Where Lights Won't Chase Us

“Is it important?”

Eva smiled and stepped in, closing the door behind her.  The instant the door was closed, her entire demeanor changed.  She relaxed her stance, cocked out a hip, and tilted her head slightly, adding a little lip bite in for extra flavor.

Sae had refocused her attention back on the paperwork, but at the lack of an answer, she looked up - and dropped her pen as a flush crept onto her face, cheeks turning a vivid red as the full affectations of her girlfriend (She’s not my girlfriend! she lied to herself) hit dead center.

That was the only problem with secretly dating Eva.  The girl was absolutely dripping with sex appeal, and she knew it.  It was in every sway of her hips as she walked up to Sae’s desk.  It was in the way she bent over at the waist to get down to Sae’s eye level.  It was in the way she wore that dangerous smirk, the one that brought Sae back to two nights ago, when she had worn it just before pressing Sae against the wall and decorating her neck with kisses that Sae had feared would become marks.

They hadn’t, luckily, but the fear of being discovered had honestly made it all better.  Not that she would ever admit that to Eva, because Eva already knew.

“Can...can I help-” “Shhh,” Eva whispered, placing a single finger over Sae’s quivering lips.  “This is a very important matter.” She stood up straight and slowly walked around the desk, taking her time, each step both infuriating and tantalizing Sae, adding to the immense sense of dread she felt.  This was always a risk - anyone could come and see Sae at any time, and being a lead prosecutor was a job that often meant people came to see her.  It was going to bite them both in the ass one day, but Eva seemed to thrive off of that feeling.  The risk, the potential for failure...Sae got the idea that Eva preferred it this way.

And Sae found her mouth suddenly dry every time she tried to protest.

Eva finally got to Sae, and she slid down easily into Sae’s lap as Sae automatically spread out her arms to support her.  She scooted herself closer, their faces just inches apart as Eva draped an arm across Sae’s shoulders, her other hand moving to gently take ahold of Sae’s chin.  Her touch was a trail of fire on Sae’s skin, and she swallowed as Eva guided Sae to look right at her. A powerful, demanding gaze, and one of the few things that could fully keep Sae Niijima’s attention, even when others wanted it.

As Eva’s hands continued to gently stroke on Sae’s chin, her thumb dared higher and higher, grazing Sae’s lips.  Sae’s breath hitched in response, in anticipation, in excitement.  Her fingers tightened around Eva’s side and leg, as if needing to be sure she could hold on for whatever came next.

Eva continued to study Sae, their eyes locked together, and she held it - held it until she was sure Sae was impatient and verging into frustration.  Then, she spoke, quiet and low and intimate.

“I need the files for the Kozukawa case,” she purred, moving her lips close to Sae’s ear, sending a shiver through the girl.  “Can you get them for me?” And then brutal reality came crashing down on them as Sae managed to process the words, and she turned her head to break free of Eva’s grasp, and she glared.  She moved her arms and let Eva slide off of her, landing in a heap on the floor, and Eva was unable to contain her laughter.

Sae didn’t find it very funny and went right back to her work, pointedly ignoring her girlfriend, who was occupied with trying to breathe between her laughs and was failing rather spectacularly at doing so.

Eventually, she got onto her feet and leaned on the desk for support, looking down at Sae, who was still ignoring her.  “Oh, dear, that was...your face, Sae, that was just…” And she sighed in barely contained mirth, straightening her shirt out.  “I really do need those files though.” “Second cabinet, third drawer,” Sae said without looking up from her papers.  The annoyed edge to her voice was impossible to miss.

With a smile, Eva moved over to the cabinets and opened up the specific drawer, rifling for a moment before finding what she wanted.  She pulled out the folder and closed the cabinet, turning back to Sae.  “Thank you, Niijima-San.” Sae just gave a terse nod, still not looking up.  She continued to not look up, even as Eva approached her again.  She was steadfastly focused on the papers on her desk as Eva moved behind her, placing her hands on Sae’s shoulders.  Still, her body responded to the touch, relaxing as Eva leaned down, her face now alongside Sae’s. “I’m sorry, dear, but it was just too funny.  If I promise to make it up to you later, will you kiss me goodbye?”

“Iris, can you d-”  The entrance and sudden stop of Erica into her section drew Iris’ attention, and she tilted her head over, one yellow eye opening to see her friend at the door. “Yes, Erica?” “I...can come back later, if you’d like?  Are you all right?” Iris almost hated that there was genuine concern in Erica’s voice, because it meant that she was going to have to explain herself, and she really didn’t want to do that. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Iris whined as she picked her head up and sat up in her chair.  “Just….ugh!” She stood up so she could look over the wall of her space, and over into the adjacent one - Violet’s space.  She was currently typing something up, but at the motion, she looked over and gave Iris a slight smile. Iris hurriedly ducked back behind her wall, face flushing more as she put her face in her hands.  “Ugh!  I hate her!” Erica tutted a few times, folding her hands together.  “Iris, it’s well over six years since she started working here.  Surely you don’t still hate her?” The exact opposite, in fact, Iris mused as she slouched down into her chair and folded her arms in front of her chest.  “No!” she hissed, trying to whisper.  “I don’t hate her.  And that’s the problem!” Erica blinked a few times, baffled in the statement.  “...how...how is that a problem?”

“No, Erica, I…”  Iris sighed, then looked up at her friend.  “I...really don’t hate her.  Like, I really, really don’t hate her.” “But isn’t th-”  And then Iris watched in both relief and horror as understanding spread over Erica’s face.  “Ooooooh.  Oh, Iris.” “Don’t ‘oh, Iris’ me!  Help me out here, Erica!  It’s killing me!  I’ve tried, you know, leaving hints and stuff but she keeps ignoring them!  I bought her flowers the other day!” Erica tilted her head, and then seemed to recall.  “The bouquet of irises and violets on her desk?  That was you?  ...wait, of course it was you, irises and violets.”

