#pv writes

oh, ABSOLUTELY! <3

this actually got WAY longer than I expected, so I hope you enjoy!

~

It’s Thimble who brings it to his attention, because of course it is. Julien may have developed a grudging respect for the pixie as they have traveled together, but he’s still fairly certain she exists on this plane simply to torment him at every possible opportunity.

Right now, she’s in her smaller form, flying next to his head like a particularly insistent insect. They’re on a scout mission, away from the rest of the group, but not one that requires stealth, so she feels free to chatter. “So,” she chirps, and Julien mentally braces himself; he rarely enjoys her preferred topics of conversation. She talks about Thjazi far too much.

He’s not the one on her tiny mind today, evidently. “You’re really protective of Occtis, huh?” Julien can feel her intent gaze on the side of his face, though he has no idea what it is she’s looking for.

Mention of the undead wizard of their group brings immediate images back of their last skirmish. The boy putting himself in harm’s way to get close enough to cast a spell, Julien shielding him when the beast they were fighting would have speared him through the back with its claws. It’s not the first time he’s done it. The damned fool seems not to care about his continued existence, so Julien makes sure he doesn’t end up fully dead.

“I wouldn’t think you’d be complaining. He needs to be protected,” he grumbles in response, shooting Thimble a sidelong glare. “He’s almost as reckless as—“

“You?” She counters with a taunting grin, and Julien barely resists the urge to flick her out of the air.

“Or you, or the wild man,” he retorts instead, voice tight. “You’ve been bad influences on him.”

“I don’t see you putting your ass on the line to protect me or Kattigan, though.” Julien stiffens a little. Of course he’s not going to try to protect them. Thimble is a shockingly ferocious fighter, stronger now with Callowyn’s bracers and her human-sized form. Kattigan might be a mess, but he’s capable as well, and far from fragile. Occtis is… different.

There’s nothing strange about it. Julien is a vassal knight, defending the closest thing they have to a noble in their motley band. Occtis is dangerous in his own way, but physical altercations are not his strong suit. He could be brought down far too easily, and Julien intends to keep that from happening at whatever cost.

Thimble, greatly daring now, lands on his shoulder, grabbing a hank of his hair to steady her as Julien goes to shrug her off. “I would’ve thought you’d be glad to see him dead. Do you like him or something?” There’s a too-amused glee in his voice, and Julien growls out a curse, raising a hand to brush her off. She leaps back into flight before he can, buzzing in front of him, hovering just at eye level. “You’ve never gotten that protective of anyone but Lady Aranessa!”

He doesn’t have a coherent response, just another snarled curse as he tries to knock her out of the air. Damn her dextrous hide, she keeps avoiding him, but at least she shuts up, too busy dodging and flying ahead of him to say anything more.

She has no idea what she’s talking about, anyway. Julien is just doing what’s tactically best for their group, and what he’s been trained to do, acting as a sword and shield, even if it’s for someone not his liege lady. There’s nothing else to it.

~

He’s determinedly not thinking about Thimble’s insinuations the next time they’re in battle and he almost instinctively shoves Occtis behind him to take a sword blow intended for the necromancer.

He’s not thinking about them when Occtis hovers over him afterwards and patches him up, what little healing magic they have expended for the moment and the party having to rely on more common means.

He’s not thinking about them when he keeps his eyes on the boy as they skirt too close to an encampment of Seremai soldiers, and old terror begins to surface in his eyes at the sound of a familiar voice of one of his siblings among the serpent knights.

He doesn’t like Occtis Tachonis in any conceivable way, particularly not the juvenile, romantic way Thimble was implying. The boy is… capable. Clever. Not at all like the rest of his family, and clearly not complicit in their crimes. Julien… respects him. But he doesn’t care in the least about him.

He doesn’t care, he reminds himself as a strike of poisonous magic sends Occtis toppling and a spear of panic lances through Julien’s chest. It’s just the adrenaline of a fight and the worry of losing a capable ally. That’s the only thing that has his heart beating faster and his temper raging until he cuts down the Seremai fuck who flung the vicious spell. He doesn’t care as he barks out an order for Kattigan to heal the wizard, who lies crumpled and unmoving, skin tinged a sickly green. He doesn’t care as he goes to check for a pulse that logically he knows isn’t there, barely stopping himself.

Thimble hovers over them, worried, but there’s something knowing in the look she casts Julien, too. Then Kattigan is casting a Cure Wounds, and Occtis is stirring, and Julien pulls back before anyone can ask any fucking questions.

