MourningCity

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How did you get here?

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“Qifrey…” Olruggio speaks. Quiet, exhausted, and harsh. He looks to the man in front of him, expecting some kind of genuine answer to come out of him. A defence for his case.

All Olruggio gets in response is a gentle smile, and a slight tilt of Qifrey’s head as he stays looking at the man in front of him.

Olruggio's eyes drift from Qifrey’s own down to where you latch on to him. You hid yourself under Qifrey’s cloak and your hands grip onto his waist from behind. You were an anxious one.

You make eye contact with Olruggio, shrinking back further into Qifrey for a moment.

“Hello, mister,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on Olruggio, but they strayed from and avoided looking at his face again. Never looking above his chest.

Olruggio sighs. “Just call me Olruggio,” his voice still came out tired, but less annoyed.

Annoyed, not at you, but at a fifth apprentice that Qifrey has brought back with him to the atelier. Perhaps this is just something he has to get used to; Qifrey bringing to the atelier apprentices like a wife or child bringing home a stray cat. There’s more contrast than compare.

Olruggio’s eyes flicker between you and Qifrey for only a moment longer before stepping aside, letting you two cross the threshold past him.

Qifrey thanks his friend, and begins to guide you to your temporary room. It was only a guest room, but it was getting late. Surely he would figure out a better arrangement for your sleeping and studying quarters come morning.

When Qifrey steps back into the heart of the atelier, Olruggio has his back against the empty fireplace, clearly waiting for his return.

“Another apprentice, Qifrey? Why?”

Qifrey looks to Olruggio as he asks his question. He smiles before saying, “I really do believe there is always room for another,” he walks closer, sitting in front of Olruggio, “and perhaps I wished to survey their wonder and expand it in the right places.”

~

One month under his wing-

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“Master Qifrey,” you speak, peeking around the arch that forms between the kitchen and dining room.

Once you spot him over the stove, you stand to your full height, revealing the rest of your body from behind the wall.

Qifrey turns to face you, “Yes, what is it?” His brow arches lightly as you look up to him. He sets the kettle down, already having poured the hot water in his cup to make himself tea. “Do you need help with anything?” His voice remains gentle as always.

He always seemed a bit brotherly, or even fatherly, despite the basic relation of master and apprentice.

“Actually, I've been having a bit of trouble with my line work lately,” you grumble, gripping the white fabric that rests just above your stomach. You look down at the points of your shoes, unable to find the emotion you feel in yourself about your inability to draw a proper spell.

You then look back up to Qifrey. “I have asked for advice or help from the others, but none of it really seems to work for me. I even tried to ask help from Mister Olruggio, but—um,” your shoulders stiffen up a bit at the memory of Olruggio glaring at you as if he were a dead man revived before you could even utter out a single letter of a word to him.

Qifrey hums, laughing a bit at the last bit you speak, “I see. He can get a bit carried away in his work, leading him to be—well, tired,” he says the last word as if it alone would explain his friend’s habit.

Focusing back on the subject, he calls out your name, asking to see your hands as he holds out his own.

When you place your dominant hand into one his own, palm facing up, he crouches down to your level. Soon he starts poking at the palmer of your hand, then moves to feel and lightly rub your fingers.

After just a short moment, Qifrey hums before standing back up and asking, “Do you think it may have something to do with your pen?”

You look at him, and back to your hand. “I haven’t really thought about that being why.” You thought for a moment, “Though, Coco did ask a similar question. She also said she has a bit of trouble with her lines, too,” you bring your other hand to join the other, pushing your thumb into the middle of the other’s palm.

Qifrey only pats your head, putting your main focus back on to him, before he suggests, “Why don’t you sit on it for a little while longer?”

“Okay,” you nod.

“And,” Qifrey bends down, putting his other hand on his knee, “if it really is because of your pen, we can pay a visit to Kalhn and get you a new one. Easy fix,” he smiles down at you, closing his eyes.

You nod again, the action a bit more pronounced. You mirror his smile too, “Okay,” you say again.

“Now be on your way,” Qifrey walks back to the counter he left his tea cup on before looking back at you, over his shoulder. “It’s time you continue studying your spells,” he dismisses you from the kitchen. “Remember to know your limit,” Qifrey adds as you step back out into the dining area.

“Right, of course,” you fully turn away from him, making your way back to your workspace.

~

Turns out you had a minor case of a writer’s cramp from overworking yourself just a little too much. That, of course, got you a bit of a scolding from Master Qifrey when you two figured it out from your hand freezing up when he asked you to demonstrate a basic spell.

You two ended up paying a visit to Kalhn for a new pen anyway, though this one would be for more temporary and more limited use. Mr. Nolnoa did not have any pens made specifically for a writer’s cramp or anything “special” like that, but he was able to round out the tip of one just a bit for this case.

Master Qifrey had taken the newly customized pen out of your reach and put into his own bag when Mr. Nolnoa finally came back out with it in hand.

When you finally got the pen into your own hands, you tested it out immediately on the first thing of blank parchment you found back at the atelier. It definitely did glide across the paper easier than your former pen, and because of that, it required less pressure from your wrist. You still found that you preferred your original pen anyway, but you were still thankful for the kind of gift.

Qifrey does not have any need to worry further about you using your original pen, or even practicing too much, when you are getting over your cramp. He already had a conversation with the other apprentices about your small period of required recovery. Estimated by himself.

Richeh and Tetia, whom you share a workspace with, will remind you… Quite a bit. They worry about you, too, just as much as your master. Nobody in the atelier wants it to be a bigger case than what it already was, and not knowing your habits very well— well, they just wanted to be sure you were taking care of yourself as well.

Coco and Agott in this same case both stress that you shouldn’t overwork yourself for something that naturally takes time to get better at.

Qifrey agrees with it all, even mentioning at dinner, “It’s a good thing it was only a minor case.”

That you agreed with.

You agreed with all of them, and told them to not stress about your own predicament.

Qifrey very often sees that passion you share about magic with Coco’s own. He even has the fondest smile when he sees you two talking amongst yourselves about the topic.

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Requests

Undeniably proof that Qifrey's name keeps AUTOCORRECTING TO "WIFEY." I also scrapped the lines in the video, so don't try to find them on here :,)

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Shin

The first thing he tries is to notice any pattern on how and why you get angry.

Environment: he tries to get you away from it. If he can't, he'll find something that can cool you down.

External pressure: he will literally drag you or whatever you are on away, and have a silent hang out.

Internal pressure: Pretty much the same thing for external pressure, but he tries to tell you that your best doesn't have to be 100%

So on, and so forth. I hope you get what I'm trying to say

He prefers you yell or take it out on him rather than a stranger, someone you or he works with, or either of your friends.

He just doesn’t won't you yelling at Noi, or the suicide mission that would be doing that to En.

If you do start going off on someone that isn't him, he just waits behind for you to finish.

If you're fine and dandy with being touched, he'll rub your back while you rant about your day.

The rubbing will turn into a killer back massage.

(I'm manifesting)

You're mad at someone or just in general, and something another person does is like the last straw - one of two things:

Shin faces you towards him, or he gets in-between you two (which throws you off, and you either stay silent or go off on him). OR, if that person mirrors your attitude, Shin will defend your honor with his last breath (you have to drag him away).

I feel like Shin picks up the tiniest little quirks and habits from people he likes

With you, he doesn't mirror anything you do, but notices a lot of stuff quicker.

If you tend to hit or throw stuff around, he will be your punching bag.

Unless you ask or introduce an alternative because you don't want to hurt him. Even though his pain tolerance is probably way too high to truly even be considered that of a conscious being.

Dude, if you start crying because of how angry you are, Shin is dead…

He's so clueless when it comes to people crying. Thoughts are running 100 mps. He'd sit there panicking, until you're done and you just sit there next to him.

If there is absolutely anything that calms you down (noise (ex: certain band, music genre, white noise), object, smell, etc.) he will try to have it on his person anytime you two are out.

Or just tries to make sure it's easy access for you - on you, near you, in your home.

He really hates the idea of trying to “fix” you.

Yeah, if you're open to it, he'll suggest some alternative stuff to help you process your anger or outbursts. Just “fixing” means you're broken, and you really aren't, so he gets upset when he hears someone say something like that to/about you.

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Noi

She'd piss you off on purpose so she can have someone to play fight with.

Or just general entertainment…

At times, she goes off on someone with you, or just aggressively nods and agrees with whatever you say about anything.

Like, yes, that dog (idk, lmao) did not need to be that loud when you were walking by!

Speaking of dogs, she lowkey acts like one-

“I have no idea what you're saying to me, but I love you and you're talking to me!!”

She also compares you to a dog when you get mad as a joke…

She's trying to cheer you up, guys, please

Noi is almost always cheery or looking on the bright side of things. For bucks sake, she treats her job like a game.

