Blood Red Hands, and Silver Swords

Ft. The usual suspects --

@bloodredhands @shadesofblades @naejlas-axe @songs-of-light-xiv

In which an AU dreamed up and written about by my dear @soulshards (or bloodredhands, depending) makes me fall apart every time I think about it.

More sad AU shenanigans because I am an evil OC parent aha WITH bonus closeup of the dog tags because they make me SAD. Ezekiel's dog tags around E'mal's neck man.....heartbreaking.

Adrenaline coursed through E'mal's veins as he darted through the snowy landscape, chest heaving with the strain of keeping up a quick pace. A small voice inside knew it was a fruitless endeavor; There would never be a day that he could outrun the man currently biting at his heels. 

Like a sheep fleeing the jaws of a wolf. His ears swiveled rapidly, keeping note of the rapid heartbeat of his pursuer. Not quite as fast as his own, but fast nonetheless. Despite his current frantic fleeing, there was a wicked grin on his face. The adrenaline in him was not from fear but from excitement. The chase was exhilarating, and he planned to keep it up as long as possible. Though, with the other player involved, this little ‘game’ might be short-lived. 

This had all started with E'mal bolding approaching his partner with a specific request. One that had the man looking at him, initially, as if he'd grown an extra limb, faint worry tinging his response. Oh, how that worry melted away with teasing touches and provoking words– promises of what else could be earned from cooperation and trust. And, as everyone knows, Ezekiel has such a hard time telling E'mal no. 

So, agreement and boundaries set, they started this little game. A predator after his prey. Wolf and sheep. The heartbeat behind him was clearer now; Closer. E'mal knew their boundaries. He knew what he was able to safely get away with. A little aether won't hurt. He shifted the wind to blast a pile of snow from the upper branches of the pines surrounding them, leaving a mess in the immediate path behind him. 

The growl that caught his ear made him shudder, unable to tell if it was from the taste of magic in his throat or the annoyance of his current pathway being cut off. One way bought him extra time while the other….

Well that would simply have to be seen should the wolf’s jaws catch him. 

Quickly, he veered off to one side, changing his route. The snow was…deep. And E'mal's small stature was making this increasingly more difficult. He has also…lost the exact pinpoint of where the predator at his heels was. For a man so large and armored, Ezekiel moved terrifyingly quietly. The snow was his favored terrain, after all. E'mal could usually tell where he was, but he seemed to be taking extra care to remain as stealthy as possible now. And whatever subtle sounds he did make were lost beneath the harsh thrumming of E'mal's own heartbeat in his ears. Adrenaline spiking more, E'mal's eyes darted around for any sort of escape route or safety. The best he had were the pine trees towering over him. That…could work. He could jump in the treetops for a while with far more ease than the snow drifts and buy himself extra time. 

He didn't hesitate long. He had hardly even changed his pace to consider. But unbeknownst to him, it was just enough of a stutter to spell his capture. His feet skidded to a short stop in the snow, hands and feet digging into the tree trunk as he scurried his way towards the lowest accessible branch. So close, fingertips grazed the hold before they were ripped away from it. Gauntleted hands grabbed E'mal's waist and he cried out, pieces of tree and bark flying as his captor tossed him into the snow. 

He swiped out towards the man, claws extended to try and gain any sort of purchase into the armor's few weak points. That attempt was cut short as one large hand gripped both of his wrists, pinning them down above his head. He tried to struggle his way out, but Ezekiel's large form held him down, his face hovering inches above E'mal's. Fangs flashed and he growled at him, causing E'mal’s struggle to still as his chest heaved with effort. Ezekiel's voice, rougher and more intense than usual, met his ears. 

“[Little lamb], you made this too easy…]” 

Leaving no room for E'mal to protest, he crashed their lips together in a bruising kiss. Teeth and tongues clashed before E'mal could catch his breath, arms straining against the hold Ezekiel had on him. He loved every moment of this, but he also wanted to breath, feeling the uncomfortable burning in his lungs growing. So he pressed harshly into the kiss, grabbing Ezekiel's bottom lip between his fangs and biting. The metallic taste of blood coated his tongue and Ezekiel pulled back with a feral snarl, the splash of crimson on his lip vibrant against pale skin. 