Whatever Tachonis sibling was here is gone before he can reach them, and Julien remains in a foul temper for the rest of the night. His gaze keeps sliding to Occtis, though, still looking shaky and unwell in the aftermath of the poisoning, and he swallows his more vicious words and complaints. But he doesn’t care.

~

Occtis almost kills himself healing Julien in the midst of a battle, and the moment they are free of it, he rounds on the boy, backing him into a corner. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

The wizard is still on his feet, if barely, but temper flashes in those eerie green eyes. “You could have died. Am I supposed to apologize for keeping that from happening?” His voice is firm, but Julien can see the slight shakiness in his hands, the way his tall form slumps in exhaustion.

“I am an acceptable loss. You could have died with that spell. That is not—“ Julien abruptly loses whatever reasoning he had as Occtis’ gaze pins him, brows furrowed, confused, searching.

He has never noticed how well he’s come to read and comprehend every expression that crosses the other’s face, every slight twitch of a lip or lift of a brow. Julien has been watching him for so long, silently cataloging and memorizing without realizing he was doing so.

“Why?” A single word, sharp as a dagger. “Why are you an acceptable loss and I’m not? Why do you care, Julien?” It’s not the first time Occtis has asked him that - and part of him still regrets how he responded the last time, outside of Obrimus Manor so many weeks ago. He let the other continue to believe that there are only two people in this world who care about him, and that’s—

But he doesn’t care. Does he?

Fuck.

It doesn’t make any sense. Occtis is a fucking Tachonis, he’s a weird little undead wizard with a strangely macabre sense of humor and a pet fox made of fox corpses, he’s—

Julien can’t stop protecting him.

He can’t stop looking at him. Watching him, following him like the second shadow he swore he would be. He can’t stop wanting to keep him from more harm than has already been done to him, to avenge what his family has done to both of them. He doesn’t know when the offense against Occtis was folded in with his own motives for vengeance, but it feels… right, natural, like it has been that way all along.

It’s insane. It’s insane, and it’s painful, and the worst part of all of it is that Thimble was right.

“I just… do,” he manages to get out numbly, and he watches surprise register over those gaunt features. It’s a better answer than his last one, maybe, but Julien still can’t find words to make sense of all he’s just realized.

“Occtis returning the attempts at comfort under mental distress, in the form of "uh... would you like to hold my undead fox?" and/or the world's most awkward attempt to intellectually dissect and replicate the casual physical-contact gestures that were clearly Julien's go-to when Occtis was distressed. (Julien got a vision of undead monstrosity Raimond fighting Teor and Cyd even if he didn't go down there, which has to be fuel for some nightmares once he slows down long enough to think about it.)”

I love this so much, it’s absolutely THEM.

~

Julien has nightmares.

He hasn’t said anything to anyone, but Occtis knows what they look like. It’s one of the benefits of not sleeping anymore, that he doesn’t have to endure horrible dreams any longer - he’s definitely had plenty in the past, something that just might be due to the constant influx of power from the Tenebral Reaches spilling into his family homes. So he knows the signs, even if Julien doesn’t say a word. He shifts in his sleep, restless, murmuring sounds that are sometimes half-intelligible words, sometimes just noises that almost sound like pain. He’s not getting adequate rest; there are dark shadows beneath his eyes, and his usually fluid grace is lacking, his movements stiffer and slower than usual. Occtis can hear it every time his heartbeat speeds up or his breathing stutters out of the calm rhythm it should have in sleep, though he doesn’t mention it, either.

Julien will take it as pity, and it’s not. After what they saw in Obrimus Manor, Occtis would be having nightmares too, if he were still capable. And he didn’t even have to glimpse whatever monstrosity his family had been making of Raimond Davinos. Thimble’s description of it was bad enough; Julien had gritted his teeth and looked away with something like recognition when she had told them, and Occtis wonders if he somehow saw it for himself.

If he did… well, it would certainly explain the nightmares. Occtis can sympathize. But he doesn’t know what to do about it.

House Tachonis were never big on comfort. They viewed needing reassurance as weakness, being beholden to emotions that are unnecessary in those of their station. So Occtis has very limited experience with trying to offer kindness to another person.

He considers what Thimble would do - though given this is Julien, that’s probably a bad idea. The pixie has a certain brand of tactless forthrightness that, while it can be reassuring in its own way, isn’t exactly comfortable.

He considers what Thaisha might try - but again, while she has a great deal of empathy and kindness, she’s also a sort of direct that might not be the best option in this situation. Occtis can’t really find any kind of solid pattern to follow that might create the results he’s hoping for, and this isn’t exactly the time to experiment with trial and error.

