#avversiera

     Wide, dark eyes stare off to the side for a few moments as the young man registers what had just happened--of the sharp sound of an open hand making harsh contact with his cheek, and the searing, stinging sensation that followed such a violent action. Robin had thought the dark flyer looked rather angered and annoyed with him just a few minutes into this little dispute of theirs, and he felt much the same, but never had the man actually thought she’d strike out at him--not like this, at least. Granted, being slapped is still better than the woman actually sicking a nasty spell on himself, but that does not make her action any less painful, or unexpected. Furrowing his brow and turning his head back to face the female, a firm frown forms on the man’s lips, followed by a low growl. Robin is not the kind of man to raise his hand to a woman like this, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to take this lying down.

   “What the hell was that for?!”

     Not exactly what he intended to say, but it is the first thing to leave his lips--an outraged kind of inquiry. The young man’s features contort to that of a half-hearted snarl, honestly trying to not lose his temper, but also feeling like Aversa is making that very difficult for him to do.

(continued from ask)

Niles was perhaps a little bit past tipsy. Certainly, he was drunk enough to find a snort of laughter to be the appropriate reaction when Inverse managed to spill a glass of water on herself. And he was drunk enough for it to take at least ten seconds to process that what happened next was very much out of the ordinary.

By the time Inverse managed to gasp out those few words, Niles was on his feet, adrenaline chasing the effects of the alcohol from his system. Thinking fast, he dragged Inverse up into his arms, barely having time to marvel at the fish tail attached to his companion before sprinting out into the night. There was a lake nearby- it only took a minute to reach it, and he hastily bent down and rolled Inverse into the water.

     The gentle flicker of a dying flame cracked and sputtered against the warm breeze that rolled lazily through the haphazard camp; rustling the off-white fabric of thick tents and tugging at the twine that kept them rooted to the ground. With summer just rolling in, the stench of marigolds and the salty sea hung in the night air as it poured over the ever growing, but currently slumbering army. The sound of shuffling feet and war plans forgotten amidst the gentle clutter of soft snores and relaxed breaths that consumed the ragtag group when it was well past two in the morning. And it was almost a strangely peaceful sight; with weapons stored in their keepers’ tents or tucked away safely on the convoy, hidden from view, and the relaxed posture of horses tied to a makeshift pole, as if the ills of war and loss didn’t follow the group wherever life would take them (such was the price to pay for battle and betterment, after all). 

     Black wings beat gingerly in sky towering over the camp, carefully, but quickly carrying the bird’s body downward as her massive talons extended; smacking against human flesh and digging their pointed edges through thin fabric until they were leaving behind marks upon already scarred and tattered skin. But the dark mage’s expression never changed; not even the faintest hint of pain flashing through his gaze as he drew his arm to his chest, reaching out to brush his fingers over the crow’s soft feathers. Picking him out in the dead of night wasn’t an usual sight; sleep was a rarity to Henry, and he often spent his nights lurking about the camp grounds, or teaching the crows how to properly keep watch. 

        “Did you find anything, Quill?” He prodded, his voice soft enough not to stir his sleeping comrades or startled the tired horses (hopefully this would go far more smoothly than last night when Merlin had managed to wake the entire camp screeching only for them to find out the willful bird was warning them about an oddly shaped rock, in his defense, Henry did think it looked a bit like a man if he squinted hard enough). Sleek feathers rustled against his arm as the crow flapped her wings sightly before craning her neck to extend her beak to the left. “Oh! Maybe it’s an assassin, yeah?” He chimes, slipping onto his worn sandals, and brushing loose strands of grass from his tights before moving in the direction the animal had indicated.    

          Even in the dreadful stillness, he doesn’t make a sound as he easily dodges about the seemingly wayward set up of the camp (it’s hardly so, and, perhaps, surprisingly, Henry had it’s layout memorized and can name the occupants of ever tent he passes). He doesn’t need Quill to guide him; instead, the way she puffs out her chest and digs her talons deeper into his skin is enough to let him know he’s heading in the right direction, as well as how close he is to the object of Quill’s budding nerves. She was not one of his more outgoing birds; she tended to hang to the back of his odd collection, but she was intelligent and rather calm. Her caution made her a good fit for the job, even if one of his more aggressive companions might have seemed the ideal choice at first glance.  