Ferocity reserved for the task at hand, Ezekiel's lips ended up against E'mal's throat, smearing that slowly forming splash of blood across soft skin. The sharpened tips of his canines pressed lightly there; A predator's threat mixing with harsh breaths that formed small puffs in the cold Coerthas air. He didn't need to say more. The deep, rumbling growls in his chest drawing a sharp gasp from the Rava, back arching off the ground to press himself flush against Ezekiel. He tilted his head back, baring his throat further to his partner's actions with a needy whine. This drew a noise of amusement from the ‘wolf’, smirking against that newly exposed surface. He shifted to the side, intending to avoiding sinking fangs into anything truly important before biting down.

Fire burned at E'mal's core as he cried out, pain bleeding into pleasure as he desperately struggled against the hold Ezekiel had on his wrists. Panting and squirming his hips against the unmoving figure above him, a small voice in the back of his mind echoed just how good of an idea this was, after all. 

Fangs withdrawn, Ezekiel whispers, breath hot against E'mal's throat, “I know what you want. You're such a needy thing…” 

He pushed himself up further, one hand still on E'mal's wrists and the other going to his front, grabbing the cloth and balling into a fist before yanking E'mal's body closer against him, colliding lower bodies together, despite them still being fully clothed. Ezekiel hooks the claw of his gauntleted finger into the cloth keeping E'mal covered, eyes focused on the man beneath him. Watching him pant and squirm, hearing his little bleating noises as he begs for him while grinding himself against his armored thigh. 

E'mal's breath came out in ragged gasps as he ground himself against his lover. The breath was too hot against his neck, his fangs nipping at the tender skin as he whispered filthy, possessive words that made E'mal's brain fry. He knew what was coming, he had craved it from the beginning, begged for it, and he could hardly keep up the facade of their little game any longer. 

He nearly sobbed, desperate struggle against the iron grip on his arms proving useless. He wanted– no, needed to touch and be touched. It was torture. And he cried as much. Begging and pleading, a babbling mess beneath his beloved. His beloved who only chuckled darkly, leaning in to capture E'mal's lips in a crushing kiss once again, pulling back just enough to whisper between them,

E'mal's life was always something of a whirlwind, good or bad. Nothing has been predictable at any point, and things constantly shifted from what he expected. 

Perhaps one of the biggest shifts in recent memory was discovering that he wasn't the last of his kin. In fact, his biological father was still alive. Through circumstances he would have never predicted from people he would've never expected to be acquainted with, he was introduced to a man who shared the same mark upon his forehead. A mark of his people. 

So after a period of swirling emotions, energized chats, and reconnecting, E'mal decided it was time to introduce his father to someone very dear to him. His partner. It was a bit of a nerve-wracking idea, seeing as though Siege and Ezekiel shared similar….grumpy tendencies. But perhaps that would bond them! 

This thought in mind brought him to where he was now; Milling about the kitchen in the home he shared with Ezekiel as his father sat at the large wooden dining table. E'mal had put on some tea for them all as he awaited his beloved 's return from an excursion. He did at least inform him they'd be having a very important guest today. So hopefully he wouldn’t keep the pair waiting too long. 

Ezekiel had been informed of the guest that was to arrive upon his house; and while the Viera was not overly fond of strangers upon his secluded property, he knew that if E’mal was insisting upon the meeting, it was someone important to him. And while the large man disliked the secrecy behind the meeting - he begrudgingly agreed.

This person seemed important enough that Ezekiel took it upon himself to go for a small hunt before the allotted time, knowing there was going to be an unknown person in his home, he needed to be as focused as he could be. He could not have a certain whispering voice in his head demanding flesh and violence. He needed to be clear minded, so he could act accordingly. Either this person was a friend, or someone to be weary of. Whatever it would be - he needed to be on point. So, anything he could do to sate the beast, he would.