She does take your emotions seriously, and you decided to hitch a ride with her on life, so she's trying to help you the way she just deals with a lot of things.

Y'know what.. She loves being physically affectionate. She would definitely sit behind you and rub your hips or shoulders while you're (standing or sitting) in front of her.

Please, LORD. I need that. I'd fold so hard.

She would definitely tell you “you look hot/cute when you're mad!”

She loves teasing and flirting so much, and again, you're the one that said "yeah, I want that one," so I don't know what to tell you.

Like Shin, she also tries to steer you away from the cause, if she's around, but in a different way.

“Hey, look over there! Isn't that so cool?” Suddenly you are being dragged away to something neither of you actually have that much interest in. But hey! It's quieter, and there's less people! Nothing to throw either (if you do that).

Again like Shin, she'd let you hit and throw stuff at her.

But unlike Shin, she'd praise you while you're doing it. Something like “Wow! You were really strong with that punch there!” - “Your aim really is getting better!”

She loves being your outlet, so anything you want to do, she's up for being the receiver or being absolutely anything you need.

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“See you around,” Itami bids you a farewell as you step on to the docks, “Fox.”

You spare the mink a glance back as she remains on the boat, waiting for you to leave into the city. Even from your current place, you can see the livelihood of it, even at this late at night. Moon high in the sky above you.

“Silent? You’ll go unnoticed,” Itami speaks to you as your unmoving figure and silence prompted her to do so. Even if you weren’t looking at her, you would know she was grinning.

She truly resembled a mink. Cunning, resourcefulness, and stealthy… She does many odd jobs around the city. An easy guess and conclusion to come to. Of course one such as her would be stealthy. But her personality was often blurring the lines of the symbol that many people gave to animals such as the mink and weasel.

Weasel. You teased her with that word on the boat ride over to Anima City from one of the many coasts of Japan. Of course you soon figured she hates the comparison and mischaracterization of what she is. Though, who wouldn’t? You only bothered to ask yourself that after her response to your teasing.

You grin at her words, “I only speak when needed. To whom and when I deem it to be important.”

“Oh? Sassy,” Itami sneers towards you with her words.

You hum, cocking your head to the side before pivoting your face to the opposite direction. The most you could see were alleys and rows of metal containers, lights from stores and high reaching buildings peaking over the mountains they, the containers, created. You head away, officially making your way to the heart of Anima City.

Step, step, step. All you can hear as you walk around, your own steps vibrating through your body from the heel of your shoes. The containers make no noise, nor the chains and locks that hold their doors closed and together. Wind or not, you’re by yourself, and yourself is all you can hear.

It’s safe, in a straightforward statement. The silence is easy on your ears. Manageable. Not bold, even if the bustling, chattering, and scraping of shoes against asphalt graze and make a bass in your eardrums causes a twitch in your ear, it’s still peacefully quiet in a sense. A more than possible opinion.

A false sense or a true one. The sensation of peace and security still remains. To the people, and an uncredited one to you. You know the lies places like this creates and holds, and the schemes it hides. Political or not. Direct or not. A paradise is a terrible place. You terribly and awfully believe that paradise is always going to be a mask, and nothing more.

You hum as you walk. Step by step. The noise and rhythm sneaking up in your throat. One you know well. One you can never remember where you heard it. Its origins are lost in you. You never know it's making its way as a silent song until you're already singing it. Silent and forgotten, but so-so beautiful. No words were known for this rhythm you knew better than yourself. You deemed that to be so, anyway.

The varying lights of many colors, warm and cool, and noise greets you steadily. There is no celebration, and no festival. It’s just a city night. A night in any city can not contrast deeply to what is here and lays itself out before you.

As such, your bag remains over your shoulder. Everything had its place in the satchel, and you knew everything was in its place. The slightest shift the bag had in position. The slightest shift in weight - you would know. You would know if someone, anyone, human, though doubtful, or fellow beastman, tried to rid you of your own belongings.

Your own noise gets muffled out by others. Your own scent is almost hard to differentiate between all the others. All the scents from food, fabrics, dyes, artificial and natural- anything, body odor and perfumes clinging to bodies of skin or fur. It’s not overwhelming. To be honest, your nose was almost resistant to a reaction due to some things. You knew how to individually process a smell and a noise from others no matter how invisible it may seem. Untrackable. That’s the word.

Your eyes were deeply lidded, almost feigning fatigue to onlookers. You looked almost vulnerable. Like a small rodent dragging itself away from somewhere to its hideaway instead of a vulpes. An agile, ready to strike at any moment, fox, is what you were not viewed as by the few who just so happen to look and glance your way. Or was it… a cloudy look? A storm dancing away in the pupils and irises in your eyes. That storm just didn’t want to be seen. Not yet.

Contradicting that deep, dark dance in your eyes, you flow with the light wind on your way to Anima City’s Beastman Co-op. A flower’s petal making its journey to the ground in the mist of the summer, its bud ready to bring fruit to a branch. It is only a few minutes and a few seconds before you stand at the top step. The concrete stairs, only made up of four steps before the door.

You knock. Just a simple action. Simple again, as one of the owners, Gem Horner, answers the door. He swung the door so swiftly that it seemed it was going to break off its hinges that latch onto the wooden doorframe.

“Oh, hello!” Gem greets you, sweating with the awkward rush he gave to the door, the knob still in hand.

You greet him, too. With a light smile, “Hello,” you gently reach out your hand, palm up, waiting for a handshake from the man in front of you.

“Right, right,” Gem reciprocates your smile, shaking your hand as initiated by you. “And you would be..? The new guest?” He lets go of your hand, preparing to step out from under the framing of the door.

“Yes, I am.” As you answer, Gem steps away, calling for his wife as he holds the door open for you to get in. You side step him, allowing your bag to come in with you without it catching or knocking into anything. “Thank you,” you give your small gratitude to Gem for his manner of holding the door open for you to pass through.

“Of course,” Gem clucks out.

“Ah, hi! Please, sit on the couch and make yourself comfortable! We’ll have your room sorted shortly,” Melissa, Gem’s wife, takes small steps to you, hand pointing back to the couch in the lobby area.

“Right, of course,” you followed where Melissa had pointed, and walked the short distance to the couch. You turned, only a little, and let your bag slide away and off of you. You caught it as the top of the strap hit your palm, and dropped it by your feet. Placing your hand down on the cushion first as you tilted slightly forward to sit down on the soft, just barely worn couch.

Gem and Melissa followed you with their eyes as they stood close together by the now closed door behind them. Melissa quickly blinked, zoning back into the world around her and Gem. She spinned around to the small shelf that was used for paper storage, and doubled as a shrine to the silver wolf, grabbing the few papers that were stapled together for you to sign and fill out. “Do you have an ID registered in Anima City?” Melissa asks as she walks over to you.

As she does so, Gem shuffles through the keys, trying to find the one that led to the unoccupied room they set aside for you upon your news of coming here shortly.

“I do not. Apologies,” you bow your head in an apology to Melissa as she walks to the couch in front of you on the other side of the coffee table before sliding the papers across it to you.

“Oh, my! No need to apologize! Just head down to the registration office in the morning,” Melissa reasons with you before reassuring you, “You can still fill these out and your room will still be given to you tonight.” Melissa smiles at you, before fumbling, feeling around her pockets to find you a pen. “Here you go,” she laughs lightly at herself, you soon joining in her joys.

“Found it—!” Gem celebrates as he dangles the room key in front of his face before turning back to you and Melissa, “–Ah, sorry?” Gem apologizes before shuffling his feet against the wood flooring, going towards the stairs, jogging up and heading to your about- to- be room.

“It’s– it’s okay,” you let out to Gem before he fully makes it up the stairs in a small fit of giggles, the back of one of your hands covers your mouth, as you reach for the pen Melissa lets roll on the table, sliding the papers towards yourself, as well.

Melissa still giggles as you. You both quiet down after only a few moments, smiles sticking to both of your faces.

All that can really be heard are the small sighs of breathlessness you two take, the small click of the clock hands moving, and pen against paper as you sign, check, and fill things out in all the right places. You read everything closely so as to not miss even one needed signature, and even the smallest detail in the already printed text.

It was already getting late, almost reaching 9:30pm and from the long day behind you, it was only natural for the small, tired sting to grab at your eyes as you finished filling out the last page. Gem, soon coming back down, ready to give you your copy of the room key.

As he reaches out his hand, key resting in his palm, you take it into your own hands, “Thank you.” You smile at him one last time for the night, handing the papers back to Melissa.

“Your room is just on the third floor, at the end of the hallway. It’s the best we could do for now,” Gem explains to you as you begin to stand up, looking at him as he verbally guides you. You grab the strap of your bag, taking it off the ground as you listen to him.