【♟】 ______________________________

A little sleep. Simple folding of the hands. Blank stare.

That was all that Aversa has done since the sun set and the night settled in. She couldn’t handle what slumber brought. Not with the nightmares plaguing her thoughts constantly. The dark flier is running on fumes and pure adrenaline. Her purple-colored hues shut here and there, but she jolts upward in attempt to stay awake.

Why is she doing this to herself?

Her hands trailed over her face as she doubled over in the seat she sat in. Awake or dreaming…she never could tell the difference. Master Validar was always there inside her mind nevertheless. Taunting, cursing, degrading her as if he was still alive. The redeemed woman wished she could deny these illusions, but god they remained no matter how much she cried or screamed. Putting the past behind felt impossible.

The more sleep deprived she becomes, the stronger these distortions seem to become. Yet, going to sleep wasn’t any better.

These inward thoughts ceased when hearing the tent flap to her humble dwelling peel back. The vixen slowly glanced over her shoulder with her hands still over her face, peeking in-between her fingers. Her eyes widen as if she was seeing a ghost before her. In fact, it was her adoptive father that stood before her. His questioning tone caused her to break into actuality: it’s…Prince Chrom paying her a visit. Thankfully.

❝Y-Yes? Do you acquire my assistance?❞

Little did the lord know that the dark flier was having some trouble sleeping when he decided to swing by to check on her and ask her advice for the upcoming battle.

He stood in front of her tent, calling her name a couple of time before hearing some shuffling inside. Was she alright? He got a little bit worried so he, reluctant, peeked his head inside. Once he spotted the silver-haired sitting on a chair, he tilted his head, eyes narrowing down. She did not seem ‘fine’ at all. For now, he will tread safely around her. Despite wanting to be her friend, he cannot impose his opinions on her. Unlike Robin who he can pretty much lecture at any given moment if he spotted them neglecting their health.

【♟】 ______________________________

❝She’s just a TEMPTRESS, don’t you know? Stop calling out her name when we spend quality time together…You won’t make it out alive if you do. So, go ahead: say you love me instead. SAY IT!❞

Much of what the silver-haired woman uttered was horribly taken out of context. This “quality time” she spoke of was visiting her poor victim of captivity. When beating the man to a bloody pulp daily, he recently cried out for Robin’s help. Aversa’s blasted “sister”, of all people. 

This spiraled her into even more unpredictable moods as of lately. Until now. As of now, she is DEMANDING Gavroche to take those words back.

The illusion of him being her lover and pet was quivering, and it must be fixed. Without giving the other time to react, she plunged her knife into his stomach with furious intention as he laid bound to her bed. She hung her head with a scream after she did it, her eyes widening as she breathed heavily due to anxiety. Why isn’t he saying what she wants?! Must she stab him once more?!

❝Choose who loves you MORE! ME!❞

He had made a mistake. One that he had mentally scolded himself for as soon as her name had left his lips. Robin. The one person in that blasted world who truly meant anything to him. The one person that might even convince him to stay, or the person he’d ask to go back with him should he return to his kingdom.

He missed her. Captivity did not treat him well. And in a moment of foolishness he had cried out her name. His own blood running cold when he’d done so. That one word alone causing his captor to lash out in a flurry of anger. With such ferocity that he had yet to see from her.

Did it upset her so that he loved her ‘sister’ more than he did her? What was she expecting of him?

“I...”

His words were cut off. Eyes looking to the knife that was put to rest in his stomach. The pain not hitting him immediately. His brain first trying to register just what had happened. A breath of air sucked in and held as everything soon came rushing at him all at once.

“She...”

Blood oozed from the wound. Pain was trickling it’s way from the injury and up. but with everything the sorcerer had been through during those weeks of torture, wasn’t being stabbed just another inconvenience?

“And just why are you employing that crude, coy tongue of yours? My lord Berkut has enough to deal with without your prattle! Know your place, witch, and be silenced.”

Fernand glared at the harrier with resentment. As for why Rigel tolerated her employ, he hadn’t a clue. Only that she was especially irksome. Irately, he made a point of ignoring the satchel she had requested him to bring to her. 

// I want to see that movie so badly sgalmsjsos. Is it worth seeing? //