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Reshaper is hands down, no contest, the best cook-- no one else on my blog comes close to the vast array of cooking knowledge and recipes he knows.
Loved collecting different recipes from alien planets he visited in the past too,
Worst cook? Probably Jejune. They were never taught how to cook-- Jules didn't really have the time, even if he gave Jeje more attention than the others.
And then, well, they were a vampire by the time they left Jules's hive so they didn't need to learn to cook or even eat food anyway. They'd set something on fire after saying 'How hard can it be !'
pls N O | not shipping it | nah | maybe | I WISH it’d work | yasss | I ship it | wOW PLEASE!
2) … tell you shortly about how I think they’d work (or why they wouldn’t) in that quad/general opinion
GODDDD Okay... So, regardless of how much chemistry they had in the past when they were both active fleet together, Seifer wants Reshaper dead at this point. I really don't know what it would take, if anything, to quell the rage and soften the betrayal he feels about that guy...
I mean Seifer saw Tavian (Reshaper) not that long ago, fun fact! Only 10 or so sweeps back Tavian made a visit to speak with an old associate and that associate worked on Seifer's current Fleet vessel.
They made eye contact at opposite ends of the hall and actually had a brief altercation where Seifer violently tried to end his old friend. :]
HOWEVER,, In the past they were extremely close, I'm talkin' Seifer was his Lieutenant General and right-hand man.
Seifer was given relatively free reign of his own small squad and was the first and few who knew about Tavian's romantic entanglement with Vanalliea.
Seifer really trusted and valued Tavi's wisdom, free spirit, and peaceful, knowledge-seeking approach to fleet work. He wanted to be the one his general went to if he wanted to talk about what was on his mind or any time he doubted himself, y'know?
Plus, they'd known eachother since early in both of their fleet careers! Seifer admired Tavian's drive and determination to get a better position as a mutant and by fucking god did he get it-- and he brought Seifer up along with him!
Uhh.. rest under the cut bc I rambled a bit....
Tavian and Seifer would spend evenings chatting and cracking playful remarks at each other frequently, and they were known sparring partners. In the wink wink way and also in a fighting fr way--
They had a connection and a closeness in the past! One that Seifer fell into very strongly.. he def had some strong pale feelings with sprinkles of pitch tbh. The thing was, Tavian wasn't manipulating or using him by any means, but... he didn't really understand those feelings?
It was never about any intimate, romantic type connection for Tavian, it was just fun and enjoyable with someone he was entertained by the company of! And he kinda didn't take Seifer's feelings very seriously or acknowledge them much at all... other people's emotions felt alien to him and a bit like his playthings, at times. If that break of trust had never happened and they instead met now, after Tavian's grown more understanding and in tune with those things, then I think they could've had a real chance at being together,,
Setting: Reshaper’s Hive in the present; Flashback takes place in the distant past
----- Google Docs Link -----
You’re on bruised knees, the last one alive on a battlefield with a corpse weighing heavily in your arms. There’s cool blood seeping in between your fingertips. Your pole blade is sitting in their chest.
What did you do?
Looking to either side is difficult, like dragging your head through molasses. There’s a delayed double image to your vision and your ears are plagued by ringing. Everything smells so metallic. All of the muscles in your body are tense, like cables waiting to snap under the weight of fallen trees.
You try to blink, to calm down, but it only makes the image of the bloodied hundreds around you all the more vivid. They’re all looking at you, faces stuck in ghastly death stares. Oh, gods, there’s a horrible bile rising in your throat and you swear you can almost hear the screaming again.
Your eyes jolt open with a start, hands hitting the wooden table with an audible thud as you begin to gasp for air. The wooden chair you’d likely been sitting in lies a few feet behind you, tipped over. It takes you a few seconds more to realize where you are, looking around to see that you were not in fact on an alien battlefield, but rather in your own abode. Safe and alive.
What had felt like blood flooding through your fingers was in fact only spilled ink from when you’d apparently knocked over the inkwell.
What did you do?
You needed to wash up. To breathe some air. Fuck, what you really need was a hefty glass of wine. Yeah, that would calm your nerves, surely. You’d have to finish your letter later.
Walking wearily out of your back room and into the kitchen area, you pour yourself some wine. It’s a full glass, threatening to spill over and into your hands to wash them clean of what filled you with such deep remorse.
You halt a moment at the thought, losing all interest in having a drink and dropping the glass to the floor where you stand. It shatters, of course, sending shards and wine cascading across the floorboards. You can’t do this right now, you’ll clean it up later.
You list over to the couch nearby and fall upon it, putting your head into your hands. You owe them your regret, you know this, but why did it have to be like this? Well, you know why, you could never forget it.
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A couple people have given their names to him by this point!
Which he’s advised/warned against in the past because he is very capable of just stealing those whenever he wants now— he won’t though, because deep down he’s not that mean. (And Sunne is very cute too ofc)
Still, what if you meet someone like him! ‘Don’t be so foolish again’, he says. The implied ‘someone else may not be so kind’…
Oh! It’s probably worth mentioning for anyone that doesn’t know: Reshaper, my beloved blog gilf, used to be a general in the fleet until some bad things happened and he deserted, leaving his remaining crew behind!
