Farewell, Bastard

galen had promised himself he’d go look for ophelia when the attack was over but he hadn’t planned on oversleeping, exhaustion and worry taking hold of him. when the first rays of sun illuminated his window though he remembered and stepped outside to make his way towards one of the blonde’s usual haunts. he didn’t have to walk for long however has he spotted her, sword at her tip and a curse word on her lips. ophelias wasn’t like most of the young ladies he’d encountered, she wasn’t quite as uncouth as a street urchin might be but definitely far from ladylike either. he couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him at her words. “ophelia! thank the divines you’re not hurt. did you make good use of that sword of yours? was it beau that made it for you? if it was i’m not sure whether to kick his ass or thank him for it.” he exclaimed, pulling the girl into a side hug.

It was oddly bright for a morning on which the streets were still being cleared of bodies, but Llyr did not mind in the slightest. It made his position of waiting outside the bar much more enjoyable, at the very least. Thus, he easily overheard the young woman’s statement, and his lips curled into an agreeable smile at them. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Nothing like a bit of sun to chase away the terrors of the night. Still, it’s always good to be prepared,” he added, nodding at her weapon and patting the sword at his own side with one hand.

“HEY. LANGUAGE,” he said, though he didn’t really mean it. he placed a kiss to his sister’s head, and he thanked whatever divines out there that she was okay. he’d hate for her to be hurt or worse… 

“THOUGH, I DOUBT THAT’S THE LAST OF THEM. IT’D BE TOO EASY IF THEY JUST FUCKED OFF,” he grumbled, ignoring his own rule for her.

STARTER for @o-opheelia​ from CADEYRN

“DIVINES, GIRL. YOU’RE THE SPITTING IMAGE OF HIM. YOU’RE HONORIS’ BASTARD GIRL, AREN’T YOU? THE LITTLE HELLION WHO PUT SPIDERS IN MY BED THE ONE TIME I WAS VISITING ARELLA?”

he didn’t seem too upset by the prank any longer, though he had shouted and cursed the land of arella for a few months. he hadn’t been too mad at the girl. more the spiders than anything.

“Excuse you, my lord.” her infamous grin was ever present on her face, deceptively cherubic despite the mischief in her eyes. “you’ll find i’m much prettier than my late father.” as if to emphasize, she gave a little twirl, dress flaring up around her ankles. “also, no one ever proved that it was me who put 62 spiders in your bed.”

“The reason for wanting to be sick, I doubt, is entirely due to the mess,” Holden pointed out, picking up the wine bottle she had just drained, and eyed the label. “I’d think you’d have grabbed top shelf spirits. Maybe after we clean and need a moment to contemplate our mortality together, we can share a glass,” He finally gave her a small smile, and set the bottle back down. It made him happy that she had accepted his offer of help, instead of insisting to down another cheap bottle and pushing him out the door to be by herself.

He bent down and righted a fallen stool, and then looked across the bar. “Please tell me you have a mop or at least a broom somewhere around here. I don’t really feel like going down on my hands and knees to scrub this floor clean by hand.”

her face flushed, not from the alcohol, but rather embarrassment. “i can’t reach the top shelf...” she glanced to the side, eyeing the step stool that she had used at one point as a shield. it was no longer a step stool, and instead would make some rather good kindling in the event that a fire needed to be made. “so i just grabbed what i could.” her foot scuffed the wooden floor, but she swallowed her own resentment at her shorter stature and walked away, searching for a broom. 

“i don’t know what you mean, mortality, i’m going to live forever.” she called over her shoulder as she ducked into the back room. “i’ve got too much to do to ever die.” she emerged, a broom in one hand and a mop in the other. “for example, who else will clean this shit place?”

damn it all. how could he deny his little sister anything? he was just as wrapped around her pinky finger as her father had been. he lets his head fall back. “SHE’S — I DON’T KNOW! SHE’S MY…” everything. she is my everything.

“NO MORE QUESTIONS ABOUT ANNA OR HER STAYING IN MY HOUSE!” wait till she finds out about the kitchen table… divines preserve me. he cups his little sister’s cheeks, and he looks down at her. “I KNOW YOU CAN WIELD A SWORD. THAT’S WHAT I’M WORRIED ABOUT, YOU HOLDING LIVE STEEL.” he laughs a bit at that, the absurdity of this little blonde sprinting out into battle. but with that images comes the image of one failure and her… his face goes stone sober.

