Mishal Chama (Chief of Anica-zaasu)

~~ Festivals are the Worst, Unless You're with a Drunk Karin ~~

This morning, I was tired. Tired of work, tired from a lack of sleep, tired from the same problem that still hasn't gotten resolved, no matter how hard I've tried to get it fixed.

My dad could probably have done better at solving it, but he'd been dead for the past ten years. That was my fault. It never felt like an 'oops, I majorly goofed' moment until after Mom died of grief three months after him. I still feel like I have his spirit hovering around, acting grumpy towards me because of what I'd done to him because–sorry–I was jealous of the attention that Nur was getting instead of me. That was a bad idea on my part, I admit. But I tried to make amends by having him be my strategist for a while. Then Chief Anai of Bochaan ended up killing him when he fell on her dagger.

Now, I'm the chief and the only member of the family left. I muddle by, but there are some things that I've had to spend more time than Dad ever did because of my one bad choice. I'm stuck like this until I die.

Not that I don't mind the perks that come with the job, but I halfway prefer it if I didn't have to deal with that one stupid problem that apparently can't be taken care of by any normal means. It gets extremely annoying when my advisors suggest, “Oh, Chieftain, perhaps you could give one of the Bochaanese ideas a try. It might fix the problem better.” I'm trying my best with what I know! Ugh. If I have to hear that one more time, I'm going to throw the next advisor who suggests it out the window. Unless it was one of the guys who can't fit through the windows. Then I might just take him to the balcony and toss him into the moat.

I've done that more times than I can count, actually…

Come to think of it, one of my advisors is actually overdue for a swim in the moat from the last time he made that comment to me. He was sick that day, and I was generous enough to not follow through with that threat. But every time I get generous, I always have to go back and do what I had initially threatened to do at a later time because they decide I'm always in a generous mood. No, I'm not always. I could have tossed him in that moat when he was sick, but then I wouldn't have had an advisor for a week or so.

Anyways, today is a big day for Anica-zaasu. It's festival time, and I have some things to do to prepare for it. That list of tasks seemed to grow larger and larger every year. It probably had something to do with my younger assassin's sly suggestions about new things to add to the festivities. Like these amazing things from Naaen called ‘fireworks’. Those actually made the people happier every festival. So I'm happy about that. But, as to the rest of what she's added to what used to be a fairly simple job has actually made it more difficult and hectic for me. I'm tempted to shove the ideas back into her lap, but she's rarely ever around, so it wouldn't really work. Despite the fact that it made the people happier, it also made me much more short-tempered and stressed than normal. That part is her fault.

“Chieftain Chama,” calls a servant. I grunt in annoyance and walk down the hall to where the servant is, as I can see, struggling to deal with my late brother's dog, Fen. “Please, Chieftain, it's trying to chase after something down the hall.”

I scowl at the servant and give a sharp whistle for Fen. “Fen. Sit.” Fen immediately stops trying to run and promptly sits on his rear, directly on the servant's foot. Seventy or so pounds on a servant's foot. Ouch. That had to hurt. “Fen, scoot off his foot and sit on the floor,” I grumble, rubbing my temples. Phoenix, on my shoulder, squawks in annoyance. “Hush, you. I know she's here. Fen, behave for the servant and don't make any trouble.” I stalk off towards the direction that Fen had been trying to get to. Karin must be there.

“Hello, chieftain,” comes her voice from just out of sight. Karin slips out of the shadows, now wearing a deep red dress that brushes the floor as she moves about. Her short hair is tied back in braids, and seems to have been styled nicely somewhere. Karin's eyes were accented by the dress and the golden embroidery on it, creating quite an enchanting look for the assassin, when compared to how she usually looks.

“Karin. How was your assignment?” I glance at her, eyeing the dress. She looked, surprisingly, quite beautiful. Until I get a glance of her work boots and that her coat peeks out from behind her back. “Okay, why do you have a dress on like you're ready for the festival, but you're wearing your work boots and have your coat behind your back?” I ask.

“I seem to have gotten a tagalong. Tried to lose him at the border, but he's persistent. Says he's a Necromancer from Bochaan, and I've seen his shadowmagic. And he's done some… I don't know how to describe it, but some sort of magic, probably necromancy, to make spirits move on. That idiot's naive, but useful for some things.” Karin frowns with a shudder. “Ugh, that boy's got some odd feeling to him.”

