#seitowrites

Bailu never thought she would be on the Luofu again. There's a small part of her that wants to weep at the homecoming.

So this is the Luofu. The ship she has only seen in the echo of her dreams.

She's not... bitter. Okay, she's a little bitter. After all, she isn't Baiheng. She shouldn't be held accountable by the actions of her predecessor. Bailu has already spent a stint in the Shackling Prison, sentenced to exile and has never seen her homeship truly, until today. She bore all of this with far more grace than it deserves in her opinion.

She is Bailu, Nameless medic of the Astral Express.

She is Bailu, disgraced Vidyadhara, forever exiled from the Xianzhou Alliance. The reincarnation of the Volantem Lunam, the High Elder of the Vidyadhara Baiheng.

(Roleswap AU)

“So,” Rukia said, eyes narrowed and drumming her fingers. “You're a Living Reaper.”

Blooming Flowers For You

Kaveh has Hanahaki. He’s gone and fallen in love with his devastating hot frustrating, annoying junior. No problem. Alhaitham loves him back.

No, the problem is that Kaveh doesn’t believe him.

(Or, Alhaitham would burn down Irminsul if it meant he could erase the doubt from Kaveh’s eyes.)

It's a lovely peaceful morning and Alhaitham wakes up in dread.

The bed is cold and the spot next to him is empty. Despair wells up in Alhaitham’s heart. It lingers for a few brief seconds before Alhaitham swallows it whole and accepts.

Spring has come.

Before, spring used to be one of Alhaitham's favorite seasons. The temperatures are mild, not too hot, not too cold. The humidity is bearable, not sticky hot like it is in the summer. Spring brought forth new beginnings, a new year.

Now spring fills Alhaitham with grief.

Alhaitham takes a deep breath as he sits up in bed. He centers himself. A hope burns in his chest, unwanted and unrealistic but burns regardless.

He gets out of bed and quietly pads down the hallway. The sound of running water and hacking grow louder as he pushes open the door.

Kaveh is hunched over the sink. His chest heaves, deep raspy breaths as he struggles for air. The water swirls in the basin, pink instead of clear. The coppery scent of blood fills the room. And there on the counter edge, a single red petal of a mourning flower sits, blood pooling beneath it.

The tiny light of hope that Alhaitham always keeps burning in his heart every year extinguishes.

The water turns off and Kaveh’s chest heaves and heaves but slowly relaxes.

Kaveh turns and in the morning light, Alhaitham can see the unshed tears in his eyes. He can see the guilt, the shame, and worse, the fear.

Alhaitham hates seeing Kaveh like this.

Jing Yuan meets Dan Heng's new form.

And there is Dan Heng.

Or… Jing Yuan thinks that is Dan Heng. There are golden horns adorned on Dan Heng’s head, not teal ones. His long black hair is tied in a low ponytail tail, the teal tips look dull in comparison. His entire outfit is new, shades of his old one, but still vastly different.

“Dan Heng?” Jing Yuan calls out.

“Jing Yuan!” Dan Heng says.

In an instant, Jing Yuan finds his arms full with Dan Heng.

Jing Yuan feels the tension bleed out of him as Jing Yuan can feel Dan Heng’s solid weight against him. Is Dan Heng taller? He doesn’t quite tuck under Jing Yuan’s chin like he used to. What in Lan’s name happened in the last three weeks that brought all these changes?

“Aglaea Goldweaver,” Cyrene repeats slowly, like she can’t believe her ears. “You bought it from her store?”

Phainon glances at Anaxa.

Anaxa remains silent.

“Uh, well Anaxa said she made it,” Phainon says, scratching the back of his neck.

“She custom made you a sweater?” Cyrene asks.

Phainon gives her a bemused look. “Yes, that's what I said.”

He tilts his head. “I would offer to let you borrow it because I know Janusopolis gets cold but I think it might be too big for you.”

Cyrene’s jaw drops. “Phainon,” she says. “Aglaea Goldweaver personally made your sweater.”

Phainon warily looks at her. “You’re making it sound like a big deal for some reason.”

Cyrene buries her head in her hands. “Phainon! You could pay off all my tuition and my rent for four years with that one sweater if it’s an Aglaea Goldweaver original!”

“What?” Phainon says.

Anaxa wisely doesn’t say anything.

Phainon gives Anaxa a confused look. “Anaxa…” he says. “Is Aglaea like… famous?”

The latest gossip is this: Anaxagoras of the Grove of the Epiphany is getting married to the first person who can steal the key he has attached to his pet cat. Phainon has no idea what to make of the whole situation. -.-.- “I thought I told you to deal with this,” Aglaea says sharply. “But how?” Phainon asks. Surely she doesn’t mean he should capture the cat? Aglaea gives him a withering look. Phainon wisely doesn’t question her.

"Uh," Jing Yuan started, "Imbibitor Lunae is actually your title, right?" Dan Feng tilted his head. "Yes. As High Elder of the Vidyadhara, I am called Imbibitor Lunae." Jing Yuan looked at him earnestly. "Then…what is your name? Sorry, I don't think I caught it." Dan Feng was taken aback. When was the last time anyone had asked for his name? It had been at least a century. "Is that not proper to ask?" Jing Yuan asked, alarmed when Dan Feng hadn't immediately answered. "It's fine," Dan Feng said with a small smile. "My name is Dan Feng. It is a pleasure to meet you, Jing Yuan." "Dan Feng," Jing Yuan faithfully repeated. Ah.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re dying.

Augustine supposed that’s accurate enough. He could hear a myriad of Pokemon Battles happening around him. The distinct sound of Pikachu’s Thunderbolt, Charmeleon’s flamethrower, Lucario’s Aura Sphere, Garchomp’s Draco Meteor. He could hear everyone shouting off commands and the cries of the Pokemon yell as they unleash their power.

His vision was blurry though and he felt light headed, the world seeming to spin. He can tell the patch job that Cogita had performed was superficial at best. He hasn’t moved much but it feels like the wound is bleeding again.

“Alain,” Augustine reached out, searching. He had heard Alain’s anguish screams and then it was silent.

“Please, don’t move!” Laventon’s voice came from next to him.

Augustine wheezed. His body feels like it’s on fire and cold at the same time. He grasps Laventon’s sleeve. “Alain?” he asked, panicked.

“He’s fine,” Laventon reassured him. He presses down on the wound, trying to hold the blood inside of Sycamore.

Augustine couldn’t tell if Laventon was just saying that to keep him calm or if Alain truly was fine.

It seemed just like yesterday that Alain was a small child. He had been so quiet, so scared of everything. He clung to Augustine, refusing to be put down.

Augustine tried so hard to protect him.

He wasn’t fit to be a parent. He counted his blessing that child services let him keep Alain. That had been such a rough spot in life. His parents weren’t speaking to him. Technically he was disowned. He had moved from Sinnoh all the way to Kalos, running away.

The break up.

It was such a messy part of his life.