“I understand,” you walk around Gem, stopping to turn and stand near the coffee table, “Goodnight,” you give a farewell to Gem and Melissa. They echo out your goodbye, watching you leave before looking back to each other, going back to their own business and matters.

You walk towards the stairs, taking one step after the other to the top - the beginning of the second floor. Turning around the newel post, going up another flight of stairs. Now to the beginning of the third flood.

Turning, and twisting the key into the door, and with the light clunk of the lock, you wonder in the mostly vacant room. It’s a little more than decent size.

A queen bed right by a big window; it wasn’t a ceiling- to- floor- window big. But more on the wider than taller side. A light brown wood for the cold, stained, wooden floor, and a soft shade of orange painted on the walls. A couch almost in the middle of the room right along with a coffee table. A T.V. right across from it and a fake fireplace right under it. A desk and a dresser line the opposite wall, a darker wood used compared to the floors. The same goes for the two night stands on either side of the bed, as well as the bed frame. The bed did not have the classic white - everything: comforter, sheets, pillows that were more than stiff, and pillow cases. They had color, and it looked nice.

The Beastman Co-op is only supposed to be a temporary home for new Anima citizens. Even with the light sting begging your eyes to close, you do not sleep. Not yet, at least. You let yourself fall onto the springy bed, bouncing a little from the small impact. Your bag, still on your person, laying with you on the mattress.

All you do is lay there in wonder, mindlessly fiddling with your bag in any area that catches your fingernails. You sigh, exhaustion slowly clawing its way from the very tips of your toes to the very top of your head, and you let it. It is carving its way to your eyes and playing images in your head as your eyelids begin to flutter. You began to drift off.

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You awake with a BANG coming from beyond the ceiling to your room. Then a rumble of something being pushed to the other side of it. You have a noisy upstairs neighbor, that is for one thing. One that shocked you awake with a bang of something falling. Something big. And muffled yelling.. Muffled in the sense of, you can’t make out what they are saying to one another. Or what one is saying to the other, but that does not make it any less loud.

Sighing, you sit up rather too quickly from laying down, staring at the ceiling. Grabbing your forehead, you moan in annoyance. You stand up just before your dizzy spell dissipates from your head. Stumbling only slightly, you look back to the bed— your bed, side eyeing your bag. It wouldn’t hurt to look half way decent before giving your upstairs neighbor an unrequested QnA. So you reach for your bag, digging through to find what you need; toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, the works; before going to the room above yours.

What a way to start your morning.

You ran into– or rather saw the Mayor of Anima city just as she was about to knock on the door of the room directly above yours. “Uh, good morning,” you say to her, sleep still barely etching itself in your voice. You wave, small and slow. The movement barely having any movement at all.

“Good morning to you,” Mayor Rose speaks to you, a smile shows on her face. A gentle one, but her eyes barely squint because of it.

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BNA MASTERLIST

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Absolutely, it will be awkward.

This man fucking dwarfs all the characters in the fucking show, EXCEPT Noi (and Kaiman… like holy shit, brochacho does not need that extra foot of height ✋️). I'd be damned if it wasn't.

Speaking of Noi… she's made so many jokes about Shin and your guy's height difference.

The most frequent one would probably be her saying how he might step on you if he's not paying attention.

She said it so much that Shin actually developed that irrational fear of “accidentally stepping on you.”

I feel like this might be a weird one, but I feel like he'd sit or squat down in front of you while you're looking at him to talk.

Really just to avoid you getting neck pains.

ALSO, no matter the height you are, he loves looking up at you.

If you're around 5’8 and below, he would more than likely just let his hand rest somewhere on your back.

You're quite literally out of his line of sight.

Going into the point above, if you're around 5’0 and below, he is keeping you glued to his side.

Like, he's basically side hugging you.

And he looks so unbothered by what he's doing, but he's really hoping it doesn't feel too awkward on your end.

Still being a bit specific about height with this one too, but if you're 5'2 and below, he loves pushing you around (as lightly as he can).

He just does it on the occasion.

And when you look back at him, he's already crouching down, giving you the meanest puppy dog eyes like he didn't do anything.

He loves holding and carrying you around.

He'd actually just let you climb on him at this point.

I wouldn't say he's more handsy with a partner the shorter they are, though. He'd be great at being an oversized cherry if he touched more than your back or hands.

Okay. Now hear me out on this. Please. HEAR ME OUT. If you're shorter than him by any degree - even just one goddamn centimeter - he would prefer to sleep on you. If you're taller than him, he'd prefer it the other way.

I believe cuddling this man would happen in the dead of night. He is passed out cold and he just moves towards you while he's asleep, completely unknowing.

R.I.P. in advance ;-;

I wanna say 7/10 times when you walk in a room that Shin is already in, wanting to tell him something, you have witnessed him jump out of his skin.

Over time, he's gotten a little bit used to you accidentally sneaking up on him.

Going back to being a bit more height specific, without actually being that specific about height this time!

Shin is used to looking down at a certain degree, that, at times, when you're near him (talking to him, he's just trying to look at you, etc.) he forgets to look down further… It clicks to him after around 10 seconds of him not seeing you.

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Anyway,

Shin with a partner that is more hands on in displaying their attraction towards him, I feel like he would react in a similar way he does when Noi gets hands on with him.

He just kind of pauses and gets crazy flustered while trying to appear stoic, or telling you to get off him.

We all know he’s chalant as fuck. He is fooling no one.

He would prefer someone who is more open about being attracted to him.

He would like someone who doesn’t lean on him so much, and doesn’t pretend to be weak, though, too.

But it is like 100 extra points if you tell him how cool, handsome, and strong he is while holding his hand.

Kiss him, hug him, whisper words of affirmation to him. That 6’6 tall ass man needs it.

He absolutely will need a good long full week off from work.

That, or he is a little more focused (and rushing) while he’s doing a job for En, thinking about what you said to him.

Shin never actively searched for or wanted a relationship with anyone, so it was honestly a very drastic change in his life when he started dating someone who is just as if not more affectionate than his best friend and work partner.

He doesn't know how to match your energy, sometimes, so he just sits there while you dote on him.

Do it enough, and you might actually give him a heart attack.

I genuinely feel like he just does not know how to process the praise and recognition (for literally anything) you give him.

The same goes for physical affection… Anything really, actually.

Definitely did not fall first—no matter how you approached him.

Was, however, the one that asked you out.

The constant flirting and touching annoyed him in the beginning (pre-relationship).

Now, in the relationship, he is seeking out all the flirting and touching from you.

I'm going to stick to this, but he doesn’t like PDA. No to PUBLIC displays of affection.

Unless you're holding onto his arm/hand, or a quick hug goodbye.

I just get that vibe from him. I think it’s ‘cause he's easy to fluster, and being a part of the En family, you could be a target for the cross eyes or something. Mostly the first one.

A man who yearns earns.

Believe me, if you stray from your routine with this man, he is dying on the inside. He's very good at hiding it, though (he doesn't even know it).

Yes, him staring at you so hard you'd think he's trying to sear a hole into your body is really him trying to get your attention.

Pre- and beginning of your relationship, if you're right off the bat super affectionate with him, he tries to make up for it by distancing himself a bit.

He just needs to breathe and get adjusted to it, don't worry, love.

You are 100% planning the dates—but PLEASE, let him plan it if it's an anniversary date.

Shin doesn't plan the dates that often, because, let's be so honest with each other, you are his first relationship.

Most of the dates he takes you on is a hang out session in his room.

HOWEVER, dates in general, he will give you your favorite candy/snack and maybe some flowers.

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To my dearest friends, Qifrey and Olruggio,

My days have fared well, and I am still earning quite enough in my business. There is a new person coming in at least every other week. I am glad to be of help to people. One wouldn’t think you would meet so many kinds of people in this kind of job. Travelers, fellow artisans, mothers, grandmothers, and curious children.

Speaking of children, how are your apprentices? It has been awhile since I’ve asked, and even longer since I have last seen them. I do hope they are well.

I am doing well in my personal life as well. I met a man just the other week. He has brought me small trinkets and flowers every time he has visited me. We have talked about pursuing a serious relationship only yesterday. He’s stoic, but is also very kind and thoughtful.

Sincerely and with love, [Name]

You looked at the parchment as you finished signing it, smiling to yourself. Just as you were about to set the quill down in the pen rest, the overhead bell to your shop rang.

You turn around in your stool, looking up to who just walked in. Seeing the familiar silhouette, your smile widens, placing your cheek to rest on your clasped hands.

“My oh my,” you greet Easthies.

He tilts his head down, almost to hide the small smile he has, at your greeting.

“Hello, to you as well,” he leans down, his hand cups your chin as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, and leaves a light kiss against your cheek.

Your cheeks warm at the display of affection. Even if it’s early, and even if no one else is in your shop, you find yourself almost flustered at the thought of people seeing you two together doing such things.

