h3artsablaze

A moan slips from Atem's lips as he is pulled downwards, the sound quickly swallowed by his mirror. It was an odd feeling, to submit before yourself. As if he were kneeling in prayer to worship the god flame that burned within him. They were one and the same, and yet so incredibly different.

Atem had long ago learned the value of patience, but he had also tasted the tantalizing reward of moving quickly, of heading straight for a single goal. This version of himself had settled on the former, forcing him to slow down and work for that which he desires. It is frustrating, but in a way that seared through his body.

"When I came to save Yuugi, I was gone for all of five minutes. Five minutes! That is nowhere near the decades you are asking me to abscond with!" His voice is rising in volume, and he has to force himself back down to a reasonable level. He was just so infuriating.

"I sealed myself in that puzzle with the source of all evil, Seto. This place was safe because I held the danger with me. Whether you believe me or not is of no import. I have a duty, and you simply accusing me of lying is no way to dissuade me from it."

He falls silent then, a new question burning his tongue with its curiosity.

"Yes, and now this so-called source of all evil is dead and sealed. By your hands, according to yours and Yuugi's account," he counters, turning to level Atem with a cold look. It would never fail to embitter him that he had not been privy to those final moments, their final duel. The thought of it had haunted him for years, driving him to unlock the mysteries of science that would allow him to reach this place.

Crossed arms and a level stare meet Atem's question, Seto's face impassive and unreadable. What reasons did he have to bring Atem back to the world of the living? Even he does not fully know, does not understand why he feels such an emptiness inside him when he thinks of living the rest of his life without ever getting to match wits with this man again.

"How can it claim my life if it never had it?" He sets his cup down carefully on the seat beside him, and rises to his feet. "You seem to forget exactly who I am here, Seto." His voice hardens, but he does not raise it, tempering his anger in an effort to maintain diplomacy in the conversation. "This is more than a place where I simply reside. I am more than a mere ruler. I am the walls of this city, I am the only thing that protects them. Or have you forgotten that you stand in the presence of a god, and not just a king?"

What use are gods when mortal technology has allowed him to traverse dimensions and reach death itself?

Snarling as he turns and paces away, he strides toward the edge of their little sandy oasis and crosses his arms, staring out over the rooftops of this recreation of Atem's original home. Ever a problem solver, he feels as though they have had this conversation a hundred times over the last few days, and he is no closer to finding an answer now than he was when he broached the subject to Atem in preparation for their duel. Normally if there was a problem he found insurmountable, he needed only to research and experiment until he found a solution for it.

But here in this place, technology could no longer solve his problems.

They are shaded beneath the limbs of swaying palms, the gentle breeze casting ripples across the pool of water beside them. Seto is a sight to behold, his brown hair tussled from the desert winds. He is dressed in the garb of Atem's ancient society, but the technological crown still sits atop his head, the one thing the pharaoh could not convince him to discard, even for a moment. Atem was not stupid, he knew what the device was for, at least partially, judging by how often Seto was reaching up with a look of annoyance as he flicked it off.

"Perhaps I just wanted to see your handsome face," he teases, leaning back on one hand, a glass of wine swirling gently in the other. He takes a sip, carefully watching Seto's face as he continues to speak. "I know you are still waiting on my answer, but I'm afraid I don't have one yet that would satisfy you. Leaving here is...complicated."

Seto had asked Atem to return with him, to come back to Domino and life the life he had never gotten to have. But the reasons Seto gave for him to leave were all reasons he had to stay. Why should he abandon his kingdom, his people, for a life he never even had? If destiny was bullshit and he was supposed to pick his own path, why would he not choose his job, his purpose? He was Horus, Ra, both of them and none of them. Who else could take over for him?

That, or he has finally discovered some long-buried mote of patience within himself. But it does not last for long. It never does.

Lifting the goblet in his hand to his lips, he drinks long and deep of it, the drink still tasting foul to his tongue. Yet alcohol was seemingly an everyday part of life here in this mimickry of the ancient world, where clean drinking water and the wonders of the modern world had yet to even be dreamed of.

