#flameclaimed

Send me ✫+ an AU and I’ll write 5 headcanons for that AU Modern w/ light magic

Fjord is a proper half orc, no excessively diluted blood. As such he gets a free slide in to college for being a previously discriminated against race. An equality act was passed years ago when technology began advancing.

He’s only going to college because Vandren wants something better for him than a trawlers life. Vandren is alive, but Sabian and Fjord are both adopted by him and unfortunately don’t get along, and Fjord doesn’t want to make trouble.

He’s going in for a marine study major, with a minor in abstract arcanum. Magic has largely been lost, or fairly integrated with technology. While it’s gotten more advanced, it significantly less powerful and raw anymore. Most people are lucky to get anything higher than a level 1 spell. And even THAT is an accomplishment.

He hasn’t told anyone he has magic. It’s just some cantrips, and a disappearing sword. But it… startles him. He knows it has something to do with the weird pet eel he got from an old fossil in his aquarium. It’s a creepy thing with three eyes that looks more like a snake, and far too intelligent. But it seems harmless enough.(And does this stupid fucking wiggle for fish flakes that never fails to make Fjord feel better about his day)

           “You are being insufferable.”Caleb was having a moment, Fjord knew. Caleb had been like this since day one, but fuck if Caleb was the only one allowed to have a bad fucking day. Fjord took a deep breath, his demeanor calmer on the outside than it was in truth– and grabbed his pack off the bed and wrenched the door open.             “Be alone, then.”

He frowns at the question, out of the blue. Well no- that wasn’t quite right was it? It was because of the blue. Jester had been at it again recently, and Fjord had deflected it as he normally does. And now, the girls are out shopping in the markets, and Caduceus was cooking dinner downstairs, leaving just him and Caleb in the happy room lounge.

Laid out over the couch, staring at the ceiling, logs propped across the far end of the furniture. Did he believe in love? Sure, but he wasn’t favorable of it. Not for himself. Did he think Jester loved him? No, he didn’t. It was infatuation because of a stupid romance novel she had gotten her hands on. Like every other woman who had ever entertained interest in him. They didn’t want love, they wanted strong muscles and a hint of feral brusqueness, a barbarian thing of muscle and tender reform. A monster they could dress as a man.

He wasn’t any of that. No fairy tale strength, not even a normal size for being half orc, let alone full orc– he was just a man. A plain jolly sailor bold who had wandered far from the sea. 

He rolls over, so his back is to Caleb when he answers.

His heart stops for a moment, his hand pausing by his hairline. Gold eyes locking on to Caleb as the words come out of his mouth. His breath catches and he clears his throat, continuing to smooth the hair back to the slicked curve that curled at the tips the way he styled it. 

The party in the background was impressive, with lights and curtains of colored cloth draped around the trellises of the gardens. Floating orbs like the familiar dancing lights Caleb uses move like lazy fireflies in the hanging vines and blooming flowers. Petals scatter the cobbled concourse and danced in the summer breeze. The whole thing, followed with the scent of fresh honeysuckle and gardenia made for one of the most romantic political assassinations he could imagine. 

            “Well…. I think, uh. That maybe … The invitation wasn’t              including a plus one,”He brings his hand back over his face, and his form shifts, like paper burning at the edged his skin turns a dark brown, eyes a striking honey brown, his scars gone. Human, but himself. Regal in his perfectly tailored outfit. A white tux with a teal sash about his waist, the red tassled rope binding it through the middle, and one wrapped about his right shoulder. 

               “And we are gonna get you in, but maybe something …                  less crude for the occasion. I know we’ve played the servant                  card before, but more dignified this time maybe? Nobles got                  that shit goin on right? Manservants?”

He waits a moment, straightens his lapel and smooths it out before looking at his hands. Clawless, a normal color, not calloused and nicked from years of labor or fighting; glances up at the looking glass and looks at the familiar face he’s envied and yearned for since he was a kid. Being human had been his dream for so long, and now it just feels wrong.

He looks back to Caleb, and gives a debonair smile, all charm and wit with those striking eyes, twinkling like they know a secret. He was going to move effortlessly in to the crowd. His accent drops in to something posh and deep that rolls in his chest like a thundering tide.

' of course not. i just put a new pot of tea on, come in. '

The cleric waved the other in, a soft smile on his face as he regarded the other. Something was going on with him, but there was always something behind those eyes of his. Of course, Caduceus wouldn't pry, unless it was really important. Mister Caleb seemed to have a lot on his mind, and who else would have the better ear than him? Probably Jester, she was a good person to talk to.

His room was filled with flowers. All different kinds and sizes, colors ranging from the most potent and bright pink, to a faded green and grey petals. Plants ranging from chamomile to peppermint, lavender and roses, plus a few that bloomed in a variety of shapes. The Firbolg waved him in and shut the door afterwards, moving to pour the wizard a small cup. The aroma came up, an easy and light scent that filled the space.

Fjord stays quiet, buried against Caleb. The space is small and cramped, but really the half orc is thankful for the comfort of someone familiar in this fucked up house. Caleb says there’s humming, like a song. That’s not what Fjord hears. It’s a deep snarling, hissing, slithering, a collection of flesh of flesh writhing over itself and the ragged wheeze of strained breathing that fills every inch of darkness.

His head hurts, he’s still bling from whatever that was they brushed against blowing smoke in to his face. Caleb wants to stay. The house wants them to stay, more like. The doors are only open if it wants them to go there, something is hunting for them, breaking doors down is useless and makes noise. 

He lets out a soft whine against the fabric of Caleb’s chest. How are they supposed to do anything when he can’t see his own two feet, let alone the maze this manor was building inside of itself?

The grasp on his wrist is secure, and he relaxed just an inch more against him. Seeking comfort. Seeking anything familiar in this horrible place. Where were the others? How were they doing? Was it trying to pull them in like it was Caleb?

   doot  is  trying  to  kill  me  i  guess  /  @flameclaimed

 as  fresh  as  the  pain  from  his  departure  still  is ,  she  could  never  quite  quell  that  longing  for  his  presence  in  her  life .  he’s  always  known  how  to  knock  down  her  defenses  with  little  more  than  a  flick  of  the  wrist ;  and  after  all  these  years ,  she  still  isn’t  immune  to  it .  astrid  isn’t  sure  she  ever  wants  to  be .  

  he  touches  her  face  and  she  breaks  at  the  seams ,  a  carefully  crafted  facade  falling  with  almost  no  effort .  she  blames  bre -- caleb ;  she  always  will . 

            ‘  i  am  angry  with  you .  ‘  she  says ,  simply .  her  voice  wavers  and  she  can’t  quite  meet  his  eyes .  ‘ but  i  --  i  still  want  you .  i  always  have ,  no  matter  what  it  has  cost  me .  ‘ 

  astrid  lifts  a  shaking  hand  to  place  over  one  of  his  wrists ,  rubbing  the  inside  of  it  with  her  thumb .  it’s  surreal ,  she  thinks .  

     ‘  always ,  bren .  caleb .  ‘  her  other  hand  grasps  at  empty  air ,  considers  how  easy  it  would  be  to  slip  a  knife  through  his  ribs .  end  this  for  both  of  them ;  no  more  pain ,  no  more  hiding .  but  she  can’t  do  it .