“Good or bad?” I press. "Also, you really had to bring along a Bochaanese?

“Neutral. He's just… odd. I'm not sure how to say it in any other way.” She shook her head. "You don't realize how many times I've tried to shake him off without killing him. I only need something for him to wear other than one of my tunics. It's embarrassing to see him wearing them. And I think the poor lad's nearsighted and colorblind.“

”Fine. He can wear one of my old tunics, depending on how tall he is.“ I sigh, both in annoyance and in sympathy for her. I had to chase Anai around Naa-sae, and she was one slippery young woman, so I knew, in my own way, just how irritating a Bochaanese could be. ”Also, you never answered my earlier question about how your assignment went.“

”Oh, he's a good two inches taller than me.“ Karin chews on her lip now. I suddenly get the urge to pull her close to me and make her stop that nervous habit for a moment. ”It went well, other than the fact that he decided to tag along. I got the job done, like you asked. But I had to go through Bochaan in order to find my mark. Apparently, he was doing trade with the chief there. Went in, got it done when he was done and on his way back home, and then ran into little mister tagalong. I feel just a teeny bit bad for the unfortunate guard I also had to put out of his misery. I know I'm not supposed to kill innocents, but he got in the way and wouldn't let me go without fighting. Plus, he startled me. Served him right to get a taste of electricity from me, and I didn't need word getting out about an electrokinetic young woman from Anica-zaasu getting out.“ She looks a little rattled as she speaks, and the urge to pull her close grew stronger.

I fight the urge to the best of my ability and nod. ”It's a good thing he didn't get any word out about you in the first place. That would not have been good,“ I finally say.

Karin's gaze suddenly grows steely at the sound of something at the window behind me, like someone tapping on the glass. ”He's at the window, Chieftain. Please move out of the way.“ She stalks past me and pulls open the windows, then yanks someone inside. He tumbles to my feet. He's a disheveled mess and looks to be about the same age as Karin. ”Pull yourself together,“ she growls, tugging him upright. ”You're meeting my chief.“

He blinks hard, then kneels down to pick up the broken parts of his glasses. ”Darn it. Broke again.“ Then he glances up at me. ”Oh, sorry! Sorry! Don't incinerate me! Please, Chieftain of Anica-zaasu!“ He bows multiple times, quite frantically.

I have to hold a hand up to my mouth and look away to keep from laughing out loud at his reaction. ”Incinerate you?“ I finally ask, once Karin kicks him to put him in check and make him stop bowing. ”I'm not- Why would I even-?“ I can't even manage to ask the question. ”That's a ridiculous thought, and I'm appalled that you would even contemplate it. I'm not that barbaric.“

”Even if you throw your advisors into the moat after a meeting when they irritate you?" asks a familiar voice. Great. An advisor. And not just any advisor. It had to be the one who disliked me the most.

Karin cracks a rare smile and tugs the Bochaan boy away and towards my bedchambers. “Let's go leave the chief to his work,” she instructs as he starts to follow her like a lamb led to the slaughter. Somehow, that made her look even more enchantingly beautiful and dangerous. No, what was I thinking? Chiefs and Assassins can't marry. And she's a halfbreed, for the gods' sake! But why was she so beautiful today to me?

“Chieftain Chama. Your duty calls,” says the advisor, breaking me from my thoughts. He gives me a little scowl, which I return with a hot glare, which he shrinks from.

“What all do I need to do?” I ask, already knowing what the list was before he asked. I just liked to annoy him by making him recite it out loud. “Starting from right now.”

He gives an exasperated sigh. I know it's going to be a long day by the length of his sigh. Great.

And so, the day started with a, quite literal, bang. That bang, you might ask, was most likely Karin. What had happened to her? I won't find out until we see each other sometime later.

I went from meeting to meeting, from stall to stall, and from one end of the city to the other. By the time evening came and the festivities started, I was ready to just go and find Karin and ask her to assassinate me. Which she would never do. But I was ready to ask her about if she would take me up on that offer, even if she would flat out refuse. Sadly, I was also tempted to incinerate at least the advisor's robes, if not his receding hair, just to make things more interesting. At least the marketplace was interesting, and I managed to snatch up some sweets to share with Karin during the evening's festivities, paying for them like any normal person would, despite the stall-keeper's insistence that I keep the money because it was most likely going to be going back into the government, at any rate. I refused and even forced them to keep the change by running off and after the advisor before he got upset with me for not staying up with him.