Staring into his cup, he rotates his wrist to swirl the liquid within, a sour expression on his so-called handsome face. Blue eyes flash with a hint of that buried irritation as they meet Atem's, and his normally deep, commanding voice stays soft as he murmurs, "Was once not enough? Must the past claim not one life but two?"

The nails on the back of his scalp send shivers down his spine, and he practically purrs under her ministrations. There's a warm feeling that runs through his body, gathering like a fire in the pit of his stomach. He tears his mouth from her gentle kisses to bury his face in her neck as a growl rumbles deep in his throat, his teeth dragging across the gentle skin of her collarbone. He is careful not to break the skin with his fangs, despite the primal urge to mark her as his, to see those droplets of red that screamed her vulnerability at him.

And this blonde, soft and plaint beneath him, was his, his to love and to treasure and to please. And that's exactly what he intends to do, making his way down her chest and abdomen, leaving a trail of fang nipped kisses in his wake as he moves. He pauses when he reaches the bones of her hips, tracing their outline with his tongue, supplementing the moments between with tiny kisses and nips.

Lucy sighs and shivers under his gentle kisses, loving the way he grumbles against her skin, always trying to hold back when all she wants is for him to let go. Her nails scratch gently against the nape of his neck and she tugs playfully at his hair, but he slips through her grasp when the teeth come out. Gasping quietly, her grip loosens enough that he slips free, and she arches into him as he continues down her body, teeth dragging across her skin as he kisses his way down her body.

"Natsu~" she whines, cheeks flushing with color as he laves his tongue over the indentations of her hips. His mouth is so hot, like fire across her skin, and as his heat grows without, her own grows within. Desire rears its head within her and she shivers beneath him, unable to sit still while he takes his pleasure of her. Fingers dig into her palm as she watches him with eyes dark with desire. "I want to touch too..."

The sun had long gone to rest and the interior of the inn room they had acquired was dim, the only light coming from the bright moonlight spilling in through the lace-curtained window. They had been on the road for a few days now, the guild and their friends long behind them. Happy was busy with Charle, so it was just the two of them. The opportunity to spend some time together had been too good to pass up, so Lucy had grabbed a B-rank mission off the board and they had set off. Renowned mages though they may be, there was an irresistibly familiar comfort in taking on small missions.

As oblivious as Natsu could be at times, he had not missed that this mission presented some much-needed private time for the two of them. They had been dating quite a while now, but rarely found the time to enjoy time to themselves. They had booked the only room left at the pub, and for once the single bed did not bother Lucy at all.

"Mm, should I?" Zhongli hummed, regarding the woman in front of him through the steam pouring off his tea. The prime of the adepti was currently lounging on a settee in the morning sun, a pot of freshly brewed tea taking up the space between them. The tea had been a rather extravagant gift from the Fatui harbinger, one which the former archon had not hesitated to use for entertaining his most esteemed guest - the Traveler herself.

It was a tea made from rare ingredients which could only be picked from Qingyun Peak during the height of autumn, and few mortals were allowed the privilege of walking amongst the Adepti's hidden peaks. It was a blend suited for the entertainment of the rich and famous, and one which he was sure had cost the Harbinger a good deal of Mora. He had chosen it because Lumine was one of his favorite guests to entertain, and the best guests deserved only the best teas. But, he supposed, annoying Childe was a welcome side benefit.

He had been out on patrol near Vimara Village when Paimon had come flying out of the underbrush, wailing something or other about her blonde companion getting caught in one of the hunters' traps. Tighnari had calmed her just enough to lead him back to the traveler, picturing the bloody mess that some of the more common traps might have reduced the heroine to, only to find that she had been caught by something far more common than a metal bear trap.

A simple rope trap, hidden under a pile of leaves, had bested the heroine of Sumeru. Dangling from the boughs of one towering tree, the blonde swayed precariously in the warm breeze.