“And she didn’t get it!  How could she not get that?!  It’s so obvious!”  And with a thud, Iris put her face back on her desk.

Currently, Ianthe was examining the many rows of mason jars filled with seeds.  Each jar had a label bearing both the name and scientific name in Ainsley’s sharp, precise handwriting.  Ianthe had often expressed amazement at the sheer variety of Ainsley’s collection, a collection painstakingly assembled through centuries of dedicated work.

“Do you use all of these?” Ianthe asked as she plucked a jar of belladonna seeds from the shelves, examining them.

“At some point or another, yes,” Ainsley said as she stepped over, gently taking the belladonna jar from Ianthe and replacing it.

“For your work?  Spells, hexes, rituals, all that?”

Ainsley blinked.  “...yes.  ‘All that’, as you so eloquently put it.”  She stepped back to her cauldron.  “Do you require more seeds?”

Ianthe, despite her more mechanical and scientific leanings, had started up her own witch’s garden from a generous donation of starter seeds from Ainsley.  Ainsley still couldn’t believe how long she’s spent painstakingly assembling the perfect list for Ianthe, packing the bag with seeds that smelled like Ianthe’s favorite aromas - metal shavings, hazlenut, machine oil, freshly cut grass....

“I need a wide variety of ingredients for when people come to ask me favors, or if I decide to help them ahead of time anyway.”  Ainsley’s non-Ianthe visitors were rare, being as far removed from society as she was, but they still happened.

She cast her eyes over the shelf for a moment before finding the desired component, taking a jar full of bright red seeds down.  Moving back to her cauldron, she popped open the top of the jar and sprinkled a small handful of the seeds into the bubbling concoction.  The roiling liquid gradually turned from bright acid green to deep red, and the smoke coming from it turned from purple to black.  Little lightning bolts jumped back and forth inside the smoke clouds, to Ianthe’s fascination.

A thought occurred to Ianthe, and she glanced up from the cauldron.  “What if I need a favor?”

Ainsley instantly tensed up, looking up at Ianthe with a careful, guarded expression.  “Why?  What do you need?”

“Nothing!  Sorry, I- I don’t need anything.  Right now, I mean.”  She waved her hand in front of her, clearing the metaphorical air between them, hoping to calm Ainsley down.  “But if I did, what would the process be for that?  You can do anything, right?”

“Oh.  It’s.  It’s, uh, it’s jus-”  She sighed, her words running together and falling to pieces as her mind dropped from full alert.  Ianthe, though, was waiting for an explanation.  “If you need...something...done, something that you can’t do, you come to me.  I’ll mix something up here, and it will happen, such as with this.”  She indicated the cauldron.  “But favors require payment.  I cannot work for free.”

Or I will pay more than I have left, she mused.

Ianthe nodded, rubbing her chin with a dark hand.  “Payment, like...money?  Do you use that out here?  I think I have some with me.”

Ainsley sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  Talking with Ianthe gave her a headache, just as often as it secretly delighted her.  Sometimes, both at once.  “Oh, you poor child...no.  I don’t deal in money, money means nothing to me.  Payment can be all sorts of things. Blood.  Luck.  Reputation.  Life.  Souls.  Time.  Thoughts.  Memories.  It depends on the nature of the favor.”

“Mmm, I see,” said Ianthe with a nod.

“And I always collect,” Ainsley declared, her voice taking on a distinct edge - one that wavered slightly despite her hoping it wouldn’t.  “I am a witch, Ianthe, and whatever favors you want me to do for you will be paid in full eventually.  I’m sure you have been told to never trust the fey, Ianthe and you should thus never trust me...unless you are desperate.  I can give you your wildest desires, but they will exact a heavy toll.”

As if on cue, the liquid in the pot boiled over, bringing forth a long hiss from the fire as it turned the flames bright blue.  The smoke spewing from the liquid was blood red, and the lightning bolts had turned black, jagged bits of midnight leaping to and fro in the clouds.

Ainsley tapped the pot with her stirring spoon, and it instantly died down, allowing her to fix her gaze on Ianthe.  She must have understood.  Please, Ianthe never ask me for anything.  There was silence for a moment as Ianthe thought, and then...

“So what if I wanted, say, a sandwich?”

Ainsley’s shoulders drooped as she realized that her words had flown right over Ianthe’s head.

“Or...oh!  I know!  Wait here!”  With that, Ianthe dashed from Ainsley’s cabin, leaving the witch alone and confused.  Still, she had a spell to finish and bottle, so she devoted her attention to that, a part of her wondering whether Ianthe was foolish or fearless.

Around ten minutes later, Ianthe reappeared and offered a bouquet of flowers to a surprised Ainsley.  The surprise came from both the gift at all, and from the flowers themselves - they were bright and cheery, and made entirely of metal with painted details.  Beautiful polished bronze roses and iron lilies, copper daisies and delicate golden sunflowers, and even a few dark belladonna buds.

“Here!  Does this count as payment?”

“It…what?  For what?”  Ainsley was about to tell Ianthe that this wasn’t how it worked, but one look at Ianthe’s wide smile and hopeful eyes shut that down right quick, and the words faded away from her lips.

“I’d like some more flowers!”  Ianthe immediately turned back to the rows and rows of mason jars, looking intently at the seeds.  “I want my garden to look as good as yours does someday, so I’d like to take some more seeds.  And I paid you in my own flowers.  Is that a fair trade?”

A gentle warm sensation rose in Ainsley’s chest, and she didn’t have the heart to tell Ianthe that no, no it wasn’t, and that she would have to collect later.

But maybe this time I won’t have to collect, a desperate thought whispered to her.  This could work out someway, right?

“Y-yes,” she mumbled to Ianthe’s eager smile.  “Yes, it is.  I’ll pick some seeds out for you.  But just this once, okay?”  I’m dangerous, Ainsley wanted to say.  I’m dangerous and tricky and I will destroy you softly, lovingly, and completely.  Go.  Go away, leave me in peace, and never speak to me again.

