キャスカ

‘ mercy doesn’t defeat an enemy ’ , says @cascality, and chani’s eyes flutter back open. she pauses, drawing her palms back to the center of her body.

the heat was excruciatingly brutal.

the temperature was foreign to her skin. her body had been tempered by the damp, biting chill of forests, the iron-scented air of battlefields on dirt and mud. this... felt like something else entirely. like the sun was unusually antagonistic here.

her gaze drifted along the stone beneath them, following the path of chani’s attention across its fractures and worn edges. she saw the same cracks, the same grit—but whatever meaning chani found in it did not come to her. not yet.

it was the response that drew her back.

casca lifted a brow, studying the sayyadina with quiet focus. she turned the words over in her mind, testing them the way she would test a formation before committing men to it. every angle she approached from led her back to the same conclusion. there limits to it. limits she learned the hard way. if she were to extract anything from her experiences, it'd be that.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ huh. elaborate. ” she said at last, without the weight of philosophical aversion.

she wanted to be mindful of herself. because she respected chani, and the position she held among her people. she didn't want to her uncomfortable on a rather sensitive conversation. but it was one that needed to happen.

because, yes, she recognized chani as a woman with power — one casca has yet to fully comprehend — that can change the course of history in her land.

someone like her shouldn't wait around on anyone else to move. she didn't need eyes to see the woman was blessed in many respects, absent of her station.

from casca's position, she'd naturally project the belief that there should be a willingness to fight back, without tippy-toeing up a slippery slope that was undeniably dangerous.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ you're going to suffer an egregious amount of losses that way, chani.. balance doesn't hold the line. men do. and when they're afraid, when they think the person across from them is showing mercy... ” casca let the thought simmer with grueling heat in the air space between them, while harsh pasts reflected at the back of her mind.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ they take it as hesitation. and hesitation gets people killed. ”

as casca’s mouth found hers,   her soft lips embroidered in that same certainty she seemed to carry into every uncertainty,   alanna couldn’t help but wonder if she’d often thought of kissing her.   it is as gauzy and fleeting as everything else between them:   there and gone again so swiftly (too swiftly) that she’d only her own surety that it’d happened at all.   chaste and tender, like a lover's.   alanna feels herself softly list toward the space she’d held just a moment before and beams.   she touches a hand to the other woman’s face,   tracing the curve of cheekbone with her thumb.   they sat huddled together on the floor of her tent.   bathed in the amber wash of her lantern.

casca had spent most of her life learning how to exist inside the narrow spaces carved out for her by other people's expectations. soldier. commander. griffith's sword. each role fit cleanly enough when a battlefield and the man's dreams demanded it, but none of them had ever asked what she herself might want beyond surviving the next campaign.

alanna complicated that. only recently did she recognize how narrow those walls had been.

this woman moved with an ease through life that casca had never been taught to possess or even in the position to practice. alanna occupied her own space in the world without apology, loving where she wished, speaking where she pleased, as though such freedoms were naturally bestowed upon her since birth.

watching her had left casca unsettled in ways she had not expected. ever since their first meeting, she had caught herself regarding the woman more often than she meant to. watching the way she moved. listening to the cadence of her voice. it always felt as though alanna carried the ability to cause a rift in the world with her, opening it wider without ever meaning to.

it made her curious.

it also made her aware of the prison she had built for herself. the kiss had broken that door open, if only for a moment.

casca became sharply aware of her own breathing, the steady warmth of the lantern beside them, the quiet brush of alanna’s fingers along her cheek. it was strange how something so small could command her attention more completely than the thunderous rampage of a calvary breaking enemy lines ever had.

there was more weight to this than any armor she donned on the battlefield. steel striking steel had never felt like this. her heart beat harder than it did when she slain her first man. in such a simple motion, casca felt as though she had entered something vast.

she had never understood much about the language scholars used when speaking of the heavens. infinity, distance, the endless stretch of dark between stars. but she knew the feeling of looking up after a long march and realizing the sky reached farther than any road she had ever walked.

this felt a little like that. it was frightening. and beautiful all the same.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ excuse me for being insufferably stupid, ” she added after a moment, a soft smile touching her mouth. “ sorry to keep you waiting. i didn’t realize you were that patient. ”

a faint warmth remained where their lips had met, unexpectedly gentler than expected. the sweetness of the kiss had ruminated in her thoughts, it was impossible to ignore. heat rose quickly beneath her skin, coloring her smooth brown cheeks despite every attempt to remain composed.

it was embarrassing. for a fleeting moment she wondered if alanna might think less of her for it.

but when alanna’s hand remained against her face, casca did not pull away.

instead her own hand rose, taking the other woman’s wrist lightly. she lowered her head just enough to press a lasting kiss there, and held it close to her for a moment. she slowly breathed in the earthy notes of her scent, and sighed. it was intoxicating occupy such a scarily intimate space with her.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ it was… nice. ” the admission came softer than anything she had said all evening. “ i don't know what this means. i never—” the rest of the confession did not follow. she let it remain unfinished, the taste of the moment still warm on her lips—like honey she had stubbornly denied herself. for a moment she found herself studying the dancing shadows of the lantern's flame across the contours of alanna's face.

her hand moved almost absentmindedly, her fingers brushing lightly along alanna's wrist where she had kissed it moments before. a unspoken confirmation that she had not regretted the impulse.