His sword was cleaned in the snow, blood staining the white a vibrant red, sheathed upon his back as armoured boots would trudge him back towards his home. Black ichor would slink back from across his form and into his chest, the silence starting to settle in. Peaceful, even if it would be short lived. But it should be long enough to get this stranger out of the way. Perhaps not quite on time, but close enough. His footsteps would sound his arrival before his hand touched the door, knowing E’mal would be flitting around the house in that nervous notion he sometimes had - listening intently for his arrival.

A small grunt was given as the door to his home opened, ducking slightly so ears didn’t drag over the doorframe. He heard the nervous flutter of his partner, and the steady beat of another. Somewhat familiar, in a distant fashion. A figure he had passed upon the street, perhaps.

Nervous flittering was correct – E'mal hadn't been able to sit still since arriving at the cabin. He idly chattered at his father as he darted around, one ear always turned towards the door. A bit of a habit he'd picked up from his ever-watchful partner. That ear flicked as he heard the familiar footsteps, unable to contain the bubbly grin on his face as he trotted towards the door, towel in hand to help brush the snow from Ezekiel's armor. A routine he'd picked up. 

Siege, however, had picked up on something far less exciting. The thrum of the newcomers heartbeat…the sound of his steps….something was scratching at his brain in a way he didn't like. He carefully watched E'mal nice towards the door, feeling a brief pang of something softer as he witnessed his excitement. He acknowledged how palpable his affections were for a brief moment before the door swung open. He bristled in his seat as he watched an unfortunately familiar figure step through. His lips curled behind his mask, glad to still be wearing it in this moment. His eyes sharpened and he stared a hole through the side of this newcomer. 

Of course it was him. 

E'mal, while standing on his toes to lovingly brush Ezekiel's armor and face free of snow and cold with the towel, turned his face and with a dazzling smile spoke. A smile that struck something sharp in Siege's chest just for a brief moment. Shades of her shining through their boy. Though the man at his side killed any sentimental feelings instantly. 

“Ezie, darling, this is the guest I wanted you to meet! This is my father! Like [father] father! Isn't that wonderful?” 

Ezekiel had braced himself for the fussing. He knew how E’mal could get. He did not mind how E’mal could get. His desire to care for the large man who really did not need to be taken care of all that much, was endearing. It was what had drawn him to the smaller Viera - his unwavering kindness, despite everything.

Despite everything he had done. E’mal was still there, in the doorway, peppering his armour with the kitchen towel to rid of any excess snow and a bright, if not nervous, smile in place. Ezekiel’s weak gaze was fixed upon the man before him for a moment overlong, one ear craned towards him, the other twitching and shifting around the room to focus upon the supposed guest in their shared abode.

He heard the shift of the other man. The parting of lips to bare fangs behind the mask, his brow furrowed gently. The heartbeat that, despite everything, still remained steady. Not unlike his own. A steady heartbeat of a man who had seen far too much - even if it faltered, for just a moment - before resuming that steady thrum.

Pale eyes finally pulled from E’mal upon the introduction to peer at the man who sat upon his table. His features, while a little blurry, all too familiar. He recalled the clash of steel. Father. He recalled the accusations. Father? He recalled the determined actions of a man who only saw Ezekiel’s mask - and nothing else. Father.

The words seemed to take a little longer to register than normal. This was not the same father he had already met, the kind Miqo’te who had adopted E’mal into his life with his wife. No. His biological father, from the Jungle. His brow furrowed, just a little.

Of course it was him.

Hunched shoulders would straighten out, spine straightening out to stand his full height - not the slightly leaned over form he often forced upon himself to look less imposing. Ears twitched, lips parting before falling closed, a twinkle of fang on show as he decided on how best to… say… anything.

E’mal didn’t need to know, right? Right.

“...that is wonderful, E’mal.” He spoke quietly, the words a rasp in this throat as a growl tried to leave with them. But still, he spoke softly to the excited Rava. For him, he knew it was wonderful.