Instead, she said nothing, looking out over her plants and wondering which to give. As she pondered her collection, she thought back to her own first encounter with a witch.

It had been in this very wood.  She was young, much younger than she was now, perhaps by a few centuries.  She’d approached a cabin innocently, stopping to admire the rainbow of flowers that grew in the witch’s garden.  The woman herself had been tending to them, stroking their leaves and beaming down at them with a certain special kind of pride

I love your flowers!, Ainsley had said.

Thank you, the witch had replied.  They like you, too.

Ainsley had smiled wide, bending down to sniff them.  They smell amazing.

As flowers do, the witch had said. But, you must be careful, child.  I see many beautiful flowers in your future, but one of them will ruin you.

You can see my future?

The witch nodded.  Here.  She plucked and then handed to Ainsley a violet flower with large, broad leaves and heart-shaped petals.  This is for you, if you want it, but accepting it comes with a price - one you may not expect.  Do you want this flower?

Ainsley remembered reaching out for the flower after thinking for a moment, rationalizing that it was a small gift, so it must only come with a small price.

How wrong she had been.

Ianthe left soon after that, a pouch of seeds in hand and an unfathomably bright smile on her face.  As the faded memories of the centuries since that day swirled in Ainsley’s mind, she realized that in all of her time since, she’d never actually looked up the name of the flower she was given that day.  She recalled it, above almost all else, with crystal clarity.

Ainsley pulled one of her plant journals from the shelf, flipping through it with a small sense of dread. On a base level, she knew that this would not end in joy or happiness.  She knew what the name of that flower would be.  She knew before she turned the page and found the flower, one with beautiful heart-shaped purple petals and broad leaves.  She knew before she flicked her eyes down to read the description.

She knew that this was all going to end in a storm.

Viola esoterica.  Known for vibrant purple color, broad leaves, and a sweet, light fragrance.  Found in forests, elevated fields, and other areas of high rain and abundant shade.

Vlana’s routine was a little more intense, as Coma found out when they started lifting weights.  She didn’t really have an objection to that, because as much as she didn’t want to admit it, being able to literally carry her own weight was important.  Being a Guardian was a tough job, full of unusual tests and circumstances.  That she’d have to haul Vlana or Keres up from a cliff edge at some point was a relative certainty.

What she had an objection to was how goddamn attractive Vlana was.  Like, it was seriously unfair that Coma had to watch.

She had to watch as Vlana did reverse pull ups, her arm and back muscles rippling beautifully, exquisitely visible through sweat-sheened skin.

(Her throat, already parched from the workout, got drier still.)

She had to watch as Vlana did ab crunches and curls, her wonderfully toned abs and stomach calling to Coma - abs she had run her hands and tongue over, but not really gotten a complete appreciation for until this moment, flexed and tightened as they were.

She to watch as Vlana strained to finish her bench press reps, arm muscles clearly working hard, and her mind was filled with all kinds of other visions as to what those arms could (and did) do to her.

She tripped twice on the treadmill, and when Vlana got close to help Coma out with the exercises she hadn’t done before, Coma found that she couldn’t really hear Vlana, because she was too busy focusing on her not-girlfriend’s face and scent and eyes and body just look at that fucking body her thighs could crush me and I really want them to.

Vlana, to her credit, was a relatively patient teacher, though not above tossing a few pointed, flirty jabs in Coma’s direction, jabs that made Coma flush furiously.

When the workout was done, she was leaning against the wall inside the shower stall, muscles tired, aches beginning, glad for the warm water that was washing away her sweat.

Images of Vlana were still in her mind, from every angle, every pose.  Coma could not drive memories of her not-girlfriend’s workout from her mind, and her core kept getting warmer by the moment.  Sighing in frustration, she slid her fingers down between her legs, closed her eyes, and decided to relieve some of said frustration while Vlana finished her own workout.

It was pretty easy to get herself off, especially with images of a sweat-coated Vlana fresh in her mind and senses.  She slipped another finger inside as a particularly vivid memory of Vlana flexing came in, whispering Vlana’s name as she desperately tried to rub out her need as fast as she could.

The sudden swoosh of the curtain made her shriek, but a hand quickly muffled her - a familiar hand.  She was staring into familiar glowing blue eyes, and Vlana’s purple eyebrows were arched down in both amusement and mischief.  Vlana had found her, it seemed, and caught her more-or-less red handed.

“Starting without me?” she hummed, words causing Coma to shiver with desire.  “Bad girl.”

Coma made a few muffled noises of protest, likely along the line of I didn’t know and can you blame me? and please let me finish.  She inhaled deep when Vlana removed her hand, but didn’t have enough time to reply as Vlana shoved her against the wall, pressed her lips onto Coma’s, and slipped two fingers into Coma without hesitation.

It was a magical moment, with the setting sun behind her.  It was something out of a movie, that cliche moment where the female love interest shows up and they do the sexy camera pan up her legs, chest, to her head.  The whole thing would be in slow motion, with some kind of mid-2000s pop-punk song in the background to emphasize her bad girl nature, that she wasn’t like other girls.

In those movies, it always then cut to the male protagonist, gaping at her.

Cut to Ann, gaping at Makoto, feeling all sorts of new and exciting feelings.

She felt her cheeks burn the longer she stared at her stupid sexy girlfriend atop her stupid sexy bike.  More than one God I wish I was the bike thought flickered through her head, and she was frozen in place as her eyes drank in every detail about this situation.  Makoto’s gorgeous jacket.  The way she was standing.  Her hair fluttering in the wind.  The smell of exhaust, now indelibly linked with Makoto in Ann’s mind.  The way she pulled off her gloves to reveal delicate fingers and skillyfully painted fingernails, clipped very short.

She bit her lip as she looked over at Makoto, mind flooded with thoughts that she dared not vocalize in public.

Makoto turned off the bike and dismounted, kicking down the stand.  “Hey Ann,” she said, reaching back towards the small storage container.  “I got you a present.”

