When a stray fireball from Balthazar takes out half of the wooden stairway, Teraphany summons wings of light to bring her up instead, just barely making it onto the next ledge. “You’re fucking dead when I get back!” Her hands dig straight into the rotting wood, and she pulls herself up before continuing her reckless sprint. “I’ll never forgive you! I’ll--!”
The whole world shakes around Teraphany, nearly knocking her back off the edge. Balthazar lets out a loud, rippling laugh, and it’s enough to set Teraphany on fire alone. “I’m the one who gets to decide if I want to fight,” she rasps, and even as the desert itself quakes under Balthazar’s wrath, she continues to drag herself up the steps, then the rocks, carelessly cutting her palms on the jagged cliff face. “I’m the one who decides if I want to put my life on the line! NO ONE tells me what to do! I’m not under anyone’s control but myself! I’m doing this duty with you because there’s nowhere else in this stupid, godforsaken world that I’d choose to be!”
She leaps across a final gap in the bridge, and finally, she pulls herself up onto the top of the spire. “Do you hear me, Erin?! I’m--”
There’s nothing left on the peak except clear desert skies and a burnt corpse.
Teraphany doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even realise what she’s doing until a bird perches onto Erin’s broken body, landing as gracefully as snowfall. Her hands fly to her greatbow to shoot it out of the sky, because she can’t-- no fucking desert scavenger is going to pick at Erin when she’s--
"What are you doing?”
When Raven speaks to her, voice as cold as the snowstorm where Erin found him, Teraphany knows that there is no more playing pretend. “She’s already dead.”
422 words. At the end of part 5, Canach was about to come out as trans to Rytlock. Content Warning: transphobia, injury.
Canach sat alone in his room. The bullet hole in his chest had been replaced by rough bark, and the pain it brought was only slightly uncomfortable. The pain from being alone, however, was a different story.
He wanted to kick something. Rytlock’s face had been seared into his vision, and it gave him a puzzled stare, while the charr’s voice echoed in his head, asking questions he didn’t know how to answer and wouldn’t have wanted to even if he did.
How do you know you’re not just mad? His mind asked in Rytlock’s voice. He tried to sweep the thought away. How do I know I’m not mad? It said, in his own voice this time, and Canach didn’t know. That was why it hurt.
He had heard things like that before, but a long time ago, and never from Rytlock.
As if on cue, he heard intricate plates of armour clinking together in a telltale and usually pleasant sound. “If you could kindly piss off it would be much appreciated.”
Rytlock sighed. “Look, Canach, I’m sorry. I didn’t understand—”
“I noticed.”
There was a brief period of silence. “I still don’t,” Rytlock went on, “but I’m trying my best. I didn’t realise how much this mattered to you, and you never struck me as weak—”
“Wow. Great apology, Rytlock.”
“I didn’t think I could hurt you,” Rytlock almost yelled. He didn’t meet Canach’s eyes. “But I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”
Canach glared at him, but his gaze quickly fell to the ground. He wanted to forgive Rytlock. Badly. But he couldn’t just brush away their argument like it didn’t matter. Tears forced their way from his eyes, despite his efforts to stop them. Crying only ever made things worse. He tried to hide his face, and fix his stilted breathing, and silence the pathetic whimpers that managed to slip through his bared teeth.
Rytlock sank into the bed beside him, and he turned away. He wished the charr would just leave. More than that, he wished he had been more accepting. More gentle. But, of course, Rytlock was never gentle. He didn’t know what he expected.
Canach felt Rytlock’s arms around him, and stiffened. Surprise stemmed the flow of his tears. “I wish I’d taken things better,” Rytlock said quietly. Canach looked up at him.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said.”
“I’ll be less of a jerk now. I promise.”
“Thanks.”
“Is everything alright?”
Canach thought for a moment. “It will be,” he said, and hugged Rytlock back.
Hello i would like to share with everyone here a sweet Rytlock/Canach fic my dear friend wrote for my birthday years ago. I love it so much and it took me some time to convince said friend to finally post it online so please show it love!!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
[ID a halfbody artwork depicting Rytlock and Canach from Guild Wars 2. Rytlock wears a black sleeveless top and hot pink shutter shades. Canach wears a mustard turtleneck sweater, a hot pink shirt with half sleeves and glasses in heart shape of the same color. Canach stands in the darkness in front of the viewer with his arms crossed and a cocky grin. Rytlock stands behind him and faces to the right with his arm around Canach's neck. He laughs. Background is dark purple. End ID]
This artwork has been created in the middle of a very sleepy night. May you all get some restful sleep
[ID: A warm yellow and brown toned digital artwork of Rytlock and Canach from Guild Wars 2, lying in a pile of decorative pillows. They are covered with a blanket and Rytlock is lying on Canach's torso. Rytlock's eyes are heavily closed and his arms are put forward surrounding Canach's back. He looks very sleepy. Canach has his head up, nuzzling the top of Rytlock's nose and brushing his hands against Rytlock's cheeks. End ID]
Are they on a mission or maybe on a date? My commanders really don’t know.
[Id: a digital artwork of Rytlock Brimstone and Canach from Guild Wars 2. They are both in PoF expansion armors. they are standing next to each other facing the viewer and looking at different directions. They both grin as they stand in positions ready to fight with weapons in their hands. The background is dark blueish, with green horizontal strips at the bottom. Characters are faintly lighted by their weapons and armors. There is a very faint horizontal light far behind them, although it doesn’t iluminate them. End ID]
