply to stubborn to admit he was cold in the first place, Tai Lon couldn’t tell. Her quick glance in his direction did tell her that he was shivering, though.
Sagani’s severe brown eyes caught Tai Lon’s attention once more as she jerked her head towards some forest-blanketed hills on their left. “Let’s find somewhere to camp down,” she said, voice loud over the winds.
“Great minds…” Tai Lon hummed, nodding. She began to veer from the path, hoping the trees there would have enough dry wood for a campfire and a modicum of shelter from the winds.
The forest was horrendously dense, which Tai Lon quickly realized was as much a blessing as it was a curse. Though the blizzard’s winds broke against the lattice of trees, the ground was an uneven mass of roots, pitfalls, and mud. Even with a ranger, a fox, and two rogues guiding the party, their pace slowed significantly. It really didn’t help that the white noise of the storm was growing steadily more enraged, whispering in sporadic crescendos that snapped at the edges of Tai Lon’s patience.
The Watcher rubbed her temples briefly but found no relief. The storm and the voices in her mind continued to blur together. Amidst the cacophony, she thought she could make out a child’s cry, but it was gone before she could make sense of it.
So Tai Lon was surprised when she looked up to find her party had pulled to a stop, eyes sharp and narrow as they scanned the surroundingings.
“Didja all hear that?” Edér asked, switching his attention from the trees to the party and back again.
“I thought I imagined it,” Tai Lon breathed. “I guess not. Where’d it come from?”
Sagani lifted an arm. “That way, about,” she said, indicating the direction in which Itumaak’s nose was pointed.
A loud sigh drew the group’s eyes towards Durance, who was leaning almost theatrically against his staff. Tai Lon raised an eyebrow, one hand going to rest on her hip as she waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she opened her mouth to prompt him—
“If our mission was to become a search and rescue team, I wouldn’t have wasted my time,” he said. Tai Lon tried and failed to hold back a scowl.
“You said you wanted to observe me, Durance,” she said sourly. “If it turned out to be such a waste, no one is stopping you from leaving. Gods know I don’t believe in forced labor.”
A hand tapped her on the shoulder and Devil appeared at her side. “Not that I’m agreeing with Mr. Tall, Dirty, and Angry,” she said, “but ‘e might have a point. There’s nothing out here—no settlements, no trade routes—for miles. So, there’s no reason anyone should be here. ‘Specially not a kid.”
Aloth crossed his arms, frowning thoughtfully. “You think it’s—”
“—a trap,” finished Sagani. “Could be.”
Tai Lon nodded, but asked, “If there’s no one out here, though, who set it?”
Edér pulled his shield back out. “Only one way to find out,” he said, grimacing as another echoing cry broke through the trees.
About five or so minutes into their trek, which was interspersed with increasingly creepy and irritating shouts, shrieks and whines, Devil leaned over Tai Lon’s shoulder. Her metal chin dug slightly into the hollow of Tai Lon’s neck as she whirred out, “Someone’s followin’ us.”
Tai Lon nodded, but said nothing, and Devil withdrew, leaving Tai Lon to try and subtly scan the forest. For the first several seconds, there was nothing, but then, at the very edge of her vision, a shadow moved. Too silent to be an animal. And definitely not running away.
Over the next several minutes, Tai Lon set about slowly rearranging their march so that the casters were cushioned in the middle. Confrontation seemed more imminent with each step forward. They settled into the order with little question, though Tai Lon suspected that at least Aloth and Sagani had realized what was happening. She was glad for it when, a few meters forward, Tai Lon felt a tug on her senses.
Flickering like candlelight, the muted magenta aura of a soul was just barely visible up ahead. To her friends, it would look like any other tree, but it was a beacon to Tai Lon.
Luckily, the soul was attached to a toy warhammer, which was planted in the snow at the base of a tree almost like a memorial. Though Devil couldn’t see the soul, she did see the toy and stopped a safe distance away. “Found something,” she said, hands going to her weapons. Tai Lon did the same, listening for any movement.
She was met with only the usual whispers, still blending eerily with the blustering winds that managed to seep through the trees. When the forest remained otherwise still, no arrows or spells or attackers becoming visible, Tai Lon sighed, biting her cheek.
“Watcher?” asked Aloth from beside her, clearly as anxious as he was confused.
She dropped her grip on her daggers. “There’s a soul attached to the toy,” she said, just loud enough for her party to hear. “And I’m pretty sure someone is waiting for me to talk to it.”
“What do you mean ‘someone?’” asked Edér.
Aloth pulled his grimoire out and started to leaf through it, looking almost casual as he answered, “We’re being followed. And if I understand the situation, whoever it is used that soul as bait. They want her to go into a Watcher trance.”
“She’ll be defenseless,” said Durance, as though he were announcing the weather was currently cold.