Karin's back is to me as I approached. She has a glass of wine in her hand, and is holding onto the Bochaanese boy from earlier in the day by the scruff. “Chieftain,” she says, as I come over to her, holding the sweets I had bought behind my back. She sounds a little… drunk? There was definitely a slur to her words. Peculiar.

“Are you alright?” I ask, forgetting about my day. Karin glances over her shoulders at me, and I realize exactly what may have happened to her when she was in my bedchambers. She was sporting a black eye, and a bandage over her temple. “What- What happened?” I ask, stunned.

“Zayne and necromancy. Don't ask.” She slurs with a grimace. “The wine's helping a tad.”

“I really… You shouldn't get drunk, you know.” I gently pluck the glass of wine out of her hand before she can drain it completely. She rolls her eyes at me and waves the hand I just freed, sparks suddenly flying from her fingertips. “Karin…” I warn, frowning and moving to stand in front of her. Her cheeks are flushed. Whether it's the wine or embarrassment that I'm seeing her in such a state, I'm not sure. But I knew there was more color to her cheeks. “In all the years I've known you, you have never gotten drunk. Why now? And especially in public?”

Zayne decides then and there to try speaking up. He had fixed his glasses earlier, apparently, because they were now perched on his nose quite precariously. “There is a reason as to why she is drunk, only… I don't know, either. But I got her to do the night light thing with my special crystal. She likes to make it blink.” He points to the hand that was gripping his collar. “It's in that hand.”

“Shut your mouth,” Karin grumbles, switching hands so she can hold out the crystal for me to see. I take the star-shaped crystal from her hand and examine it.

“Can you make it blink for me?” I ask, knowing full well, that, in any other situation, she would flat out refuse and run off. I place it back in her outstretched hand.

Karin bites her lip, but does what I want, making a quiet, “Pew-pew,” sound as she makes it blink, pointing it at me, then at the pale boy. I cannot help but smile at her reaction.

“What's with that sound?” I ask, struggling to keep myself from laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Karin flushes all the more as she forces the star-shaped crystal into Zayne's hand. He, too, is struggling to not laugh at how she had reacted to making it blink. I can't help but grin at her. She mutters something I can't hear

“Pew-pew!” Zayne blurts, starting to laugh. “Pew-pew-pew! Pew-pew! Pew! Pew-pew-pew-pew!” He points the crystal at Karin before she snatches it away from him.

“Quit it,” she snarls drunkenly. “Or I'm gonna pew-pew you in the heart so you won't be bothering me ever again, mister necromancer. Now stop laughing.”

I can't help but join Zayne in his laughter.

Karin releases Zayne and throws her hands up into the air. “Not you, too! I'm going to play with Fen.” She starts to stalk off, but I snatch her sleeve and pull her close. Perhaps a little too close. I can smell the sweet scent of honeyed wine on her breath, the scent of blood that's actually now staining the outside of the bandage on her brow, the smell of flowers and seawater in her hair, and the soft, clean scent of vanilla, lavender, and mint cutting through it all from her lotion. “Chieftain…” she slurs warningly.

Everything around us fades into the background for a long moment. All I can see is her bright teal eyes, shot through with veins of gold and bright red. I never realized just how red-gold her right eye was compared to her left until now. Her brow wrinkles, and she tries, albeit weakly, to push me away from her as her eyes close and she leans in towards me. Her soft golden-brown hair brushes against the skin of my collarbone as she presses her head to my chest. My heart is beating like it wants to burst out of my chest. I know she can hear it, and I wish it would stop pulsing so hard, but it won't. Then she nuzzles her head against my formal robes, making my face burn like the fires I can summon.

Suddenly, the fireworks begin. I barely even hear them over the sound of my heartbeat and the combined sound of Karin's and my breathing. All there is in the world is us. Nothing else exists here in this time and place. Nobody but us.

All too soon, the fireworks end, and Karin slumps against me. So much for my treats for us to share… But, wait. Her hands are sneaking around to find my own. “Sweets?” she mumbles into my chest. I slide my hand against hers and let her take one of the sweet cakes out of my hand. “Thanks,” she whispers, before leaning back and taking a bite.