“Easthies,” you whisper, moving your hands to cover your cheeks, closing your eyes and grinning. “How very bold of you this early morning!”

Easthies says nothing, but reaches out to grab your wrist, moving it away from your face.

You stay silent as well, only peaking open one eye to look at him, the grin still on your face. With your other hand, you reach out to touch his cheek. From cheek to jaw, from jaw to neck, and from there to his nape. A slow trip from start to end. Your nails travel lightly against his skin, leaving goosebumps where they once touched, but he doesn’t shiver from the feeling.

Easthies stays how he was, as if your hand has turned him to a statue. You lean in closer to him the closer your fingers get to his hairline at the back of his neck. Both your eyes becoming half lidded as you feel your breaths joining the other’s.

Your lips are a mere graze against Easthies’ as you speak to him, “Easthies?” Your voice was gentle, and airy. Such a light whisper.

“Hm?” Easthies let out a quiet hum, trying to match your volume.

“You’re so pretty,” your eyes close as you let out.

Easthies only closes the very small space that’s left between you, kissing your lips just as lightly as he did your cheek, making you giggle against him.

As you two broke apart, you looked up at him, smiling, before turning around to your writing area you've set up on your desk.

“I was writing to my friends before you came in,” you said, grabbing the letter and folding it into itself three times, then grabbing the spoon with already melted wax, sealing it closed with a stamp.

-

A knock sounded at the door, a small echo throughout the atelier as everyone was sat down, ready to eat whatever lunch was that day. Letting out a huff and a grumble, Olruggio got to his knees to stand.

“I’ve got it,” he makes his way to the door, a slight drag of his feet against the flooring.

“Hello, good afternoon, sir!” A cheery messenger greeted Olruggio when he opened the door.

Olruggio only stared at the other man, letting out a gruff “afternoon,” himself.

Feeling a bit pesky at the curt greetings, the messenger handed him a letter sealed with a familiar dark purple wax. “Here you are, sir!”

Taking the letter, Olruggio thanked him, making sure he went on his way before closing the door to the atelier.

Olruggio opened the letter, making his way back to the dining area. Only reading the first line, he called out for Qifrey. He only glanced at the other man before heading to the kitchen. Qifrey followed very soon after excusing himself from the table and the girls.

As Qifrey walked into the kitchen, he only saw Olruggio staring very sternly at the piece of parchment like it personally offended him somehow.

“Oh my,” Qifrey could feel an awkward sweat forming on the back of his neck as he smiled without humor. “Is everything alright, Olly?”

Taking his attention off the letter, he looks to Qifrey, “She says she’s met someone.”

Qifrey’s eyes widened, almost in an excited manner, “why, that’s wonderful!” He cheers, bringing his hand together.

-

Just a few days later, as the others were filled with lessons and patrols, certain people decided to pay you a visit.

Down in Kalhn, Easthies was just on his way to your small tailor shop, just as he was the other day. An inconsistent yet familiar routine. He was donned in his Knights of Moralis attire as he walked along the cobblestone streets. It was just as busy as it usually was around this time of day, so he wasn’t surprised when someone, a child no less, bumped into him.

He looked down after hearing the meek voice apologize. Easthies was not surprised that a child bumped into him, no. He, however, was surprised to see that Coco, one of Qifrey’s apprentices, was the one that had bumped into him.

“Coco,” Qifrey called out.

Speak of the devil…

Turning his attention to Easthies as he reached out to pull Coco away from the man. “Easthies,” Qifrey greeted with a terribly forced smile. “I’m surprised to see you here in Kalhn.”

“You as well. I am only doing a simple errand run.” Easthies wanted to keep the encounter short with the other man.

“Is that so?” Qifrey continued, “We are as well. So then, Best we go our own ways now,” he wanted to keep the encounter short as well.

Easthies said nothing, only nodding at the man’s words. He takes off in his original direction, stepping past the other two, and at some time, he passed by Olruggio as well. How rare to see him here, Easthies thought to himself.

-

You’re sat in your stole as you are most days, torn garment in hand and sewing needle in the other. Easthies stands at your back, rubbing at whatever small knot you have in your shoulder. You let out small hums of satisfaction every now and then.

The overhead bell rings, but you don’t look up. Keeping your eyes on the garment in front of you, you greet whoever just walked in, “Welcome.”

Easthies does look up to whoever just entered the shop. Seeing who it was, he stops his movements on your shoulder, pulling his hand away. That absence prompts you to look up as well. To him in question, then to the door in wonder.

Just in front of the door stands a shocked Qifrey, and behind him, an equally shocked Olruggio.

Surprised by their presence, it takes you a bit to speak up again. “Qifrey—and Olruggio?” You stand up and walk towards them. “Where are the girls?” You wonder aloud, peeking around them, seeing the lack of apprentices.

They both continue to look past you towards Easthies, who stares right back at them. They stay silent for what you think is a whole seven minutes, feeling every second pass, before looking at you, then back to Easthies, then back to you again.

They both say nothing for only a little while longer before shouting out in unison, “HIM?!”

You nod, straining your smile, feeling a headache coming on already at the future throw of questions from the two you would call brothers.

//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\

Rainbow, streaky skin. Scrape and brush on a canvas. One star in the sky, gone, as millions take its place. Your knees burn and your ankles are sore. You have been sitting on the wooden floor for hours, not bothering to look up as the light from the windows changed.

You change the way you're sitting again, adjusting the canvas in front of you too.

That's when you hear the rattle and click of the front door opening. You know who it is. You don't look up or speak as the creaks of aging wood get louder, closer to you. The Russell of fabric also greets your ear. The tussle of a tie being pulled over head, and a suit jacket being tugged off of arms.

"Why are you still up?" Shin asks. His voice is groaning, tired.

You hum. "I wanted to paint."

Shin lightly chuckles out, "at this hour..?"

You glance back at him, grinning a little. "It's the best time."

"Sure it is," He nods as he responds. Shin laughs lightly, sitting down on the couch just a few feet behind you.

You turn your head back to look at the canvas in front of you, reaching for the cup of paint water to duck your paint-covered brush. Shin groans lightly as he gets comfortable, shifting in the cushion he always sits on. He spreads his legs just barely. His eyes have a light sting from the draining day. As his eye lids flutter just slightly, his graze goes to you. Back facing him, shoulders barely moving from the movement of your arms and heads, a slow nod of your head; either from being tired yourself or from a song you have playing in your head.

Shin lets out a light sigh before asking, "What are you painting?"

Your back straightens a little, "Something..." you mutter out just loud enough for him to hear.

"Something..?" Shin echos back, leaning his head against his arm that stretches over the back of the couch.

"Mhm," you hum to confirm.

Then you get to asking him questions. Simple, everyday ones, like, "How was work?"

"It was alright," Shin grumbles.

You smile to yourself. You and Shin don't get to talk a lot during his all-day work rendezvous with Noi.

"A bit messy, but you know, the usual happened. Nothing special."

"Right.." You give a short response, leaning in closer to the canvas, making one of the last final strokes. "Did you eat?"

Shin feels too exhausted to actually talk, making a short half hum of a yes.

Grumbling some more, Shin talks slowly, voice almost gravelly, "Come to bed."

It wasn't a demand. It wasn't a question. It was just a plea. He wants to go to bed, but only after you.

You turn your head to look at him again, glancing at his slouched back. His things were thrown carelessly on the couch on the cushions next to him. Shin's eyes were barely even open. Gosh, he was tired. He kind of... looked nice like this.

It didn't remind you of this, but you couldn't help comparing it to one of those renaissance paintings of men throwing themselves at a practically naked woman.

"Shin, I promise I'm almost done," you whisper out.

It was quiet in your apartment. That kind of quiet that only felt right to whisper in. A kind of quiet that reminded you what time it was, but certain people didn't care too much about it. A kind of quiet that, it didn't matter how tired you were before, you couldn't help but feel tired now.

Shin rolls his head back against the top of the couch. His legs stretch just a little bit farther. His eyes close just a little bit more.

"Then let me know when you're finished," Shin says with a straining yawn.

Still looking at your painting, one stroke closer to finishing, the corners of your mouth turn up just a bit. A small smile on your face as your quiet voice tells Shin, "I will." You perk up just a bit, "Though," your hands still moving and your eyes still on the self-appointed task at hand, "You could go to bed before me? You don't have to wait."

Shin's eyes open when you finish your last words, "but I want to," he admits, staring at the ceiling.

That's sweet. Endearing, in his own way. He just wants to know how late you stay up. Maybe put pressure on you to go to sleep earlier than you would've if he didn't stay up with you. It's still sweet.

"Whatever," you throw back at him.

One of the final strokes. Maybe you could get away with keeping it like this. It looks finished enough. Maybe your brain will be fooled until the afternoon, tomorrow, thinking it really is finished until a small (unfinished) detail shows itself.