Edér frowned. “Now, I don’t know about you, Durance, but I sure think we count as defenses.” He looked over the group, shaking the shield in his grip just slightly. From the corner of her eye, Tai Lon noticed that Devil’s hands were still resting on the grips of her sword and dagger, and that Sagani’s bow was held firmly in one hand.
Aloth glanced up from his grimoire and locked eyes with her, nodding minutely. A smile, small but reassuring, formed on his lips for a moment before it fell, slipping like wet stone under the weight of the party’s collective anxiety. However, his voice was still firm as he said, “If there’s something you need to do with that soul, then I’m sure we can buy you the time to do it.”
Something warm fell over Tai Lon like a blanket, wrapping her tight enough that she could almost believe her friends’ conviction was enough to form a shield on its own. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do—”
A shriek—pained and frightened—ripped through the air like lightning, and the thunder that followed was a seal erupting from the ground beneath them. Tai Lon had enough time to hiss something impolite about enemy priests before she was falling, her back striking a mass of roots on the forest floor that knocked the wind solidly out of her.
She registered the sounds of arrows being loosed and instinctively rolled to protect herself, getting a face full of snow in the process. However, the multitude of impacts she was expecting never came, replaced by the rapid staccato of darts against wood. Only a single arrow nicked her, leaving a neat cut near the elbow of her left arm. Tai Lon glanced over her shoulder to see Edér and his shield covering her, giving her the time she needed to regain her footing. Glad one of us resisted it, she thought with a smile. “Thanks,” she added aloud, patting Edér on the shoulder before turning to check for enemies behind them.
There was a single shadow vanishing behind one of the trees, and Tai Lon rushed towards it, trusting her friends to take care of the others. One hand outstretched to steady herself against the trunk of the suspicious tree, Tai Lon swung around towards her target, driving her dagger with the momentum.
Two tear-filled blue eyes stared up at her. Tai Lon stumbled as she let go of the tree at the last second, causing her strike to go wide and just scrape some bark from the tree instead of slicing the neck of the actual child now before her. Her breath froze, and her chest didn’t move for several seconds as she and the young dwarf stared at each other.
“What the hell?” Tai Lon finally asked, the words rushing out of her on a single exhale. The sounds of battle faded into a dull hum as she tried to focus on the kid. Her hands shook, nearly releasing their grip on her weapons. A thousand questions ran through her head, tying her thoughts in ribbons as they whirled chaotically. Who is he? Why is he here? What’s he got to do with them? Is he hurt? How’d he survive? Is he cold? Did they kn—
Tai Lon’s entire body seized as something burst through her, ripping into her back and straight out of her chest. It burned, like she’d been run through with a greatsword fresh off the forge. She couldn’t even twitch, let alone turn around to face whoever had struck her.
Unable to move as she was, Tai Lon watched as a bolt of lightning exited her chest and slammed into the tree in front of her just over the child’s head, immediately bouncing back and shooting through her abdomen. Thousands of sparks swam through her blood as the magic left a second, scorching wound and rocketed back into the distance. She couldn’t even feel the snow under her hands and knees as she dropped forwards, though it seemed like it should be melting under her touch as her body burned itself. Someone in front of her was screaming. She wondered if her insides could turn to ash while she still drew breath.
The poor kid shouldn’t have to see this. It took several seconds for Tai Lon to find the strength to raise her head, and several more for her to realize the child was gone. Then the scream ended, and Tai Lon realized it had come from her own throat.
In the distance, she spotted a flicker of magenta energy. There was a connection there, something to do with the soul, she was sure, but her mind was practically liquid. She couldn’t find the link in all the chaos
Tai Lon turned around and pushed her still-shaking body into a somersault, narrowly avoiding a few magical pellets of energy that had been seconds from hitting her. A caster—a wizard, she corrected, seeing their grimoire—in a familiar black hood and mask had a wand outstretched in her direction. However, seeing that Tai Lon wasn’t down yet, the hand holding it pulled back and came to rest on the figure’s chest as they began a defensive incantation.
Though Tai Lon wasn’t fast enough to stop it, she was deft enough to avoid the arcane double and drive the pommel of her dagger into the wizard’s stomach, just above the navel. She reached up with her stiletto and carved a line down one arm, slicing open the figure’s black robes. She really hoped the winds stung even half as much as the lightning bolt had. She landed two more strikes—not mortal blows, but deep—and was satisfied to see that the figure’s robes were becoming wet with blood and frost as each of her foe’s movements worsened the injuries.
It was enough of a confidence boost for Tai Lon to dive around the figure, who was still gasping for breath and struggling to keep their grimoire and wand steady, and drive both dagger and stiletto into the base of their neck. They gurgled, wetly struggling for another breath, but when Tai Lon pulled her blades back (with a kick to their back for good measure), the figure dropped forwards into the snow, unmoving. She found herself glad, for once, that spellcasters went down so easily.