She popped open the hatch and pulled out a medium-sized box, bringing it over to Ann, who was still busy trying to process it.  When she stopped in front of Ann, and Ann still didn’t respond, Makoto’s grin faltered.  “What?  Is my makeup messed up?”

“Y...n-no!  No, you just, um.  God.  Wow.  Um.”  Snapping back to reality, Ann struggled to vocalize her thoughts that weren’t I want you to ride me like that motorcycle.  “A present?  For me?  Let me see!” She grabbed the box and pulled the lid off, eager for any kind of distraction to help reduce the blush from her face and keep her heart from pounding out of her chest.  As she got a look at what was inside, she was pretty sure it would work.

A gorgeous red leather jacket was neatly folded inside, the same color as her Metaverse outfit.  She picked it up out of the box and let the box fall from her hands to the floor, fully enraptured in the feel of the material, how soft but tough it felt to her fingers.  It smelled unlike anything she’d smelled before, still carrying that newness as though it had recently been cut and sewn together.  The fabric was not perfectly red, patterned with darker splotches like tree shadows on a forest floor.  A zipper ran down the middle, and two zippered breast pockets completed the jacket.

“I saw it at the shop and...it seemed like you,” Makoto said, shying away from eye contact of her own.  “And you need to be safe when we go riding, so I thought I’d pick it up for you.  Do you like it?”

It took Ann a moment to register that Makoto was even talking to her, but when she did, she couldn’t find the right words.  She instead reached out, grabbed onto Makoto’s own black leather jacket, and pulled her girlfriend into a deep, grateful kiss, letting that say everything she wanted to.

“Approach vector set,” Esper said from his spot in her consciousness.

“Thanks, Esper.  Transmat us down when we’re in range.”

“Of course.”  She felt the ship alter course as Mars started getting larger and larger.

She flipped on her fireteam comms.  “You two, follow me in.  We’ll descend and transmat in a distance away, approaching on foot.”

“Why aren’t we just dropping in right on top of them?”  Keres.  Practical as ever.

“Because it’s a tank, Keres.”  

“Have you not killed a tank?”

“Not this kind, Vlana.”

“Weak.”

The three ships broke the atmosphere of Mars, rushing towards the surface of the red planet.  Swooping low and darting in and out of the canyons, they just barely dipped within range of the Cabal net before blasting back off into orbit, leaving the guns with nothing to track.

In the wake of their close call, three Guardians now huddled on the rust-red sands of the Rubicon Wastes.  Ahead of them was one of the many Cabal defense points.

The three Hunters slid down behind a rock outcropping, doing their best to stay out of sight, for now.  Keres pulled her sniper rifle from her back and brought it up to bear, peering at the fortifications and noting defense points.  Or, that’s what Coma figured she was doing.

“At least ten, maybe fifteen.  Mostly Legionaries, maybe a Centurion or two.  We going in there?” Vlana asked, moving her rifle away and glancing down at the crouched Coma. Vlana was busy peering around the corner.

Coma nodded.  “If we’re going to put a bullet in Ta’aurc’s brain-” “Do they have brains?” “-then we’re going to need to know where he is,” Coma said, ignoring Vlana’s interjection.  “Cabal outposts have links to the defense net.  Esper should be able to inject a temporary spike in there, giving us access for a few minutes - enough time to locate the man.” “Then what are we waiting for?” Vlana said, the edge in her voice too eager for Coma’s tastes.

“What?  Vlana, wait, do-”

Coma’s words were too late - Vlana had materialized her Sparrow and was jetting towards the outpost, whooping all the while.  Coma and Keres could only watch from their original vantage points as Vlana crashed her Sparrow into one of the Legionaries, the boom echoing across the Martian landscape as she leapt off of it and plunged her knife into a different Legionary.

Coma heaved a sigh as Esper materialized a sniper rifle in place of her shotgun, and she took position beside Keres, who was facing her.  “Don’t even start.  And wipe that smirk off your face,” Coma muttered, raising the sniper rifle to her eye.

“I said nothing, and I’m not smirking.”

Then, after a few shots each: “I just find it funny tha-” “I said don’t!”

The good news was that Valus Ta’aurc was inside the Warbase that this outpost was attached to.  The bad news was that an entire legion of the Siege Dancers sat between Ta’aurc and the fireteam.

Vlana considered the Siege Dancers outnumbered.  Keres figured it was a fair fight.  Coma was just wondering how she got the worst luck in the galaxy, with a bloodthirsty girlfriend and an overconfident best friend.

It didn’t help that her two companions seemed to disagree on everything.

“All I’m saying,” Vlana shouted as she pulled her knife out of a Psion’s neck, “is that scout rifles suck when it comes to actual stopping power!  They’re the small round size of an auto rifle mixed with the range of a pulse rifle, and they do jack shit for telling a Minotaur to fuck off!”

“And you’re still wrong,” Keres replied as she squeezed off two shots, putting a dime-sized hole into the heads of two approaching Legionaries, “because if you know how to aim right, you don’t need more than one bullet.”

“Look, if you can send one at them, why not send a much larger one at them?”  Vlana demonstrated the point with a shot from her hand cannon, which blew a nice hole into the chest of an unshielded Centurion that was jetpacking towards them.  It spiraled through the air, unguided, black liquid spewing from its torso.

“Because I don’t need a larger one,” Keres shot back as she tossed a grenade over a rock.  The telltale blue light sweep of an arcbolt charge was briefly visible before a lightning bolt leapt from nowhere, turning two Psions into ash.

“Can you both just shut up?!”  Coma was hiding behind a rock, shield recharging.  A Legionary suddenly dove around the corner, and Coma fired three shots from her Ace Of Spades, sending the foe to the ground in a heap of black-stained metal.

“No!” yelled the other two simultaneously.  At that, both of them stopped their carnage and looked across the room at the other, and for the first time since they had met, Coma felt a sense of camaraderie between them.