Shin. A stubborn man, but you will love him, even beyond the bounds and spells that death offers. He is practically falling asleep already, sitting up on the couch.

You push yourself away from the canvas, standing up. Your ankles and calves feel stiff, and the tacky, creaky sound from the floor from where you were sitting makes your movements all too well known. Bending over to pick up the still kind of wet painting, you walk over to the coffee table, placing it down oh-so gently.

Before you even turn back to pick up the palette, brushes, paper towels, and your go-to paint cup, Shin is already squatting to get them himself.

"How domestic of you," you tease, going down to help him.

Shin huffs out a laugh, teasing you back, "Are you saying I would be a good husband?"

You look up at him, pretending to think. Innocent of any crime. "... Maybe.. We'll know when the day comes." You couldn't stop the grin from stretching your lips.

There is a small pause in the air.

Shin grabs your face, his index finger on your chin and his thumb on your cheek. He swipes his thumb across your cheek before saying in a low tone, "You have paint on your face."

You blink, silent for a moment, before laughing. You punch his shoulder, "Let's just go to bed."

//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\

Noi:

Noi is definitely on you more than Shin.

She loves and craves affection from her partners, so she may be the one to act on that desire first.

         -   She loves being on top of you or you on top of her.

She is not going to give you some extremely expensive gift, but more of ‘this fun shaped rock reminded me of you’.

        -   She’ll probably steal some flowers off of some random guy’s lawn and give them to you.

She will knock people's faces in for you—or with you. Whatever you’re into.

Noi is definitely more than willing to experiment with what you might be into.

On dates, music taste, food, hobbies, the bedroom. Whatever, whenever type of thing.

Noi, to me, gives off second in command vibes.

        -   What I mean is she is leader material, and can be dominant or dependable, but she is also willing to fulfill orders from others (people she trusts, obviously). She likes doing what you like, but she wants you to like what she enjoys, too.

She does have a very upbeat attitude, but she does still have empathy. She can match your mood as quick as it is to turn on a light switch.

        -   You’re mad? She’s a little mad, too. Upset? She’s upset at whatever made you feel like that. You’re happy? She is more than happy.

She thinks in a literal sense. Not “it’s raining cats and dogs,” but she thinks you actually roll your eyes in a circle instead of from one side to another.

        -   And she definitely believed, or still does, that gum gets stuck in your stomach for a few days if you swallow it.

        -   Taking this and considering it in a relationship with her, you may have to correct, clarify, or guide her in what you or another person means. You and Shin are really the only ones who do this with her.

She knows how tall and big she is, but sometimes she forgets her own strength, especially if she is feeling strong emotions.

        -   When she sees you, she gets really happy and may or may not crush you in a hug.

        -   When she is mad—like, rage filled, she breaks skulls with a smile on her face.

She loves you so much. The definition of personal space gets erased in her head when she’s with you. Your bubble is just a part of hers now.

She talks to you about anything and everything. Now you know that some random scar she got on her knee from following a rock was the first time she actually got injured.

Shin:

Out of all the love languages in the world—Shin shows his love through acts of service.

He does like spending time with you, and honestly, he looks for you the moment he is done with whatever job En had him on.

        -   Shin does give you a lot of space, though. Let us be so honest with one another; he had zero interest to what romance even was before your relationship.

He writes poems—or, at least he tries to—about you.

        -   He reads and he wears glasses. You can not tell me he hasn’t tried to at least once in the entirety of his twenty-eight years.

Shin keeps all the physical stuff he wants to do with you in his head. He is hesitant to do it or even bring it up to you.

Out of the both of them, Shin and Noi, Shin has a more demanding - follow the plan - personality.

        -   He just doesn’t like anything too spontaneous. Like people trying to kill him and Noi… Among more normal stuff.

Depending on what age he was when you guys met, he probably took a while to trust you.

        -   But like Noi, he did end up trusting you pretty soon after.

I think he may be more into independent people.

         -   He doesn’t want to be depended on a whole lot. He is En’s cleaner, so he depends on Shin to “take care of business.” He wants to come home to someone who does their own thing and solves their own problems.

        -   That doesn’t mean he dislikes helping you. He does. He likes feeling helpful.

Shin is not all that into PDA or physical affection.

        -   You two could just be in the same room, on the same couch or on completely opposite sides, and he’d be fine with that. He wouldn’t mind little touches, though.

I really don’t think he cares what, who, or when you did something before you two met or even got together. Does not care.

        -   He does care about the basic things, though. Communication, loyalty, being alive, not breaking the law (regardless of him technically doing that one himself), etc.

He sleeps on his back, like a fucking corpse. He is really quiet when he is sleeping, too. No snoring, can’t even hear him breath.

        -   He didn’t even know he did that until you told him you thought he was dead before checking for signs of life.

//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\~//_\\

.

.

.

.

The wheat kneels. People, slaves and retainers, cover their faces as the loose dirt dances with the wind. Women's dresses lightly joining. The sun showed mercy at the close end of summer, but one was still most likely to sweat.

"Water! We got water fresh from the spring!" A young boy yelled, dragging a barrel filled to the brim of cool water atop a small wagon.

"It's still cold!" A younger girl spoke loudly after. The other kids joined with giggles.

Spinning, facing the opposite way of the kids, "Y'hear that? Fresh and cold! Come get it before someone decides to be greedy!" You cry out. Trying to let your voice carry to the ones farther away.

Einar's head turns to you as he passes the trail on the other side of the wheat field. "Hey, Thorfinn?" He calls out to the other man beside him, "who is that?" Einar points to your eccentric figure, arms coneing around your mouth before being thrown out above your head.

"Huh?" Thorfinn turns to look at Einar, to then look at where he is pointing- at you. "Oh, that's [Name]. She cares for the slaves and farmers' kids when they're working the fields."

"Ah," Einar sounds in acknowledgment. Einar zones in on you, lost in thought and wonder. Are you a slave? A free person who just works for Ketil?

Thorfinn looks back to Einar. He thinks only for a moment before speaking again, "Do you want to talk to her-" Einar quickly flickers his gaze back to Thorfinn, shaking his head quickly. "Okay..?" Thorfinn questions his friend's quick rejection.

Einar rushes past, "Not right now anyway. We have work to do!"

Thorfinn replies to his sudden enthusiasm, "Uh- Right!"

Well, he is going to see you again anyway. Really soon, actually. It is almost lunch time, afterall. Just an hour more until the sun marks it as noon. Hours do tend to pass by quickly, though.

"Thorfinn!" You popped out from behind one of the trees. Both of the men's shoulders stiffen, rising, before looking towards you. You smile at them, "Lunch time," you bring out the thin, fabric bag from behind you. It seemed more full than when the retainers brought them food. That's for sure. "Cheese and bread, as usual, I fear." Handing off the bag to Thorfinn.

"Thank you," Thorfinn looks at the inside of the bag. Two, full boule loaves, and two things of triangle cut gouda cheese.

Thorfinn is really starting to think you are a Hamingja. Sent straight from beyond the sky.

Einar looks to Thofinn and the exposed goods from the bag in his hands. "Yeah, thanks-" Einar is interrupted with a grumbly voice, clearing their throat.

A loud yawn erupts from the man emerging from behind you. Irked from the noise, and presence he brings, you glare at the man. Snake. All you do is argue with one another. Why did Master Ketil put you two together? He could've sent a retainer down with you instead.

But, no. You two need to learn how to get along. It's not good to have fights with someone you're going to spend years with on the same pot of land. Then again, you don't have any favor for the retainers either.

"All right. What the hell am I suppose to be doing with this thing?" Snake refers to the horse, tugging on its curb rein. It huffs, taking short steps alongside Snake.

Staring at him, eye twitching, you breath exasperatedly at his words. "Tie any fallen trunk to the horse's harness. Pull it over to the river. Do that same thing with another trunk. You're done when there are no more loose, fallen trunks." Snake looks at you, tired. He always sleeps until mid-late afternoon. We guests do our jobs at night to keep you safe! You can hear his egotistic- annoying- womanizing- self-certained- patronizing- conceited- narcissistic- casanova- bitch ass voice echoing in your brain. You hate it. "Go," you gesture to the land behind Thorfinn and Einar. Your voice isn't sharp or graining with hidden half-witted insulting remarks. As it could've been, but just wasn't. Just a small go, hoping he does.

"Whatever you say, angel," Snake's voice chimes, slinging the rope that was on the horse's saddle over his shoulder. Snake had no smirk or grin when speaking. He walks to the nearest trunk, tugging the horse with him. He began to tie the rough material over and under the trunk. Snake anchors the rope to small, cut-off branches, too. Taking the excess rope to where he left the horse to stand, wrapping it over to the harness, as well, and tugging the other end to wrap around his own torso.