Then he remembers Julien outside of Obrimus Manor, his attempts to keep Occtis from losing himself in panic and dread. He remembers warm hands on his shoulders, a bracing sort of contact, a slight softening in the other’s typically caustic tone. He barely remembers actually leaving the Manor and getting back to Hal’s house in the Rookery, having retreated somewhere deep into himself at the sight of his father’s murderous rage, but he remembers those touches.

Contact seems a common way to attempt comfort, and a language Julien seems to respond to. Which means that it would likely be the best option.

Trouble is, Occtis has no idea how to go about it.

He’s not used to being touched, other than by a few select people. Even then, too much casual contact is overwhelming, something he doesn’t understand or appreciate.

Still. It’s the start of an idea.

~

He watches the rest of the party closely for the next few days, taking note of every bit of interpersonal contact, trying to judge and gauge its effect. Kattigan eyes him strangely, and Thimble makes a comment about him being weirder than usual, but Occtis continues to observe. He jots notes down during his sleepless nights, trying to find patterns, to make sense of what works when and why. Bolaire seems to recognize what he’s doing in some capacity, but he doesn’t comment; now that Occtis knows what the other is, he wouldn’t be surprised if he has a similar lack of understanding of this complex language of touch. He’s had longer to figure it out, though.

At least Occtis is making some progress, beginning to find some understanding. So the next night Julien has a nightmare and wakes in a cold sweat in the dim hours after midnight, Occtis steels himself, and reaches out.

The knight flinches when a cold hand closes on his shoulder, jerking back and instinctively reaching for the rapier lying next to his bedroll. He stops when he realizes it’s only Occtis, and in the dim light, the arcanist can see the confused frown knitting his brow. “What are you doing?”

Occtis panics, just a little. It’s far from the intended result, and he pulls back, grasping for words of an explanation. “Uh. You just— your dreams, I know you’re—“ Shit. He’s not good at this. This isn’t academic, it’s emotional, and he has zero healthy framework to fall back on.

In that moment of mentally flailing ineptitude, Pin emerges from the pocket dimension he’s supposed to stay in, dropping directly onto Julien’s lap. The fox looks up at the man with button eyes, and he stares down at it for a moment - then starts to laugh, though quietly, so as not to wake the rest of their party.

Occtis winces, shrinking back as if he can disappear into the shadows on his side of the tent. “He’s… better at comforting people than me, I guess.” The words are muttered mostly to himself, but Julien’s gaze darts back up, a flicker of something there and gone behind his eyes.

He half-expects the man to fling the undead fox away, but instead he lets a hand drop to Pin’s back, lightly stroking over the fur. It’s a repetitive, soothing motion, and Occtis can hear Julien’s heartbeat slowing, steadying. He lets out a long sigh of a breath, and slowly, the tension begins to seep out of his muscles. “Hm. I suppose he is useful.” The words should be insulting, but they sound calm, almost approving.

Also here's an Alex hand as payment 🩷

I will ALWAYS accept alex hands as payment and also HELL YEAHHHHHH. putting this somewhere vaguely after canon happenings because I KNOW julien is gonna throw occtis’ ass over his shoulder again sometime, it’s absolutely going to happen.

we’re making this nsfw because we caaaaaan

(also yeah i know Occtis doesn’t technically have Hold Person as a spell that we’ve seen but WHO CARES RULE OF HOT. let him get just a little Tachonis-y, as a treat.)

~

Occtis isn’t sure he can do anything but stare.

Kattigan has just tossed a half-filled leather pouch his way with a careless, “Thought you could use these.” The necromancer doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the bounty now before him.

Bones. Each of them pristine, carefully removed from the remainder of the skeleton that provided them. Automatically, Occtis begins to mentally identify each one: rabbit, grouse, deer, raccoon. Nothing supernatural, simply the sorts of things a hunter would come upon in the course of their work. It’s not the nature of the bones themselves that floors him. It’s that each one has been carefully, exquisitely carved - some with geometric designs, others with vines and flowers. Nothing that changes the essential shape of the bones, but simply adds another, beautiful dimension to them.

He doesn’t know how long this must have taken. Or why Kattigan has done it at all.

The man is watching him expectantly, and Occtis tries and fails to find words. He runs a fingertip along one of the carvings, and finally manages to get out a stilted, “What?” The awkwardness of the question is immediately embarrassing, but he can’t shove the word back down his throat.