Verra had materialized out of a tree, running away from a particularly large Grimm, and as a consequence she hadn’t been watching where she was going.  This, in return, resulted in Verra tangled up in a heap with her mystery now-partner, both of them collapsed on the forest floor, and both of them rubbing their contact points.

Ever polite, Verra pushed herself up onto her arms and tried to extricate herself from the mess, stammering out apologies with every breath.  “I’m sorry!  I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going, I’m really sorry, I…”

She trailed off from the first sight of her newfound partner - the long white rabbit ears and red eyes were hard to miss.  Her hair was short-cut and blonde, and her high cheekbones and full lips only added to her soft features.

Cute...

Verra saw the confusion and apprehension in the girl’s eyes, and she hurriedly cleared her throat, extending a hand to her.  She took it and pulled herself up, and Verra offered her a kind, crooked smile.  The girl, though, just kept on staring.  Verra was used to that - her coloration and scars had that reaction.  Her ears twitched slightly.

That brought back a memory - a passing one, of this girl being rather cruelly teased by some of their future classmates only a day ago.  She’d been passing through, hurried along by the line, and she’d only caught a few snatches of conversation.  The word “prey” stuck out loud and clear.  Maybe it was her name?

No.  No sane person would name their faunus child prey.

“...well, I guess we’re partners,” Verra said, pulling back the hood of her cloak to fully reveal her hair and face.  “What’s your name?”

“...Prier,” she said, quiet, timid.  Verra had to strain her ears to hear her.  “Prier Escuro.”

“Prier.  That’s a cute name.  I’m Verra, Verra Foraoise.”

There was a second of stunned, gawking silence from Prier’s side before she swooped in and tightly embraced Verra.  Her muscle memory kicked in, and she put her arms around Prier as much as she could while her brain tried to get over the surprise.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Prier,” she said, gently patting the girl’s back, “but can we get moving?  There’s Grimm about, and I do not want to get caught by surprise.”

Sheepishly, Prier pulled back from the embrace, looking for all the world as though she was about to cry.  The sight of her nearly broke Verra’s heart in two, but she offered Prier a kind smile.  “Partners.”

“Partners,” Prier confirmed, and she too smiled.

It was too beautiful a smile.

I am going to make damn sure no one ever teases her again, Verra promised. --- WHAM

“Oof!”

“Again.”

Sparring was never an easy activity, but it was necessary.  Prier’s ranged combat was admirable, but up close, she was an easier target - something Verra was working hard to  correct.

The rabbit faunus was currently laying down on the floor on her back after Verra had casually flipped the girl over her back and smacked her onto the padding.  Now, Verra was offering Prier her hand to pull her up.  Prier just glared at it for a second, but she eventually reached out and hauled herself to her feet with Verra’s assistance.  She took in a breath, let it out, then walked back to her position as Verra did the same.

They stood a distance apart, enough for one of them to work to close to gap before contact was made.  Verra lowered her hips and settled down into a defensive stance, one hand flush with her neck, the other with her waist.  Prier raised both to be higher, a more classic boxer-style stance.  Both of them were in workout clothes - a hoodie and sweatpants for Prier, and a sports bra with shorts for Verra.

“Ready when you are.”

Prier focused herself, her body rising and falling as she slowly breathed in and out.  This was a learning process.  She had to get the bruises to see the results.

Then, she pushed off.

With unnatural speed, she crossed the space between them.  Verra found herself having to think faster and faster every time - the rabbit faunus that was her partner had very, very powerful legs, that she used to her full advantage.

Too fast for a roundhouse.  Wrong angle for a snap kick.  Body slam is out, she’s tried that already, along with a simple chest punch and a slide kick.  She’ll probably go for something with her legs, maybe a step-in and a sweep.  That looks right, she’s moving low, moving her hands.

Prier’s actual motions thus came as a surprise - the girl wiped her fingers on her brow and flicked it at Verra, a few beads of sweat coming at her.  Too late, Verra put two and two together.

The blast took her off her feet, throwing her a few feet backwards and staggering her, senses scrambled.  Prier followed up with a pounce, dragging Verra to the ground in a combat roll for domination, and it ended with Verra on her back, Prier straddling her with a fist pulled back and ready to punch.

There was a moment between them with their faces close together, both breathing heavy, sweaty, exhausted, flushed - but happy.

“Good move,” Verra said with a smile.  Prier returned it as she relaxed, then she stood, offering Verra a hand up. --- Even the best doctors got sick, and Prier was no exception.

A cold had been travelling through Beacon Academy, and it had finally made it’s way to Verra’s team.  Willow had gotten it first (which was a sight, seeing the normally energetic girl confined to her bed and aching and whining), and Prier had picked it up from her.  The past few days had been spent with Verra’s partner bedridden from aches, fevers, and a hell of a runny nose.

Verra, fortunately, was not someone to parade about the irony of the best medic in Beacon getting sick - rather, she spent all her time caring for her best friend, bringing her food, liquids, and tending to her every need and request.  She monitored her medicine, changed up the blankets, and most importantly, shooed Willow from the room if she was being too loud.  Prier needed sleep.

This was compounded by the fact that Prier’s sleep had been restless for as long as Verra had known her, filled with stirs and noises and the occasional yelp as she awoke.  Being sick only made this situation worse, to the point of waking from her nightmares with a full on shout.  Having woken herself from her nightmare, Prier began to urgently, feverishly look around, drawing in on herself in an attempt to hide from whatever specters still graced her mind.  Her eyes darted around the room, and she soon curled up into a little ball, shivering and whimpering.

Verra was upon her in an instant, sliding onto the bed and gently embracing the shaking girl, pressing her lips against Prier’s hair.  “It’s okay,” she whispered as she gently stroked Prier’s back with her fingers.  “You’re safe, Prier, you’re safe.  You’re here with me.  You’re okay.”

Prier tried to speak, but nothing came except a gagging cough as she choked on her own breath, caught between inhaling and exhaling that was made worse by her panicking.  She flailed around, her hands looking for something solid that wasn’t her own body to grab, and one of Verra’s met hers.