One pull was enough for judgment. Snake needed help. It was a two man job to pull it over to the river.

"Hey," Snake looks back to where you three stood. Looking at him, he continues, "a little help, here. Someone needs to push."

Einar speaks up first, back to Snake, "Uh-Right!" Einar jogs over, putting his hands on the tree, "Ready." Einar's voice was stern and loud. Suppose that's just what he talks like when it comes to someone of a higher class than him.

After four interesting hours of Snake grumbling, you staring off into space while sitting awkwardly on a frayed stump, and Thorfinn and Einar switching off who pushes while the other eats, you praise the two other men before leaving. Rubbing random spots near the resting place of the harness, you walk alongside the horse, Snake on the opposite side of the creature.

Taking the final step out of the patch of forest, Snake takes a moment to wonder before leaving the question to hang in his thoughts. You two never really spoke to each other because you fought. So often. Snake saw no reason to punish you, so he never complains to Ketil about it. That is who your master is after all.

That does leave for complaints to continuously leave the bastard's mouth while he eats heaps and lumps of food old man Sverkel prepared. Least to say, though you and the old master never truly met, Sverkel knows you roughly well. From Snake's perspective. Which is, "an enchanting witch who only complains like a spoiled princess."

To mention again, though you and the old master never met, you two can agree on one thing. Snake is a parasite mimicking a serpent's tongue. But he is needed. Terribly so. All the guests were.

You read the difference in mood, even slight, coming from your companion. "There's something on your mind. Spill it, Snake." Sensing just a small change or detail was a gift you possessed. Snake always wondered if it was something you developed or just a talent you always had.

Snake looks to where he heard your voice. The horse's neck blocks his view of you. "Have you and Thorfinn known each other before coming to the farm?" Snake finally asks. He has held that wonder since only a few seasons ago. "Even before becoming slaves?"

Tightening your fist around the horse's reins, knuckles showing paler, and crescents dig themselves into your palm. "Perhaps. What's it to you?" You sound.. Desperate? Desprate to end the conversation. To have no more questions to answer. That was a mere four years ago when you two last saw each other just to be reunited. Just four years ago since you last saw a warrior you visioned as your own family. It was a time you did not miss filled with the few people that you did.

You sound irritated and annoyed. Doing the same as Snake, you look towards where his voice carries from, despite the horse being in the middle of you both. Snake grunts in annoyance from your tone.

"Just wondering is all. No need to have unspoken words," but he doesn't know what those words are. Not for this particular exchange.

Inhaling sharply, you speak again. Quieter. "I did." Before Snake can ask any more questions, you let out another sentence, "Let's just hurry. I need to get to the younger kids on the farm," you try to redirect the subject.

"Do you not trust my men?"

"Not with my kids." You are quick to backhand his question.

"Hey, dumbasses!" Snake yells out as he enters the fort. Screams and giggles come from kids, and groans and complaints come from men.

Side eyeing Snake, you walk farther than him, beyond the first building. Young kids are spread out everywhere. Running from each other and Fox. Possibly the only man who thought it necessary to take care of and indulge them. Taking one last step, you position yourself in the middle of the grounds. You clap your hands twice, and loudly. "Hey, my wonders!" Putting on a smile, you yell out. "Guess who's back from a long and terrible journey," you spread out your arms for your usual theatrics.

The kids run to you from their places, screaming and crying out your name. There weren't too many of the younger and smaller kids, only 4 or 5 of them. Even still, it was enough to have a need for you to readjust your footing while they knocked into and jumped on you.

You laughed with them, having joy in that moment.

A gruff whisper of your name is repeated. It is fading just to get louder. A pitch black place slowly coming into focus. Screams getting closer. Seeing it now, clearer, there's blood. Everywhere. Bodies hanging on branches. Arrows shot right through them.

"Why..?" Your voice is meek and fragile. To be brought back to this forsaken place, who wouldn't want to scream out for help?

The whisper a whisper no more. It speaks right in your ear. Right behind you. You freeze. Stiffen. The voice bubbles around liquid. You slowly turn around, holding your breath. Your irises shake as you find the man behind you. The very dead man.

Sunken eye sockets where there are no eyes. Gray and blue skin of decay. Bones showing proudly through fallen muscle and torn clothes.

You choke on a scream. It stays in your throat. Water lines your eyes. Hands trembling. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," whimpering out, you slowly fall to the ground. Your knees dig into the dried dirt and exposed roots of the trees. Your head is just a few inches away from the man's feet. Shaking hands shield your head. "I didn't want to. I promise. I was just doing what I was told-"

"Weak excuses. What else was there to take your anger out on but a stranger you titled 'enemy'?" How could you ever forget his voice? You raise your head to look at where the voice came from. In front of you. Where the rotting man was, there stood Askeladd. The man you served for more than half a decade alongside Thorfinn. "What's with the staring? Miss me that much?" Askeladd grins. His crows feet wrinkles deepening with it. He has his sword swung over his shoulder. Wearing what he wore the day he died. The day you saw him die.

You never hated him, despite your somewhat close relationship with Thorfinn at the time, you never did. You hated his men. Your hate did not drive you, but orders did. "Askeladd..." You whispered, one last tear crawling and tickling its way down your cheek. Trying to grab at his bloodied white sash, he dissipates into the rotting man that was in front of you before.

The man swings his ax down to you, at your neck. You are about to yell, or even beg, but just then, you feel something latch around your left forearm.

Arnheid holds your arms as they reach out for nothing. She looks at you, deep into every detail of your face. "Are you ok-"

You pull your arms out of her grasp, sitting up, you push yourself away from her. "I'm sorry- that I woke you."

"Oh..." Arnheid reaches out for you again, resting her hand on your knee. "I wake you every night in hopes to rid you of whatever hell greets you close to every night. Please, do not feel bad for it," you stare at her hands.

Gently, you let your legs fall from your chest to the bed, placing your hand atop hers. "Thank you, dearly, Arnhied."

Arnied takes her other hand to your cheek where a tear almost falls from your water line, wiping it away.

"No need to thank me," bringing your head closer to her chest, she rests her own on the crown of your hair. "We're close as family."

Family... The word almost feels bitter and leaves you to shiver as it rings in your eardrums. "Of course," you mutter into the practically diaphanous, white fabric of her sleeping gown. Arnied soothes over your unexposed skin, hidden under your own excuse of a sleeping gown.

Though, for unfortunate, as you classified it, reasons, Arnied had to leave back to her own room. Soon enough, you did fall back to sleep. Even without her to pacify your terrors. They didn't persist for the rest of the night, thankfully. A mother's effect, despite it not being your own.

"Terrors you call them. Have any more, and you'll sleep in a damned barn! Understand that. You are nothing more than a slave. It is a privilege for you to even have a proper bed." Of course by the morning, the mistress, Ketil's wife, greets you so sweetly. And before her nickering, she welcomed you to the new day with a stinging hit to the face.

She goes to the inside of her home, which she often says, regrettably sharing it with the likes of slave women. You watch her leave with no portray of annoyance, relief, or regret.

The moment the door closes, however, you exhale, and make way to the well, ready to wash your face. Already done with the words and complaints from the mistress, you wish to rather work the nets for old man Sverkal. You've never done it before, but Thorfinn and Einar have. You much rather be his slave rather than Ketil's poor excuse of a wife taking advantage of your very existence to quite literally kick and slap you around.

You firmly believe that that woman is deprived of any short of empathy and sympathy from entering her heart and soul the day she was born. Maybe she was possessed by a frog demon? A malevolent spirit in any scenario. Your thoughts are filled with conspiracies and your throat produces grumbles and complaints of the mistress. You have never been so sick of a person breathing in your life. Coming from the deepest depth of your heart, you distaste of her more than your hatred for Snake and praying to all gods from many on his downfall. Yes, I fear. More than that.

Speak, or think, of the devil and he shall appear. A message of temptation or just to anger one shall no doubt greet your ear. A slithering fool on a horse, but it is not Snake, but only one of the retainers. Now why is he here? Who is to fully know. Now, neverminding that, you continue to the well, looking back in front of you from the direction of the man.

"Good morning," you yawn out to Einar, Thorfinn, and Arnied. Arnied smiles, repeating your words back to you, as well as Thorfinn.

Einar waits, eyes directed behind you, and mind in an endless void. "Morning," Einar then speaks only minutes after. "What was the mistress.." he leaves his question unfinished, unaware of how to finish it.

"It was nothing. She is always salty, believe it or not," you rather not answer. It was not due to embarrassment, but a genuine belief that if you don't, in heart-of-hearts, truly know a person outside of their name, why burden them with the such things that haunt you? They can't fix something that, no matter how hard you try to forge or stitch together, can't be fixed.

