#coldtempered

The farther north a Dalish elf goes, the less safe it is.

The south is hardly safe for his people. of course. He’s under no delusions to the contrary. But at least in the south they try to be a bit more secretive about keeping slaves. Since he crossed the border into Nevarra he’s been nervous and jumpy. The feeling’s only gotten worse as he approached the border to the Tevinter Imperium.

Keeper Ghilanavhen had shot his idea down as soon as he’d brought it up, of course. It was rare for clans to venture this far north. There was something about Arlathan Forest that simply pulled him in, though. It was probably the fact that it was the closest thing the Dalish had to a homeland. It took him weeks of begging and needling to get permission for this trip.

In an attempt to keep himself hidden from anyone who might have some bone to pick with the People, Shouta’s wrapped himself in a cloak with the hood flipped up and pulled down as far as he can without blinding himself in the process. It might have helped a bit if he’d put on boots, but when he’d tried, he’d gotten the worst blisters of his life. A cloaked, barefoot traveler shouldn’t draw too much attention, right?

That’s what he’s hoping for as he slips into this Nevarran town. Even a Dalish elf can only procure so much from the wilderness- he’s low on arrows, which means he can’t hunt as much as he’d like, and he doesn’t trust himself to forage enough to keep alive in an unfamiliar land. The stone cities of the shemlen have always been the bane of his existence- this one is no different. The flagstone paths are rough on his feet. It’s noisy, loud, smelly, hot and crowded. Shouta might be tall for an elf but it’s still easy enough for shemlen to shove him around.

Enji requested Shouto be brought to his bedside. He was in the hospital, the battle having taken it’s toll. He was hoping Shouto was watching. He was hoping Shouto saw him fall and rise again. He was hoping Shouto saw him fight, and fight, even when he should’ve been on the ground dying. He was hoping Shouto watched with interest, with concern. He was hoping Shouto cared... he was hoping his son was proud of him.

When his youngest was brought into the room, he almost didn’t know what to say. Did you like the fight? Are you proud? None, none of those he can really say. Because in this moment, he stopped caring. He stopped caring about those things, because ehe was confused. A new emotion washed over him, one he never felt before. 

It made his heart beat, just a little bit faster. He was... happy, seeing Shouto again. Like a paternal warmth overtook him, he was happy his son was here. He nearly died. He nearly abandoned his boy. He nearly... he may have never been able to see his son again. To apologize properly, to become the man- the father- Shouto deserved. 

     Dabi Todoroki sighed as woke up to a freezing cold winter morning. He rolled over and the wood floor underneath him creaked, the blankets he was laying on shifted under him as he struggled to sit up. Sleeping on a floor was starting to make his back sore even though he was only 15. 

     He got up and grabbed his backpack. He stuffed his blankets back into it and pulled his coat tighter around him before slinging the bag onto his back. He needed to find a public bathroom today. He couldn’t stand his own smell anymore. 

     Dabi climbed out the window and down the fire escape of the otherwise boarded up old building. He had been lucky to find it. It was getting too cold to sleep in the park. He wondered how long he would stay there before the lot was purchased and the building was torn down.

    He ruffled the dust out of his unruly hair and started off down the street, in search of running water and maybe a store where he could ‘borrow’ some food. He knew a couple of hungover shop clerks that probably wouldn’t miss a few missing items. If they did, there was always his quirk to fight back. 

Shinsou had never expected to be given a trial. He was an abomination, half witch and half weapon. His witch father had kept him as an experiment and wielded him as his weapon, hoping to destroy the Death Weapon Meister Academy. He had been used to do many bad things. So when his father finally fell in the attack, he expected to be shattered as well. Instead what looked to be a student protected him from the death blow he was waiting for to finally end his misery. 

Todoroki wasn’t the kid he’d taken under his wing. Really, if him and his men were around for anything it was so that these kid’s that needed a alchemist’s licenses could go after their goals without too much trouble. They were under his orders, and those orders were strict but simple. Come back when he asked and keep yourself alive. 

So, when the kid came to his office without him asking he was shocked. His grey eyes shifting to the young alchemist standing before him. He hadn’t called and he hadn’t been requested, so he couldn’t only imagine what brought Todoroki back to Centeral. 

Bakugou: The Rocking Grenade Launcher

     “What do you mean I’ve gotta have a partner ?!      They’ve let me do every other mission solo !”

     The weapon was furious as he gazed upon the mission board in the DWMA hallway. He’d personally requested all his missions to be solo, regardless of the schools high disapproval, but he had proven himself quite capable to hold his own and gather kishin eggs. 33 to be exact. However, the school had swung a curve ball and paired the explosive boy with another weapon, Shouto Todoroki. He knew the other pretty well, but he wasn’t excited about this one bit.

    Without fail the other boy came up next to him, assuming to also look at the mission board. “It’s your lucky day, cold steel, you’ll get to witness greatness on this fine day.” The boy was cocky, one of his more present downfalls, but he truly believed he was the best weapon in the school. 

     “And for the record, I didn’t ask to be partnered up      with you--”