She entwined their fingers immediately and pulled Verra’s arm back into her ball, holding it close to her chest as if she was afraid of slipping away.  Verra comfortingly squeezed Prier’s soft fingers as she soothed the girl, ushering away the monsters and terrible feelings of fear and replacing them with soft, gentle words and familiar feelings.

Under Verra’s care, Prier stilled, her breathing returning to normal as she chased the remnants of her nightmares away.  Her grip on Verra stayed tight, and Verra didn’t entertain the thought of leaving as Prier held her tight.  Cold or not, Verra was going to stay here as long as she needed.

“Thank you,” Prier whispered, voice rough and cracking, throaty from her sleep.

“Of course,” Verra whispered back.

She didn’t move the rest of the night, nor did she let go of Prier’s hand. --- They never intended to start sleeping in the same bed.  At least, not consciously.

Prier’s nightmares meant that Verra would calm her, waking up and sliding into Prier’s bed to soothe the girl with gentle touches and peaceful words.  She would then fall asleep there, sharing a bed with her best friend, and the two would naturally entwine as they slept.  On more than one occasion, Verra would awaken to find an arm wrapped around Prier’s torso, her head resting on the girl’s chest.  Sometimes she was the pillow, with Prier’s face buried in Verra’s neck or on her stomach.

Every time one of them awoke, if they had nowhere to be, they would merely go back to sleep, smiling.

One night, Prier climbed up into Verra’s bed to talk to her, one of their frequent quiet conversations.  Eventually, Prier dozed off to sleep right there, lying next to Verra in her bed.  Verra didn’t even consider forcing her out, so they shared a bed that night intentionally for the first time.

Every night after that, they were sleeping together.  They would change beds every now and then, but Willow started to joke that they could call up maintenance and get them to haul out the extra one they didn’t need.  Prier and Verra instead pushed their beds together, forming a much larger sleeping surface that really let them stretch out.

Falling asleep next to Prier was easy - it was like Verra had been doing it her whole life.  They always slept in the embrace of the other, working past the initial adjustment period of always having someone else in the bed.  Sometimes Verra would nestle Prier in her arms, dotting her neck and head with lazy kisses.  Sometimes Prier would hold Verra, their fingers entwined together, her arms occasionally pulling Verra in closer, which made Verra giggle.

Above all else, it simply felt right. --- It wasn’t a date, they told Willow and Fallon before they headed out.

It wasn’t, they insisted as they held hands and walked through one of Vale’s beautiful parks.

It really wasn’t, they said as they sat down at a cafe and ordered dinner together.

“You’ve never played?” Verra asked, making sure she heard Prier right.

Prier nodded, shrugging.  “I didn’t have a lot of friends.  I had...one, really.  And I didn’t really know I could go onto the net and find people to play with.”  She dug her spoon back into her sundae, scooping up another bite of ice cream.

Verra nodded knowingly.  “I know what you mean, but I found those people.  We stopped a year or two ago, but I’d love to run Hunters & Horrors for you.  It’s a lot of fun with the right group, and I know how to run games like that.”

“I’d like that,” Prier said with a gentle smile.  “I’ve always wanted to, I just...never could.”

“We’ll find a game for you,” assured Verra.  “What kind of character do you want to play?”

“Oh, I...I don’t know.  I haven’t thought that far.  I never even thought I’d get the chance to play.”

Verra grinned wide, reaching a hand to hold Prier’s free one.  “Well, what kind of character do you like in shows?  Maybe you could play someone like them.”

That took Prier a few minutes of thinking and thoughtful scooping of her ice cream.  “...someone brave and strong, who isn’t worn down by the world.  She’d be clever, too, kind and empathic.  She’d be able to protect to ones she loved, and she would be loved in return.”

She took another bite, but this time, some whipped cream stuck on her lip.  Verra, who had been listening intently, giggled and gestured to her mouth.  “Sorry.  I was listening, I promise, I like the character, but you have a...you got...hang on,” she said to Verra’s confused looks and pointing.

She leaned in, getting closer and she scooped the whipped cream off with her thumb, wiping a few more times just to be sure.  “There.  All...better.”

She then became uncomfortably aware of just how close she was to Prier.  Her hand hadn’t left Prier’s face her, her fingers lingering on the girl’s neck, her thumb close to Prier’s lips.  They’d been close before, of course, but not like this.

Not like they were about to…

Should I?

Verra’s hesitation gave Prier time to clear her throat, and the moment was broken as both of them sat back.  Verra wiped her finger off on a napkin.

“So...someone like you?” Verra said with a soft, genuine smile.  Prier’s flung napkin doinked her gently in the face shortly after, and they both laughed, the tension gone.

Gone for now, at least. --- The first time they kissed was momentous, but only just.

It was a Saturday afternoon during winter holiday.  Fallon and Willow were out shopping in Vale, buying gifts for the upcoming solstice festival.  Fresh-fallen snow blanketed the ground outside, turning Beacon’s normally colorful campus into a sea of white.

Verra and Prier were inside their dorm room, a 600 puzzle spread out on the floor between them.  When completed, it was supposed to show a map of Atlas.  At the moment, though, it was a jumble of pieces on the floor, only about a quarter complete.  Fortunately, they had nowhere to be, and a few weeks left before the new term started, so it was really just a matter of time.

They’d been sharing beds for so long by now that they had gotten used to the other’s daily schedules and mannerisms, adjusting their own to fit.  They were rarely seen outside of the other’s company, going to meals, sparring, and out to Vale together.  Even when not trying to spend time with the other, they were close by, like cats subtly following their owners around a house.

They cuddled often, kissed each other’s head and hands and necks with affection, and laced their fingers together without a second thought.  They were finishing each other’s sentences and could predict the other’s reactions.

Sometimes, their hands wandered up an arm and onto a torso.  Prier would gently trail her fingers over Verra’s abs, lightly brushing her petite chest, saying nothing.  Verra would sometimes kiss lower than Prier’s neck, dipping down into her collarbone, or kissing longer and harder than what was normally platonic.