Yet there is truth to your statement. No matter how one pleases the mistress, the salt on her tongue and bitterness in her actions, she will, without a doubt, remain to be such a wicked person.

"Hey!" You turn to the man's voice, after dowsing your face with water bowled in your hands. "Hurry up. The kids need their mommy," he laughs at his joke. "The crops need work, and you're holding them up."

I just woke up. Your eye twitches slightly at his attitude. "Of course. I'll get to it as soon as I can," you bow your head as you hold the draped over hand towel, just about to dry your face.

"Soon," he adds, much more sternly, before pulling on the reins to turn his horse around to gallope the way he came.

"I'm so tired," you cover your face with the towel in your hands, gently patting at your skin. Turning around again to face the others, "Arnied! Make my misery no more, I beg!" Walking around the well to where she stood, you clung to her with mock desperation.

Arnied only chuckles at your words. "Go on. Those kids do need you, and the farm-"

"I know, Arnied," you step away from her. "Work must be done." The pads of your pointer and middle touch your forehead. Your head hangs, being held by your fingers. Only seconds later, you drop your hand and straighten your neck, holding up your head. "Now, I shall get dressed to fully greet the day! A temporary goodbye," you face the three, smiling, before heading back to the mansion to clothe yourself in your overdress.

You feigned temporary excitement. You love the children you care for, but the people you often find yourself with, it's simply uncommon to find someone who doesn't try to simplify you to one mere word. No matter what it be.

You pivot to face the opposite way of the house at the final step, going on the deck, you wave a temporary goodbye to your friends before heading inside.

You smile at the children, teaching them flowers and herbs. All the ones that line the border ending Ketil's land, "Yes, and this is called a-"

Whistle. "Pretty close to the forest, huh?" Snake's force rattles behind you.

"Snake," you greet him with his name slipping from your tongue. Standing up, dusting your buttocks from the spare grass blades and clinging dirt, you turn to look at him. "Is there anything you need?" Sickly sweet is your tone.

Gods, you are a contradiction. Snake knows he annoys you. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. "No, nothing. Just wanted to keep you company with the... kids," but one is to guess that's something he likes most about you.

"Is that right?" You know it's some poor excuse to drive you insane.

"Yep," Snake confirms. "Can't leave you all alone with only kids around," he steps closer to you. "What if someone decides to take you?" Snake jests. A pitiful joke it was.

The kids watch on at the scene you two play out in front of them. Some snicker, some gag, and others 'ooo'. One quips their thoughts aloud, "Are you two gonna marry? Miss said she was unwed," the small girl, height only reaching a few inches above your knee, points to you, looking at Snake.

"Hopefully it'll remain that way," you grumble so lowly, no one makes out what you said. You cross your arms while tilting your head, suddenly finding the ground all that more interesting. Hoping to avoid more questions by ignoring their wonders.

Snake is only taken aback by the girl's question, not knowing how to respond, only for a moment. Regrettably. "Oh, no! I can't stand her. Always nagging and complaining. Who would want that? Tsk-tsk," by all that is mighty, you loath this man.

You walk up to him, not face- to- face, but just past where he stands, "I'm not a dog," you whisper in Snake's ear.

In one more step, you bring your heel down to his toes. "Hmph!" Snake huffs out in short pain.

"You'd leave your wife waiting out in the rain if you had one," You look back at Snake over your shoulder. "Who would want that?" You throw his words back at him before calling for the kids, walking away from the forest lining. "Let's go look at the horses!" You cheer out for the children running by your side.

Snake is left behind, staring at your back.

The weird thing is, he has done that before. A fling. He didn't feel any attachment to that woman, and he wanted that to be mutual. He even told her that. Explained to her why. They both thought she wouldn't grow to need him. It was at his old home. Snake only found out after he ran away by a passing word from a drunk, old merchant. 'The poor thing,' he called her.

You gave the past right back to him in that one sentence and didn't even know it. How ironic is that?

But he wouldn't do that with you. Snake has long since came to that painful conclusion just months ago. He doesn't know how you did it, but you unlatched his heart and pulled it right from his chest. The worst part? It wasn't that you basically hated him, though he knew why. It was that you didn't even know you did it.

You would spit on him if you could. Break his neck and legs, just because.

That's why Snake decided he'll work for you. Even if it turned out to just be a small change in opinion about him. He would do it. Before sunrise to after sunset, Snake will do it. Just because it's you. Even if he doesn't understand just why it had to be you. Of all people. And now of all times, too?

You put a curse on the man. That must have been it. Definitely.

"Damn. She has me," Snake walks to one of the trees, pressing his back up against it, and slides down, keeping one leg up- bent, and the other tucking itself under. Snake puts his right hand on his forehead, his left, digging in the dirt beside him. "Man, I'm fucked," Snake almost cries out, dragging his hand down his face, stopping when the weight of his palm tugs on his stubble.

Snake stays there an hour longer than intended. He just sat there thinking. About you. What to do. If he should apologize. Apologize about what? He has done too many things to you, just for the sake of a reaction. How would an apology even go? "I'm sorry for basically torturing you every hour of every day since you first came here. I actually fell in love with you, oddly enough, and didn't know how to act around you, so I treated you in a way I would typically treat my men. Please forgive me!"

Maybe... but this is Snake we're talking about. He just has to look at it from every angle. But he can't figure out yours. You always have a mask on. Snake knows a facade when he sees one. He has never known you to be vulnerable.

Though, on those rare nights where he just so happens to be patrolling near Ketil's mansion, he hears you scream.

He knows it's you. He pays far too much attention to you, including your voice, for either of you two to be admittedly comfortable with. If he did tell you, that, of course, is. He even notices how you often sound so raw in the mornings due to your nightmares. Your terrors.

Snake knows Thorfinn has them, too. More often than you, in fact. He can't even imagine what the hell happened to you two to cause such dread.

Snake may be venomous more often than not, but you were poisonous. Like a budding flower begging to be eaten, just to leave your victim dead and waiting. Poison can not dilute just because its carrier is dead. You're deadly, and your beauty just drags an endless string of unknowing individuals to their graves.

Maybe that's why Snake prefers to admire you from afar. And when he does get up close, he sprays you with his own venom before you can lure him in with yours.

Time went by fast. A week. All seven days. All one hundred and sixty eight hours. All ten thousand and eighty minutes- Well, you get it. Just a few days filled with a lot of time. Until you two, Snake and you, talked to each other. One could even say he was avoiding you. It gave you both time to think, in the most simplest words to say it. The most summarizing word to use for this, however, would be taking a respite. Close to synonyms, I suppose.

You were so used to Snake's persistent teasing and mockery that its absence felt strange. You'd never admit that to anyone. It may be mistaken as missing it. Which you don't. In all honesty, no part of you has changed in wanting to kick his teeth in from his threads of words.

The soft crunch of leaves and ruffling of grass brings your attention back to the world. You were sitting on your knees on top of a short hill, overlooking where the kids played in a small field. If it could even be called that. Filled with grass and flowers it was, but most of it was dried, hardened dirt. It being so from no shettler from the sun.

One last kick from a horse's hoof finally makes you look back. There sat Snake on the saddle. "Can we talk?" Is all he asks. He waits for you to answer, or to even move.

"Yes," you relent, finding it best to agree. "What about?" You give your wonder to him as he dismounts from the sand colored horse.

"I guess..." Snake pauses. What was I going to say? His words left him. Not only that, but his tongue refused to move as well.

"Well, Snake?" Your voice is soft and patient, like how you are with the kids on the farm. Not like how you usually talk to him. Not in the slightest.

It takes him a moment to talk again, left just looking at you. Just you. He was a little surprised, to say the least. "Uh- I- I wanted to-" Snake sits down beside you, his legs slip in front of him, leaning forward slightly, his elbows on his knees, and his hands dangle between the gap his legs created. "I wanted to apologize. For how I've been treating you," Snake lets out a breath. The sound like someone being greeted to the day with a stubbed toe and a mess already needing to be cleaned.

You're quiet. Too quiet for Snake to be comfortable in it. Snake tilts his head in a way to look at you, just to find you already looking at him. "I... forgive you," you mutter to him. "However, never, and I do mean never, do that shit again." You demand him with your words, and the pointed stare you have towards him.

Snake only chuckles, waving his hand near his face in a forget it motion. "God," Snake lets out. I have to tell her. "To be honest," he begins again.

You wait, "What?"

"I've long since came to the conclusion that I liked you. Quite a bit, actually." He looks away from you, rubbing the nape of his neck, Snake looks towards the children. He cringes at the thought of having one of his own. Maybe he wouldn't mind having one, but he never understood why someone would want to have kids. Sure he could stand them, but he doesn't know how he would handle his own.

"You don't even know me," you laugh out pitifully, "and falling in love with a slave? How pathetic of you," you tease him. Readjusting where your hands rested, you left one, the one nearest to Snake, to be placed behind you, leaning back on it.