Kattigan doesn’t look bothered in the least by such a lackluster response to his generosity. “Been watching you with your magic, looks like you have to use a lot of… stuff, right?” Mutely, Occtis nods, and the older man gives a casual shrug. “Figured these might be useful for that. Just extra pieces, that sort of thing.” It’s all so matter-of-fact, as if this isn’t a gift that he’s gone out of his way for. Even if the carvings suggest otherwise.

Occtis feels a lump in his throat, swallows abruptly to try to hide it. He’s rarely been given anything. Gifts were not something common in his family, especially not for him. Thimble and Thaisha have occasionally offered little things, usually bits and pieces of the natural world that they are both so tied to. This is… different. This is useful, and more than that, thoughtful in a way he can’t explain or place. Kattigan has no reason to do something like this for him.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Thank you.” It’s more of an effort than it should be to get the simple words out, and Kattigan grins. There’s an amused glint in the other’s eyes that Occtis can’t quite place. He reaches out, ruffling the arcanist’s hair, a strangely almost fond gesture that should seem awkward, but somehow doesn’t.

“Any time you need any more, let me know, yeah?” He waits for Occtis’ slightly stunned nod before turning to cross the campsite and leave him be.

Occtis spends the rest of the night sorting through the carved bones, memorizing the feel of each design under his fingertips.

“Occtis learning wither and bloom to heal Julien back from the verge of death/Occtis getting to save his knight for once”

yessss I LOVE occtis getting to save julien’s ass for once <3

~

The world is going black around him.

Julien is bleeding heavily, surrounded by enemies on three sides, backed into a corner. The emblem of House Vachari gleams on the armor of the warrior before him, and he bares his teeth in a snarl as the bastard brings up his blade one last time. He’s fought hard, wounding all of them, but not enough. They have isolated him deliberately, intent on removing the threat he poses to their liege lord.

So this is where he falls. He curses one more time as he drops to his knees, refusing to die without the last word.

Somewhere in the distance, he hears a wordless shout, familiar but fading rapidly as everything begins to spiral away. All he can see is the blade descending for the final blow.

Then—

Above him, the Vachari knight chokes, grip faltering on his sword. The two on either side do the same, one clutching their throat, the other whirling to see what has attacked them. The blade drops from suddenly nerveless fingers to land harmlessly in front of Julien, and as his gaze follows it down, he sees the grass and tiny flowers beneath them wither into dust.

The soldiers are withering too, skin drying and cracking as every drop of moisture and life is drained from them. They gasp desperately for air, and Julien has the momentary satisfaction of thinking that at least they’ll die with him.

But as he feels his consciousness begin to fade, something bursts into life beneath his skin, flooding through him with a power that almost scalds him from within. His heart stutters into a swifter rhythm, and wounds begin to knit, his eyes flying open again.

Just beyond the collapsed Vachari, he sees the glow of green eyes, a gloved hand extended, a sickly greenish mist encircling the fingers. Julien sees that same mist wrapping around him, breathes it into his lungs, feels that power stabilizing and mending him. Occtis’ power, Occtis’ magic - death giving way to life, dragging it from his assailants and forcing it into Julien’s veins, keeping him from falling.

~

“Pretty boy?” Occtis’ voice is slightly incredulous; it’s not the first time Kattigan has called him that, but it’s the first time it’s really registered.

“Yeah.” The ranger’s voice is gruff and matter of fact. “Got a problem with that?”

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Occtis mutters in return, mostly to himself. He doesn’t count on the other’s sharp hearing, definitely doesn’t expect the burst of laughter in answer.

“You do know what you look like, right?” Kattigan’s attention is wholly on him now, gaze sharp as a hunter finding prey. It’s a little unnerving.

Occtis also isn’t terribly sure how to respond. He’s never exactly thought much of his appearance, but his entire life has indicated it’s as much of a disappointment as his lack of sorcery. “Yes, but I’m not—“

His awkward beginning is cut off by a calloused hand gripping his chin, forcing him to meet Kattigan’s gaze. The other’s thumb traces his cheekbone with surprising delicacy, as if committing the contours to memory. “Yeah. You are.” It’s blunt as Kattigan usually is, and there’s something mischievous and faintly wicked in the grin he flashes. “You ever need someone to remind you, you know where I am.”

- next chapter of In Your Shadow Bound (I PROMISE I’m still working on it!)

- the Archenade as a high protocol kink space (because Araman ABSOLUTELY needs a fancy sex dungeon and thank you @cr-404 for putting this idea in my brain!)