The wind sighed through the branches of the sandbearer tree above them, the afternoon sun a welcome and warm reprieve from the chilliness in the autumn air. Zhongli stood tall and serene as he gazed out over the ruins of Guili Plains, the rolling sea of grasses a distant cry from the wartorn landscape where he had last seen the god of dust, Guizhong.

"I suppose, by modern terms, you might have called her that," Zhongli said quietly, a faraway look in his eyes. The past always weighed heavily on his soul, but as ever, he shared his memories freely with the star traveler - his last hope of evading erosion. "You remind me of her... She had an indomitable spirit, her kindness boundless. She loved this land and its people, and wanted nothing more than to create a safe haven for them. Guizhong was a quiet soul, never given to bouts of anger, and was a fair and just god to the people of Liyue..."

"If not for her..." his expression twists, amusement warring with anguish in his eyes. The weight of millennia presses in, choking the words in his throat, and he swallows uncomfortably. The words come out tight, solemn in their weight and finality. "Without Guizhong's influence, I doubt that I would be remembered as the just and wise god of contracts. I was young and hot-headed, the prime of the adepti... Over our time together, she taught me temperance and wisdom. She taught me what it meant to rule a people such as ours. I may have become archon in her stead, but she would have been more suited to it..."

Natsu grins, not falling for her feigned act of ignorance, and takes the opportunity to climb over her, pushing her down onto the small bed beneath them in a way that was gentle, yet made his intentions quite clear.

Sparks dance across his hand as he runs his fingers across her hips, gently circling the bone that juts out from the hem of her skirt. He leans in to kiss her, pressing his lips gently to hers and slowly moving his hand upwards across the bare skin of her torso. She always wore such short tops, and while he loved that he got to show her off anytime they went anywhere, right now this body was all his.

She was all his.

Lucy laughs softly as he pushes her onto her back, giving no resistance. The moon shining through the window limns him in silver, and she smiles up at him beatifically as she allows her arms to come to rest on the pillow above her head. There was no use pretending she didn't know exactly what he had in mind.

"So impatient..." she tsks just before his lips brush against her own. He's a solid weight above her, keeping her hips pinned in place as he explores her as he desires. She opens for him just as she knows he wants, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep him close as he tries to back away.

"Pff, what? Me?" Sakura asks, looking at Naruto skeptically. They're sitting on the edge of the bridge overlooking the koi pond near her house, trailing their toes in the cool water. It's late summer, the evening is warm, and the distant sound of festivalgoers accompanies the crickets' constant chirping. Green eyes take in the sight of him in his yukata, hair mussed from a night of drinking with their old classmates, and she smiles at him with real warmth behind her eyes. "I don't know, Naruto... I don't think that a bar is my kind of scene."

As much as she would have loved to spend the evening with all of them, she had not. A million responsibilities were always calling her name, and the pressures of being the hokage's star student were catching up to her. She had spent the night in, studying, and had only came out once the festival started because Naruto had shown up at her doorstep, tipsy and charming with his bouquet of late summer wildflowers, and practically demanded she come out.

Sols turns his attention back outward, to the creature in front of him, trying not to compare too harshly her own life to those of the true elves. It wasn't her fault, after all. The Dalish were simply a product of a failure they could never hope to be strong enough to repair. "Not only are you the Herald of Andraste, you are elvhen, and a mage," he comments, when she speaks of wishing to return to her clan. "The shem will never deign to allow you out of their sight." In truth, this poor soul would most likely perish within the boundaries of this camp, and would be lucky if her body even made it home. Thus was the way of humans, and they were both at their mercy.

He wants to scoff when she asks about his own magic, wishing for him to teach her what he knows. He feels that it would be an insult to even entertain the idea of showing her the ancient magicks of Elvhenan, yet he finds himself answering her questions, his pride far too strong to ignore the academic attention she was giving him.

But then again, Morwyn has always loved a challenge.