Her arms slowly wound around her stomach, pinning her charred armor back into some semblance of its proper place, just as Devil snaked around the corner, calling, “You oka—” She froze, taking in what Tai Lon assumed was a mess. “Shit. Hey, priest, get yer ass over here!”
Durance came into view, grumbling as his face went splotchy with anger. He was followed closely by Aloth, and Tai Lon could hear Edér somewhere behind them. “Where’s Sagani?” she asked as Durance began an incantation.
“Lootin’ the bodies,” Edér said lightly, though his eyes were still fixed on Tai Lon and his brow was furrowed in worry.
Tai Lon nodded as Aloth approached her. She was about to mention the Leaden Key wizard’s grimoire when the first wave of a Consecrated Ground spell washed over her. Instantly, the burning in her veins was muted and the tremors in her hands (and lips and thighs and honestly her entire body) settled as parts of her that she hadn’t even realized were tense started to relax. She sighed as her arms dropped back to her sides, waiting for another few pulses of healing to do their work.
Aloth had reached her side, then, and she inclined her chin towards the body at her feet. “Might want to take a look at that,” she said.
“Are you alright?” Aloth asked, not turning towards the dead wizard in the slightest. Tai Lon noticed one of his hands was halfway raised and his eyes, sharp as they were blue in the dim light, were fixed on her arm. The arrow wound was still visible, though looking better with each passing moment.
Tai Lon frowned, ignoring it. “Fine, but I’d be a lot better if you could tell me whether or not this asshole’s the reason we were hearing things.” Aloth took a step back as she looked up towards Devil and Edér. “Did they have any other casters?”
Edér shrugged. “A priest o’ their own. Woedica’s, I’d think, given the usual…” he gestured to his face and neck.
“This one has a spell bookmarked,” Aloth said, looking up at Tai Lon from where he had knelt in the snow. “It’s… not one I use, but it looks as though it were modified from the Bewildering Spectacle spell.”
The aggressive whirring and clicking of one of Devil’s impatient sighs suddenly added to the roaring winds in the distance. “So?” she asked.
“So,” Aloth said, “it’s quite likely that this spell was being used to generate the cries we heard.”
“And the fake kid that got me to turn my back,” Tai Lon finished, grimacing. “That was…stupid.” Durance snorted, but she ignored him. However, as the adrenaline of battle was fading, Tai Lon noted again that her party was shivering and was now sporting some bruises and nicks to match their normal fatigue after a day’s travel. She locked eyes with Edér. “Head back the way we came and find some wood for a fire. I trust you guys and Sagani to sort through these guys’ stuff.” She waved a hand over the wizard’s body as well as back in the direction of the main fight.
“And you?” asked Aloth.
Sheathing her weapons quickly, she rolled her shoulders, barely suppressing a wince as she agitated the wounds on her back. “There’s still a soul over there I need to take care of,” she said. “The rest of it was a set-up, but I don’t think they could fake that.”
Aloth stood and brushed off his robes. “Allow me to go with you,” he said. Tai Lon raised an eyebrow, going to protest, but Aloth continued, “Just in case anyone was left behind.”
“Aloth, you’re freezing,” Tai Lon protested. “And everyone’s exhausted. We need to set up camp. I really don’t think there are any more of these guys—we only saw the one group.”
“If not me, then…” Aloth trailed off, pulling his arms around himself as a breeze swirled past them, shaking snow loose from the trees above.
“I’ll go,” said Devil, carelessly flipping her dagger in one metal hand. “Not like the cold can get to me.”
Aloth nodded stiffly and turned to follow Durance back towards where Sagani was waiting. Edér fell into step behind them after scowling once more at the dead wizard for good measure. Tai Lon turned back in the direction of the abandoned toy.
“He’s worried about’cha,” Devil said from over her shoulder.
Tai Lon resisted rolling her eyes again. “He shouldn’t be. I’m the one who’s worried about him. Wizards can’t take that many hits.” She looked back. “That one back there went down in five stabs and a punch to the solar plexus. Three of those hits weren’t even deep.” The magenta glow of the soul was in front of them again, and Tai Lon walked towards it with a shake of her head.
“For what it’s worth,” Devil said, leaning against a tree nearby, “I don’t think his friends buy him armor that’s nearly as nice as you do yers.”
A short laugh burst from Tai Lon’s lips, and the thought of Leaden Key agents going armor shopping was almost enough to dull the pain of recognizing the face of the young boy whose soul was attached to the toy warhammer. But not quite. After breaking the news that he was dead and struggling to offer some kind of comfort as the young dwarf passed on, Tai Lon remained seated on the snow-covered roots. She was glad the blood of their battle hadn’t soaked all the way to this tree yet. Maybe the kid was still able to see the forest as it was in his last moments—silent and glittering with silver frost.
It’s all just the Key as usual, she thought bitterly, getting to her feet. Assholes.
She reached out for the toy and tucked it quietly into her bag, ignoring Devil’s needling about being a sentimental flesh-sack as they made their way towards camp.