The real question was who would make that final push.

Prier was leaning over the puzzle, as was Verra.  They were both focused on their work, heads inches apart as they knelt and stared down at the pieces.  Quiet, ambient music was playing on their in-room stereo, and it was pleasantly warm inside - both of them were in light clothes.  The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over everything, and giving the puzzle an off coloration.

Verra glanced up to see Prier still staring down at the pieces, and that’s when it hit her.

I love her.

The way Prier was scrunching up her nose in concentration was adorable, and it lead Verra to think of all the other things she liked about Prier - her temperament, her concern, her quiet, her deep feelings, her skills and sense of humor, the way she cared endlessly for her teammates and friends.  Prier, who never let Verra forget how valued she was, was beloved.

I. Love. Her.

And I really want to do this now.

“Prier?” She said, quietly, gently.

Concentration broken, Prier glanced up, confused.  “Mmm?”

When Verra pressed their lips together, Prier didn’t seem surprised, nor did she hesitate.  She leaned into it, bringing her knees further under her so she could support herself better.  A shock ran through Verra as the kiss, the kiss that was always supposed to happen, the world’s most natural and necessary and overdue kiss, was returned, with affection.  Prier was into it, as evidenced by the way her hand wrapped around Verra’s back to hold her closer.

This wasn’t the kind of desperate, passionate, hot-tempered kiss Verra had read about in books and fanfictions.  This wasn’t a needy kiss, the kind that worry brings, the kind that reassures.  This kiss was normal, in all of the right ways.  It felt right.  It felt completely natural, like it was something that they had always been doing, the evolution of every moment of their friendship from the first time they had met.

When they finally parted, Verra was a little breathless, but she was excited, giddy, happier than she’d ever been.  Prier was smiling, eyes shining, ears perked up, face red.

“...I love you too, Verra,” she finally whispered, “but can I finish putting this piece in?”

Verra laughed, kissed Prier’s forehead and then let her lover go.  “All right.  But when you’re done, we’re moving to my bed, and I’m going to kiss you for as long as I wa-”

Prier cut her off as she tackled Verra, pinning the red-haired girl down and cutting off her joyful laughter by kissing her, another kiss that felt as natural as waking up.

This is the passionate one, Verra thought as she eagerly returned the kiss.  This one, I like.

This girl, I like.

Lena brought Angela food so often than Angela was feeling a little guilty about it - she’d be working, there’d be a knock on her lab door, it’d open, and then the smells would hit her before the sights did.  Before they’d started dating, Lena had mentioned she liked cooking, but Angela had not been aware of the degree to which Lena liked cooking.

Lunches in the lab, idle chatter, laughter, fresh fruit and pressed sandwiches.  Dinners in Lena’s room, just the two of them, maybe some wine, candles, romance.  Breakfasts, made bright and early on Saturdays, the bacon smell clinging to the air in Angela’s room for hours.

She was, without a doubt, being spoiled rotten by her girlfriend.  Angela could barely stomach going to the mess hall nowadays.  It wasn’t the same, and when Lena was gone, Angela had to make do herself.  Her attempts at cooking had often literally gone up in smoke.

Still, she wanted to try, at least once.

Unfortunately, the fire alarm had other plans.

---

She was furiously waving a towel at the smoke detector, trying in vain to ward off the offending byproduct of her attempt at frying up some bacon.  The eggs were sitting blackened in another skillet, next to the still-frozen-yet-also-charred sausages.  The room was hazy from the multiple burned foodstuffs, and Angela herself was harried, sweaty, and furious at both herself and the inanimate objects she’d tried to prepare.

With a frustrated sigh, she threw the towel at the smoke detector, sat down next to the oven, and curled up into a ball, pulling her knees up close to her chest.  Of course.  Of course this would happen when she tried to cook for her beloved.  Nothing was ever simple when it came to the kitchen, and she just wanted to do something nice for Lena, because Lena always did such nice things for her, and-

“Doc?” Lena.

Angela buried her face further into her arms, shaking her head.

“Doc, you okay?” Please leave.

Another shake of her head.  Of course the one person she didn’t want to see this would find her.

“Luv, it’s fine.  C’mon.  Look at me.”

Gradually, reluctantly, Angela looked up to find Lena’s gently smiling face in front of her own.  Lena was crouching, the smoke was gone, and the kitchen was quiet.

It still smelled like burned, though.

“I’m sorry, Lena, I tried to cook breakfast for you but it...every time I start I just lose track of it all, and it got overwhelming, and I-”

“It’s okay!  Doc...Angie, it’s fine.  I burned my first breakfast too.”

She did?  Angela blinked a few times, processing that idea.  But she’s so good…

“We all gotta start somewhere.  I made plenty of mistakes, luv, I didn’t just pop out of the womb knowin’ how to poach an egg or serve up a good fry.”

Of course she didn’t.  Obviously all skills were acquired, learned, practiced.  Angela didn’t become one of the best doctors in the world naturally.  Lena wasn’t an ace pilot at age three.

“O-of course, Lena, I just…”  I can culture vaccines in my sleep, but somehow cooking bacon is beyond me?  “It’s...I don’t know, it’s so frustrating, and everything piles up, and I...I wanted to make it perfect for you.”

“C’mon.  Upsy-daisy.”  Lena pulled Angela to her feet, the doctor begrudgingly going along with it.  They surveyed Angela’s breakfast attempts, which looked as bad as Angela remembered them being.  Angela glanced over at Lena expecting a worried, disapproving face, only to find Lena smiling wide.  “You were makin’ all this...for me?” Angela nodded.  “Yes, I...believe I may have taken on too much.”

Lena giggled, a musical, mirthful, beautiful giggle that was just as bright and cheery as the girl herself.  “Well, lemme show you how.  Looks like you bought a lot of supplies, good thinkin’.” She grabbed an empty bowl and set it on the counter, then reached over and moved the eggs close by.  She then cleared the burned food (and the pans) from the stovetop, making a fresh space for her to cook in.