did the hand thing scare you? a bit. you going to have nightmares, riley? i don't get nightmares. i do. like what? i have this reoccurring nightmare where i'm looking in the mirror my reflection is gone. like i don't exist.

he settles into the band of the hawk the way one settles uneasily into a new injury. the tight and twinging pain of a pulled muscle, a puncture wound healing over layer by layer, the unwelcome ache of a broken bone during winter. they welcome him tentatively, at first, and then with open arms—as soon as they realize what it is he can do. from this welcome comes a strange series of dynamics: they respect him, they fear him, they want him to like them, or they want to be him, or they mock him to cover their own shame. what alarms him more is the realization he cares. what is he meant to do with that?

they battle, and laugh, and drink together, jeer and crow and scream at the top of their lungs like wild animals, and guts stands at the edges of it all, uncertain. if griffith has set himself above them, their commander, and casca has set herself apart from them, then guts finds himself stranded, hungry to be a part of the pack, and—afraid. it all feeds back into the feeling that is most familiar for him, the easiest. it's not until after his temper has risen and fallen again that he realizes he's beginning to regret it.

it's casca that frightens him most easily. or she and griffith, in their own ways. the spat they'd gotten into earlier today hadn't been serious, but he'd been left feeling like he'd lost even when he hadn't. it's happening more and more often: she challenges him, and he doesn't buckle, but he comes... almost close. the rest are happy to embrace him for what he is, what he can do, but he and casca struggle against each other like a violent tide.

when casca follows him out of camp and through the edge of the trees, he's still trying to grapple with the familiar pulse of his own temper. there are no stars, tonight, just the moon. the leaves shift and cut through the sheen of light like the smattering of blood into the dirt. it's been a hard day. he'll come to his senses soon. it's a slip that he confesses anything to her at all—what surprises him more is that she says she knows, easy as anything. he licks his lips. she asks why he's snapped. he grinds his teeth, tries to speak. " you're... " the thoughts can churn all they want in his head, but when it comes to giving them a voice, he struggles. he can say nothing at all, or the wrong thing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ it sounds like you're offended for me. ”

a faint smile almost surfaced, one brow lifting with suspicion. the observation carried no bite behind it. it drifted out of her lightly, harmless as a dove's feather caught in the wind.

she had accused the man of many things in the time they had known each other—enough, perhaps, to make professional and honest criminals blush—but his feelings, what little of them he allowed others to see, were not on trial tonight. the day had been long. the night promised to be longer. whatever irritation she carried toward him barely held enough heat to warm an ant.

when he finished speaking she let the silence sit for a moment, watching the tension settle along his shoulders, hearing the rough edges of frustration still ingrained in his voice. she regarded him calmly, neither wounded nor defensive. if anything, there was a trace of weary understanding in her expression.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ or maybe it isn't about me. ” she said, after a moment, thoughtfully.

why would he care about her? outside of them being faithful comrade-in-arms, outside of her drive to slaughter a dozen of his enemies, and he a hundred of hers, she had never given him much legitimate reason to like her. she was fully aware of that.

she accepted that.

casca’s discipline had broken men that stood as behemoths, eclipsing even him. her tongue could cut as sharply as any blade out there. the possibility that she had wounded the reclusive giant more deeply than she realized unsettled her in a way she did not expect.

that, at least, was something she could correct.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ guts... i was wrong about what i said earlier. i can't take that back. but i should've chosen them better. ”

the admission stung less than the reason behind it. jealousy was an ugly thing to discover sitting in one’s own chest, and uglier still when the object of it was griffith. the man could charm beasts, kings, and adversaries alike. even she, who knew better than most, was not immune to it.

she stepped closer to him, the clink of her armament sounding her approach.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ know that any offense to you is an offense to me, ” she said simply. “ we taste the mornings together. we look for our tomorrows together. whatever comes our way, we face it on the same ground. ”

her gaze shifted briefly toward the camp behind them before returning to him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ but if you want to know the truth, i find your question irritating. ” there was no anger in the statement, only blunt honesty. she felt more insulted by that than any immature insult thrown her way, direct, or otherwise.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ it means you haven’t been paying attention. ”

some of the men in the band still carried thin white lines across their skin that her sword had placed there. old lessons. necessary ones. veterans knew better now. the younger hawks would learn soon enough.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ dilos and the others are young. ” she continued, smiling as traces of empathy surfaced in her tone. “ a few months in the saddle, not even a year of full campaigns between them. ” a quiet breath left her nose, followed by a short laugh. “ tomorrow morning, before first march, they’ll learn something useful. i doubt any of them will touch ale again for a month. ”

she turned slightly then, standing beside him rather than in front of him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ so tell me something, guts. ” her voice softened, curiosity finding its way back into her words. “ is it really my timing that bothers you? i can’t imagine the petty barbs of little boys—or the moments i decide to answer them—being enough to weigh on you like this. so is that it… or is it something else?”

she did not press him further. some men spoke easily. some were poets. some simply said what they meant without hesitation, careless of how rough the words might sound. guts was not one of them. she had learned long ago that forcing answers from him only drove him deeper into silence.

for now, it was enough that she stood there with him in the dark. if he chose to give her an inch of himself or retreat miles away into whatever battles he fought alone, she would accept either. she recognized the effort it took for him to bring words to life. what mattered tonight was simpler than that.

she chose to stand beside him.