Seifer was a part of that crew and can shed light on the situation and details thereof where Reshaper will not. <3
Ah, how you loved the end of a productive work day. You’d reshaped quite of few lives today, and for quite the variety of clientele no less, it was a fun day for you. Still, you always looked forward to the end of such days when you could relax.
Focusing on the thrum of new information-- new magic-- flowing through your veins could make it a bit difficult to wind down some days, but you usually shook it out by pampering yourself. A drink, reclining on your couch, watching your descendant fumble his way through child care, what’s not to love?
In fact, you’d just gotten comfortable in your silk robe and slipper-slides and were heading over to the kitchen when there was a series of heavy knocks on your door, all in quick succession and just oozing with some kind of panic.
Popping a hip to one side with a sigh, you tap your slipper on the floor, slightly annoyed. Obviously, you were going to try and wait them out, they shouldn’t be trying to bother you at this hour, there’s even an ornate ‘closed’ sign on your front door. A couple of minutes pass, but their distressed, intermittent knocking doesn’t cease. Another sigh.
“Devi scherzare…” you mutter with a roll of your eyes.
Walking up to the door you raise your voice to talk through the dense wood, “Yes, yes, I hear you, but I’m closed for the night Columba, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.” Assuming that would be enough to send them away, you turn on your heels and begin to step away and back to the kitchen. You only get one step in before they yell back through the door.
“Please, Mr. Reshaper, I need help right now I don’t have the time to waste, please!”
You close your eyes and open your mouth, about to callously turn them down, but the crack in their voice tells you they’re on the verge of tears. Curse you, why must your conscious kick in at such an inconvenient time? If anyone asked, it was solely your curiosity that led you back to the door, opening it up to see a teary-eyed blue looking up at you.
“Fine, come in, let’s hear it-- and do make it quick I’m missing a show for this.”
Despite your uncaring dialogue you rotate your wrist in an ushering motion with one hand and flick the other to pull a chair out and start the stove in one magical motion, a kettle now heating up on your stove.
There’s only a moment of hesitation before they hurry in and begin to pace by the chair, seemingly too high-strung to settle down. Their fingers are twitching and there’s definitely an anxious sweat sitting along their forehead.
Waving a hand to grab their attention you say, “Sit down, you’re going to run through the floorboards like that, kid.”
“I-- hey, I'm not a kid, I--“
“You are to me Dove, now sit down and start talking. What’s got you barging down your elders' doors this close to daybreak?”
You walk over as you ask, settling yourself down in the grand wood chair across from theirs, if for no other reason than to lead by example. It was more casual and you were all about keeping things relaxed for yourself, anyway.
Reluctantly they sit, but then their leg immediately starts to shake. Occasionally their head turns back to the door anxiously. Well now you don’t like that, they better not have brought trouble.
“Well c’mon, speak.”
They seem choked up at this as if all the things that they want to say are too emotional to get out right. You’re trying to be patient, you really are, but you’re a selfish old creature whose work day should be over already.
Finally, they start and the words flood through like a broken dam, “I.. I’ve been drafted and I’m a mutant, so what if they treat me badly or worse, kill me?! What if I don’t get to come home or I come back hurt-“ bubbles of their fear build up in tears at the corners of their eyes and burst into streams down their face.
You raise a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture and their mouth snaps shut. “What exactly is it you want me to do about it, young one?” despite the bite of annoyance you wanted your words to have, a hint of sympathy slips through too. Parts of their predicament are pulling on some particular heart strings of yours, not that the blue blood could know that.
The troll flounders for a moment, brain likely going a mile a minute. They finally open their mouth to try speaking, but you cut them off.
“I am willing to make you a deal if you agree to pay the cost of your request.”
They nod fervently.
“Use your words, kid, a nod isn’t enough for me.”
“Oh- okay… yeah, I agree,”
“Good, now tell me what it is you want.” You lean back into your chair, crossing one leg over the other and swirling your wrist to bring over two cups of the tea you’d been making in the background while this conversation went on.
“I want,” A sniffle and a shaky sip from the cup you’d given them, “I’d like them to have received an exemption from service document on my behalf, so I don’t have to go. Uh, Pl-please.”
All things considered, it wasn’t a difficult request at all, really it was one of the simpler ways they could’ve solved the problem. Even so, they’ve already bound themself to payment. You could take whatever you wanted…
Their favorite memories. Their name. Their ability to feel. Any and all of it, if you so chose. But you won’t, you knew that already, you tend to keep things relatively equal in your exchanges.
You don’t let any of it get to your head though, this isn’t some act of kindness, you are not some good man doing a favor. You’re doing this because there are glimmers of the situation that reminded you of yourself.
This is a selfish thing you’re doing and you are a selfish man.
“Your worst memory, the one that haunts you most, that is what I will take.”
Is that what you wish someone would do for you? It's hard to say.