“OPHELIA. WE HAVE ALREADY LOST…SO MUCH. I… CAN’T LOSE YOU TOO.”

she laughs, delightedly soaking up all affection her brother saw fit to bestow. “forgive my wariness but you have awful taste- don’t think i’ve forgotten that scullery maid.” she places her hands over his, squishing her cheeks together, hoping the pressure would cut down the growing urge to fight. 

“i would only use it against our enemies.” she reassures him, gently clenching her hands around his. “we could fight side by side, write our names in history with our deeds.” a fire alights behind her eyes, burning bright with what may be madness. but his soft plea dims the battle lust, and her eyebrows draw together. despair was never a good look on her brother.

He stayed put, folding his arms across his chest. He hadn’t known Ophelia for that long but he already felt some sort of responsibility towards her, and seeing her both bloody and drinking at this hour pissed him off somewhat.

“You’re better than alright….” Holden repeated back, glaring her down. “You’re ‘better’ because you’re already drowning the events and memories at the crack of dawn. Put that down.” He had no authority to tell her to do anything, but it was worth a shot. 

He was use to her insults but if anything, they let him know she was feeling like her usual self, which made him feel somewhat better. “And if we’re talking about anyone looking like shit, I advise you take a gander in the mirror at some point.” He finally walked over towards the bar and Ophelia, his arms still folded, fingers tapping irritatingly on the leather of his jacket. “Do you need help to clean this place up?” He offered, scowling at the disarray of the place.

the part of her that is a king’s daughter is insulted by his tone- but she stamps it down with glee over someone willing to bite back. “i’ll have you know that this,” and she tips the bottle back to finish off the bottle. “is weaker shit than i grew up drinking.” she slams the empty bottle on the table, head cocking to the side. “i’m fine, holden. you don’t need to worry about me. i can hold my own.”

s: - closed @o-opheelia​

l: - The Lucky Hunter Tavern

The aftermath of the first night had been brutal. The streets were a mess, glass window’s shattered, and the unfortunate remains of both newly and raised dead were littered about. He was scouting out the places of people he cared about, surreptitiously looking in to store fronts or making sure doors were locked before moving on. 

Holden’s last stop was the Lucky Hunter tavern, and he felt his blood run cold at the sight of the door hanging off its hinges. He would lie later and say he didn’t dash up quickly to the steps to look inside, but he did just that and stepped gingerly inside. 

She was sitting at her own bar, her feet kicked up onto the stool beside her, her clothes a dirty mess, her hair unruly, and a smugness about her that screamed I did something I probably shouldn’t have. 

“You’re alright,” Holden said, and then coughed to cover his worried tone, a heavy frown crossing his features. “You didn’t fight those creatures, did you?”

sometimes she hates how impulsive she gets. it always starts as a low hum in the back of her mind, urging her to do something she knows would be frowned upon. ignoring the urges will sometimes cause them to dissipate- but every once in a while it evolves into an itch just below the surface of her skin, something she can almost visualize crawling in abstract patterns around her arms and legs until she finally gives in. 

learning to fight was one of the crawling urges, slithering in her neck until she’d begged faustus to teach her. and apparently fighting the dead in the middle of the night in defense of one of the only places she actually cared about was a burning creature crawling in her breast. so she’d stolen a sword from her brother’s house and carved a path to the Lucky Hunter. from there it was a blur, but she held her own and the fierce pride she claimed from that feat was enough to settle the beast in her chest.

STARTER for @o-opheelia from FAUSTUS

“NO. NO NO NO. YOU’RE GOING TO BE STAYING WITH ME AND MY… UH. ME AND ANNA. WE’RE GOING TO HOLE UP IN MY HOUSE, AND I AM GOING TO PROTECT YOU.”

he points to her, adorable as she is. “AND YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO BE MISCHIEVOUS. YOU’VE GOT THAT LOOK IN YOUR EYE. AND I WON’T ALLOW IT LIKE FATHER DID.” he absolutely will allow it like father did. his little sister could tell him to commit arson, and he would do it for her.

please don’t tell him to commit arson. not again.

there’s screaming in the air- but that’s no longer the surprising event that it may have been even a few days ago. and ophelia can’t bring herself to care as the grin that splits her face is more manic than amused. “your what? faustus, your what!?” she bares her teeth, latching onto his slip up. “your anna? is she your anna, brother?” 

✧･ﾟ: * ( cis female / she/her / elle fanning ) — welcome to ireyne, [ OPHELIA ] of [ ARELLA ]. when the doom came, you were [ UNALTERED ]. at [ NINETEEN ] years of age, the world around you changed. the act of [ BAR MAID ] suits you; after all, the whispers always said you were [ SOCIABLE ] but also [ MISCHIEVOUS ]. you are [ NEUTRAL TO ] the doom.