Considering his offer, she extends her marked hand out in front of her and studies it in the mid-morning light. The flicker of green, fade-marked energy beneath her skin is not painful, at least not at the moment, but she cannot forget the agony it had caused her so easily.

muse || solas

Their fragmented silence spoke louder than shouted voices ever could. Framing the narrow dirt pathway from the small, humble cottage all the way up to the towering Chantry, the humans simply stood, nothing more than soft spoken gossip slipping from their shaking lips as the one who had just saved them all dared to walk past.

Dalish, they whispered amongst each other, a word wrapped in venom and aimed like a weapon to strike as if it were a curse. The Herald of Andraste, a dirty, heathen forest elf? Their small minds couldn't fathom the thought that anyone other than a human could possibly be worth anything, let alone the blessing of their beloved goddess. The whispers grew as she passed, concern fliting across the small village as they realised the rumours to be true. It was impossible, that she did not hear them, and yet she walked with her head held to the sky, black winding vines of Mythal etched like flowing ink across her bronze skin, gently framed by wisps of falling snow.

She was beautiful, fractured being as she was, walking brave and bold as she silently proclaimed that which she knew the shems feared most. She was Dalish, yes, and she was proud of it. So when she approached Solas later, the only other elvhen in the camp, he could not say he was surprised. He blustered about being a hedge mage, free from the confines of the Chantry and the barbaric treatment of the Circle mages at the lyrium soaked hands of the Templars. And when she inquired about his unmarred face, he lied straight to hers. The crude practices of the Dalish and the simple way they were now forced to live disgusted him to his very core, but he knew better than to let that particular thought slip out. So he gave her the same backstory he had given them all, and hoped that would satiate her curiosity.

Morwyn was not completely ignorant to the meaning behind their words, no matter what the Chancellor thought. She was better-versed than most Dalish in the beliefs of the Chantry - hence why she'd been chosen for her mission. Born one of a soulbonded pair of Dalish elves with a talent for magic, she and her twin brother, Tamlen, had vied for the position of First for years. While Tamlen's talents remained grounded in the practical - he was a natural healer and had a keen mind for political maneuverings - Morwyn's thirst for knowledge was more abstract. Her love for the secrets of magic and the Fade made her an excellent mage, but Tamlen was by far the better leader. So Deshanna had promoted him to First, because his talents were more important for the future success of the clan, and had kept Morwyn on as her Second so that she could keep an eye on her.

'Isnt that hilarious?' Morwyn thought to herself as she bounded down log stairs inlaid in the dirt and found herself in a clearing between little wooden cabins. "Tamlen would get along with all these high and mighty shems just fine. What good is a talent for magic going to do when I so much as breathe and everyone mutters for a Templar?" she muttered under her breath, not realizing that her frustrations were now being voiced aloud.

She kicked at the dirt and snow beneath her feet and bounded forward, determined to find a tavern and a stout drink. But instead, she found herself plowing forward into the surprisingly solid chest of an elf. A familiar elf, if she recalled that handsome, bare face of his correctly. "Oh! Hello," she said, scratching the back of her head somewhat sheepishly as she backed away to give him some space. It was a relief to see someone else like her, even if by his mannerism and the lack of vallaslin, she knew he wasn't like her in truth. Despite herself, she quickly found that she was falling into an easy conversation with him. His life and beliefs were fascinating, and Morwyn hardly noticed as that ever-hungering curiosity buried inside her yawned wider, baring its fangs at the prospect of new knowledge.

"Oh! Yes, I am. I'm a member of Clan Lavellan of the northern Free Marches - the Second, to be precise," she said proudly, a smile lighting up her expression as she thought of her beloved clan. "My keeper, Deshanna, sent me here. Our clan is less isolated than most, and she knew that whatever the Divine decided here, her decision would have consequences that would ripple out and affect even the most isolated of the Dalish... I was supposed to begin my return journey today. I guess I won't be seeing home again any time soon," she said, face twisting with homesickness.