“Now, the first thing to do i-”

Her sentence went unfinished as Angela grabbed Lena, whirled her around, and pulled the shorter girl into a loving kiss.  Lena’s surprise and sudden tension melted away as their lips pressed together, and she set the eggs back down onto the counter to wrap her arms around Angela, who was determined to show her affection in the most obvious and frankly satisfying way.

When they finally parted for air, Lena grinned, and Angela grinned back.  “I love you,” Angela murmured, fingers gently stroking Lena’s cheeks.

“Luv you too, doc,” Lena whispered back.  “...now can I show you how to make a proper full breakfast?”

Angela giggled, then let Lena go.  “Please do,” she said, watching with interest.

“Guardian,” Zavala greeted Coma as she walked into the Vanguard.

“Commander Zavala, sir,” she said with a brief salute.  “You wanted to see me?”

“Technically, I wanted to see you, but apparently I’ve exceeded my quota of intercom calls for the day,” Cayde-6 piped up from his place on the right side of the table.  “Used up the last one asking who stole my Sparrow.  I’m not mad, I just want to know, so I can high five them.”

“We did.  New reports have come in from Mars and they’re not promising, so we’ve got a task for you and your Fireteam.  The Mercury group is back, and Keres with them.”

A wide smile broke out over Coma’s face.  At last, she was back, and for good this time.  As much as she’d enjoyed being with Vlana, it wasn’t the same.  “I picked up a third a while back, so we’re good to go.  What’s the job?”

He brought up a map of the Martian landscape with a wave of his hand, tapping a part of the hologram with a finger.  A circular indicator appeared on the map, with a few lines of information next to it.  “Whether we wanted it or not, we’re at war with the Cabal, so it’s time to start acting like it.  We’ve decided to start taking out their command structure, and first on the list is Valus Ta’aurc.  Our intel suggests he commands the Seige Dancers.  I believe you’ve had a few run-ins with them.”

Coma grimaced, but nodded.  “Tough bastards.  They love their weaponry.”

“He and his troops command an Imperial Land Tank just outside of the Rubicon base.  He’s very well protected, but with the right team and some good firepower, we can punch through those defenses and take him out, throwing the region into chaos and breaking their grip on Freehold.”  As he spoke, points on the map lit up, and the Freehold region was highlighted at the end of it.

When he was done, he glanced past the map, at Coma, eyes fixed on her.

There’s a power in that Awoken gaze.

“Think you’re up to the task?”

She nodded without a second’s hesitation.  This was all about killing, and if there was anything she, Vlana, and Keres were all good at, it was that.

A Gunslinger, a Bladedancer, and a Nightstalker all walk into a Land Tank…

“We’ll get right to it, sir,” she said with another salute.  “I’ll report back in when we’re done.”

“We’ll be waiting, Guardian.  Everything you need has been sent to your Ghost.  Dismissed.”

---

“Keres, this is Vlana, my...friend.  Vlana, this is Keres, my partner since...well, we were revived.”

Keres looked like she was about to take Vlana’s knife from her sheath and ram it through her skull.  Vlana was staring at Keres like she was going to shove a tripmine grenade right up her ass.

“So she’s replaced me?” Keres asked, tone as cold as the Mars poles.

“What? No!  I just...we kind of-”

“Fucked,” Vlana said, casual despite her hardcore glaring at Keres.  “A lot.”

Keres rolled her eyes, then folded her arms, glancing over to Coma.  “She’s so tactful, I can see why you like her.”

“At least I didn’t abandon her,” Vlana said, tone annoyingly singsong.  Keres’ eyes widened, and she lunged over at Vlana, aiming to land a punch.

“HEY!”  Coma darted in between them, shoving Keres back and rounding on Vlana.  “She didn’t abandon me.  She had a job to do, and I missed her.  I don’t hold it against her, and I’m glad she’s back.

“And before you get too smug,” she said as she turned to face Keres, “Vlana’s my friend.  And...significantly more than that, in some ways.  She’s important to me, just as you are.”  Glancing between them both, she frowned, crossing her arms.  “So knock it off and play nice.  You both love guns, talk about that.  Whatever you need to do, work it out, because we have a job to do.”

Keres and Vlana continued to burn the air between them with their glances, but Keres eventually looked away, huffing in annoyance.  Still, she kept silent, as did Vlana.

“Now...our target,” Coma said as she nodded to Esper, “is Valus Ta’aurc.”  Esper flicked on his holographic projector, summoning a photograph of Ta’aurc from nowhere and displaying it within view of all three.  “He’s the commander of the Siege Dancers, and he has an iron grip on the Freehold ruins.  We’re going in there to break said grip.”

“Smash and grab, or is he our target?” Vlana asked.

“He is.  Find him, kill him.  The defenses are heavy, and the Cabal are too entrenched to risk a full assault, so they’re sending in a single Fireteam - us.”

“Don’t suppose we can camp out on a nearby rock with a sniper rifle and wait for him to show his face?” Keres asked, only slightly joking.

Coma shook her head.  “He’s commanding from inside a massive land tank close to the Rubicon firebase.  We’ll have to make our way inside to kill him, and we’ll probably have to wade through his majors to do so.  Pack heavy, and pack for close range - there’s some tight corridors in this ship.”

“Tight for us,” said Keres as she pulled her Hung Jury from her back, examining it, “or tight for Cabal?”

“Tighter than you?” Vlana said, a cheeky smile on her face.  Keres rolled her eyes as Coma flushed.

“For Cabal.  Still, expect to be in their faces.  Vlana’s deadly with that knife and I’ve been wanting to try out this bow, which leaves Bladedancer for you, Keres.  Good with you?”  Keres nodded.  “I’ll take point.  Vlana’s beside me, and Keres is the rear.”

“Fine with me,” Keres said.  “I work better at mid-range anyway.”