Snake looks over at you, then down where you rested your hand. He reaches out to it, "If falling for a woman like you makes me pathetic, then-"

"You're idiotic. Nothing would save you from any words that you are about to speak at this moment."

Snake only finds that he can look at you as you look off to beyond the farthest stretch of land. He can only wonder what you dream of doing. What you dream of doing outside of the chains that a few coins placed on you.

"Snake," you speak his name, staying close to a whisper this whole conversation. "If you love me so much," that part grabs his attention more than his name leaving your lips does, "then you will wait. This is not a question, but a demand," you glance towards Snake one last time as he moves your hand to below his chin before looking off again.

"I will. I will wait forever if it ever comes to be at that point."

"Your words don't woo me as much as you wish for them to. You are but a serpentine of a man that wrapped himself around my arm, but never saw me as prey. Maybe an equal, then?"

"Definately it."

You hum at his response, smiling, but you aren't sure why. It was not because you were happy, even though you were. It was not due to smugness either. Contentment? You don't know. What kind of person doesn't know their own emotions?

You aren't even sure how you feel about Snake in return. Yes, you never liked him. He was, well, annoying and a bully, for a lack of better words, but you just don't know. Maybe, just maybe, you could finally see a different version of him. One that you might actually fall in love with.

How odd. The thought of falling in love with Snake. A man that you don't even know the true name of.

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Hamingja - A guardian spirit, depicted as a woman, that guides people to happiness. From Norse mythology.

Casanova - A man who has multiple female lovers. Synonym to womanizer.

Conceited - Someone who overestimates their own abilities and importance, leading to an unpleasant degree. Synonym to egotistic.

Diaphanous - Of fabric, so light weight and shear, that it is practically see through.

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Soft silk. Cloud like pillows and cushions that rest under you. A heaven in the morning and in the night. All or more than one of any class can ask for. The sun peaks in from the open curtain windows. The lightest breeze flows in the room through the cracks between the floor and the doors that lead to a view of the ocean. Heaven. A blessing. A gift. You are lucky. You should be grateful. You are. You just do not know. You do not know what to do. Why you… just are not yourself.

The wind comes through the cracks of the door and floor, but whispers come through, too. Whispers that sound awful like your own voice. Someone else's, too, but mostly yours. Your muscles feel heavy. Unmoving. Stiff, almost. Tired, no matter how often and long you sleep.

You long for something. Certain words from certain people. Or just one. Maybe you do not actually know what those words are or should be. So how can you tell that to anyone? How can you tell anyone you want to be left alone? Unless… it is just a sliver of affection from him. But he's busy. He always is. He tries, though… and that is what moves you. A little at a time. You still can not just get up.

You have been here so long. Rotting. You feel disgusting. A weight. Like a leach. Unmoving and unmotivated. You have been here so long. Everything seems dark aside from the middle of the morning light. The light where you know there is a clear, blue sky just right outside. A barren. A curse. A parasite. Too dependent. Too much of everything.

Why would he want to come here? In this room that goes to waste with you? Why would he want to touch you? The beautiful man you know. So full of heart. So eager to work. So eager to spend time alone… with you.

Every sensation on your skin feels heavy, even when it is under you. Every noise just beyond that door feels irritating. Too loud.

What can anyone do? Does anyone want to see you fixed? Or just watch you rot? Slowly..?

Knocking on the door. A call of your name just beyond those doors. The doors you feel too exhausted to even look at. Ja'far.

He walks in with no word. No word from him. No word from you. You do not turn to face him. You remain on your side, back to him. Though you wish nothing more to look at him. To hear his voice, not muffled from behind the door. That door you could not look at. That door you could not walk through.

“It is good to see you,” Jafar walks around the bed. The bed that is starting to hurt your aches.

You hum, acknowledging his words. You can barely see him. He is just out of sight. You whisper words Jafar barely catches. “I am tired…“

He hears you, and walks closer to you.

You found the small bit of energy that laid inside you, sitting up. When you move your head to look at him, the movement still feels heavy, but he smiles. He smiles at you. Jafar, the beautiful man you get to know.

You feel a tear well up in your eye and slip down your cheek. “I am exhausted doing the smallest of things.“

Jafar sits with you on the bed. He joins you. “Then I will help you.“ He pauses for only a second. Looking to the lightly flowing curtains, then to you. “Whatever you need.“

“What if… What if I do not know what I need,“ you shake your head, looking down.

“Then…“ He thinks, “I will wait with you.“

Your eyes start to water again, but tears do not fall. You look to your lap, where you have placed your hands. “Jafar,“ your voice soft and quiet, “I want to go outside, but I believe it may be too much.“

His eyes close, as he moves his hand to touch you, but he stops. His hand begins to fall before you pick it up. You hold his hands in your heavy ones. “I feel beyond broken.“

“You are not broken. You are human.“ You bring his palm to your cheek as he speaks. You love his words. You love the way he talks. You love his voice. You love the mouth the voice comes from.

You are starting to feel better. A little. You will still be in bed tomorrow, but Jafar will still visit tomorrow. He usually visits when he can, which is usually in the afternoon. Late, just a few hours before he allows himself to retire. Maybe tomorrow, when he visits again, it will be in the morning again.

Despite his words, you still feel heavy and bitter. Still, his words make it just a little better. The words from the whispers that made their way through the cracks in your mind slow down.

“I will always be here, even when you can not see me. I will wait with you when you need me to.“

You push your nose into his palm. A thank you. You find yourself unable to talk again. You find yourself feeling small, but not as much as it was.

Jafar is with you. He tries to talk to you, but he stays silent with you, too.

Sometimes words can be just as much as actions, and actions can just be as much as words.

His action of staying with you, despite his work, is just enough. His action of letting you hold his hand is enough. His action of hugging you when you lean into his chest is enough. This moment is just enough.

The whispers are still loud. The sunlight outside those curtains is still bright. The blanket and your clothes are still heavy. The bed is still harsh under you.

It is just bearable enough, however, when he lets you cry. When he lets you talk. When he lets the world inside the room be a little quieter. When he is just there with you.

Everything about him feels light, and quiet, and gentle.

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Ja'far doesn't get jealous, but he does get cautious when Sinbad is near you.

If you present feminine, that is. He is still cautious, but a little less so if you're masculine presenting.

Ja'far has no clue what he's doing. I mean, he has a small idea, but doesn't know how to execute a few things.

Examples:

Physical affection; he likes being close to you, but is very 75/25 with wanting to do PDA. The want being the 25%

Gift giving; Ja'far wants to give you everything in the world. Despite this, it is a very rare occurrence for Ja'far to have a gift for you.

Quality time; it's his time management. Ja'far is more than decent with scheduling his day! According to the work he needs to do... With that, you need to come to him 99.99999...% of the time.

Ja'far gives so many people the stinkiest stare if they look at you wrong or too long. Judgemental or not.

Anytime you hug or kiss Ja'far on the cheek (it has to be on the cheek!), he swears he could just wither away and die in the most peaceful way possible.

Ja'far doesn't know it, but when he's really tired and finally ready to sleep, he gets in your lap, and falls asleep seconds after.

That kind of leaves you stuck for a while, but oh well. Like cats law. You can't move if they're on you.

This man is a light sleeper. He knows this, but only realizes just how light of a sleeper he is when you guys start to share a bed. Any tiny noise from you, Ja'far's eyes are open.

Speaking of you two sharing a bed, he was nervous the first night you guys slept together.

Long after you fell asleep, he was still wide awake. His eyes kept flickering to you from the ceiling.

Ja'far trusts every one of the eight generals to guard you or just to be around you. Even Sharrkan. He may be a flirt as well, but he knows his place.

Sinbad always tries to get in between you two. Forceful third wheel, if you will. You two are talking? Sinbad. You guys are standing next to each other—holding the other or not? Sinbad. One of you two is going to the other? Sinbad. Etc., etc.. You get the point.

Ja'far obviously really likes you, and if Ja'far really likes you, so do Masrur and Kikiriku. Those three have a very brotherly bond.

Ja'far is clingy in his own way. The moment he gets on that boat to do a job, he is huffing and puffing.

Anytime he thinks of you, he sighs and visibly, to others, moves on with his day.

When he gets back to you, he is doing his best to stay as close to you as possible. At the very least, in the same room.

Ja'far likes looking at you. He likes how you move and go about your day, how you look, the little things you do that you aren't fully aware of. He is a big observer.

Every little thing matters to him, so that makes him communicate very clearly with you, and he encourages you to do the same.

He likes listening to you go about your day. Ja'far talks about his day with you, too!

You're kind of like his escape. I feel like he never exactly daydreamed before, and his significant other is the closest thing he can get to one; a thought he can so easily get lost in.

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