If E'mal was aware of the tension bubbling between the two men he'd just reintroduced, he made no show of it. His smile remained bright and beautiful, taking Ezekiel's hands in his own to walk him– more like drag him– towards Siege. 

Siege had already stood as they approached, trying his damnedest to keep his expression level. For his son. He saw the glimmer in his eye as he looked at the over-armored man beside him, knowing all too well what an overflowing heart feels like, and he didn't have it in him to break it so easily. 

Whether he knew it or not, Ezekiel and him were in agreement. E'mal didn't need to know, right? 

Despite being significantly shorter than Ezekiel, Siege stood upright with a soldier's posture, clearly unswayed. His ears were forward and trained on the larger Veena, eyes upturned to his face. At this distance, and with far less insults and weapons flying, Siege's age was visible. He was an old jack who had seen too much– not unlike Ezekiel. 

There was a pause, tensions building slowly before Siege slowly extended a hand for the other to shake. Through gritted teeth and with a very thick accent, he offered his best attempt at being cordial. 

“Greetings [Guardian],” the word was spoken with a small bit of snark, “My son has been eager for us to meet.” 

E'mal looked up at Ezekiel with big, expectant eyes. His excitement would be contagious, had he not been in the company of these specific individuals. 

Ezekiel was glad that, despite the tension being almost palpable between the two jacks, E’mal did not seem to notice. Perhaps on any other day, with any other individual, he would crack a smile at the man's excitement.

Sadly, however, he had been greeted with the face of a man who had tried to cut him down some time ago - and while he was often one for grudges, in this case, he knew he needed to get over it. As best he could, anyways.

Glad he was, it seemed, his father was in agreement about keeping their altercation between themselves. And it seemed the man was in no rush to raise arms against him now. So, even as the Rava would square himself off against Ezekiel - as he did much the same, he steadied himself as from the corner of his eye he saw that big, expectant grin, upon the face of the man he loved.

His heart fluttered, for just a moment, before a short sigh left him. He bit his tongue. He ignored the way in which the words were spoken to him, the thick accent, the almost accusatory way in which the word Guardian was spoken.

He gave a small grunt of agreement at the man's words. E’mal was eager. Neither of them seemed to be, but, their common connection was.

After a moment, he stepped forward, reaching to take that outstretched hand in his own. The grip firm, vice like, to give the man a less-than-cordial handshake. “It is nice to meet you.”

The grip on his hand instantly irritated him. Though he was disciplined enough to quell it. He channeled the same energy, tightening his grip in an equal display of intimidation as he bared fangs behind his mask. He knew Ezekiel would know. And that’s all he wanted. He held the handshake a beat longer than needed, eyes locked with the taller man. Unspoken, begrudging pact to get along in front of E’mal. 

But only what was absolutely necessary.

The stare off was interrupted by E’mal’s hands clapping together, a laugh bubbling up. “Oh, this is wonderful! I’m so happy you two could meet! I’m sure you’ll get along great!” He wrapped his arms around Ezekiel, squishing his cheek against chilled armor. “Shall I make us dinner then? It would be a nice chance for us to all chat!”

Siege released the handshake, looking with furrowed brows between E’mal and the annoyance beside him. He suddenly felt very trapped in this situation. 

He eyed the larger Veena, daring him to make the call. 

Ezekiel’s ears twitched at the returned grip; his gaze thinning for just a moment, fangs once more flickering into existence behind pulled back lips that was almost a smile. Almost. Before they were hidden back away as the handshake persisted for that little moment longer.

He was unphased. His grip remained firm around the mans before they pulled away, and that same hand came to softly rest upon E’mal’s head as he pressed himself into the cold, slightly blood stained armour that still clung to his form.

His gaze drifted down to his partner, then back to the man before him, head dipping to the side in a slow motion.

Ezekiel saw the way in which Siege looked at him, letting him make the decision, it seemed, to either prolong or reduce their suffering by tolerating each other's presence for a few hours more.

Most days, Ezekiel would jump at the chance to not have to socialise. Most days, he would be the first one out the door.