“Here. Let's sit down,” I offer, slowly moving us onto a bench so we can sit together. The Bochaanese necromancer hovers nearby, apparently trying to stay near the nearby floating lantern that hangs above the bench. Karin leans her head against my side, and I wrap my arm around her narrow shoulders. Before I realize it, Zayne has my sweet, but I don't care. Karin falls asleep against me, and I take her sweet and finish it off for her.

She won't ever remember this festival day, I hope. But I know I will, for all eternity.

“it's festival time” COULD SAY WE'RE CUTTING IT FINE

I


LOVE


IT


CHIEFY CHAMA NEEDS MORE LOVE I LOVE HIM


But now, I really wanna hear how Chiefy a) fell for Karin and b) how they became so close as a chieftan/assassin!! ahhh that's got to be such a great storyy— and also, Zayne's reaction pfff. SO MUCH SUSPENSE!






PEW PEW

I couldn't help the pew pew moment. I will eventually get along to that… Eventually. Zayne's just there because pew pew and crystal glow. Next up, talking about Karin's little misadventure for that day. Zayne is also at the festival for the food. Maybe the fireworks show, but mostly the food. And anything he finds interesting.

Maybe Zayne's version of that day, too. Zayne is a bit different in AU than original, and I love him for that. And I really, really wanted to make chiefy chama's ‘this was going to be a bad day… but it all turns out great when I find out that Karin is drunk and won’t remember ever basically hugging me just to get a sweet and then falls asleep against me!'. That was actually not entirely planned out, either. But that ended up just making me smile so much.

Karin Maros (Anica-zaasu Assassin)
~~ Why I Avoid Necromancers and Spirits ~~

This morning, I was expecting little more than avoiding being around Zayne all day. Because, if I was around him one more time when he did a little bit of his Necromancy, I was prepared to turn him into a spirit. He deserved it, too. Every time I turned my back on him, he was messing around with either our shadows, or the surroundings’ shadows, or some spirit he claimed to have spotted nearby. If he said one more thing about an apparition, I was going to zap him, regardless of the promise I was forced into making with him when we crossed the borders into Anica-zaasu.

“Karin?” he asks, approaching dangerously close to me. I finger the star-shaped crystal he’d given me that evening. “Can I have back the crystal?”

“No.” I shove it into my pocket. “The only way you’re getting it back is if you can get your hands into this pocket and pull it out without touching anything else that may or may not be in it. Without me knowing or noticing, and without getting yourself hurt. Or, the easier way, which is to stay quiet and leave me be and not bother me about anything remotely related to necromancy.”

I can hear by the intake of breath that he was going to ask another question.

I sigh deeply, and that makes him hush. “Okay. Don’t follow me up to the window, please. I’m just going to go speak with my chief about you, and I’ll be right back.” I point to the nearest tree and the window that a strong branch bent near. That had been by design. I’d asked a Cae-rinsu with a strong power over plants to make the branch bend there so I could easily get in and out of the chieftain’s house. They did better than that and made it slightly easier for me to climb up by making the branches bend in a way that I could climb up quicker into the tree and could make my way across to the window without much more difficulty than keeping an eye on my footing.

The only problem today was that I was wearing a dress. It was the only thing I had with me that hadn’t yet been worn by Zayne and gotten messed up in some way by him. Mostly by mud. And I refused to put them on if he’d worn them and gotten them dirty.

I leap up to the lowest branch and haul myself up, then walk the branches to the window, the only point of entry that I can avoid the chief’s dog, Fen. Actually, it’s not technically his dog. It was his late brother’s dog, and he had a bird that looks like a phoenix from legends. Both now belong to the chief, and the bird goes everywhere. Fen likes me. Maybe a little too much, because he likes to search for and give me kisses every time I swing by Chief Chama’s house. I like Fen, though. Don’t get me wrong there. But there are times where I need to be able to do a quick in-and-out for reporting back to the chief and getting something to snack on later.

The moment I set foot inside, I slide into the shadows. A servant has Fen on his leash, and is having difficulty controlling the seventy-pound dog as he strains to find me. I hear the chief’s bedchamber door open, and the servant get his attention.

“Fen. Sit,” says the familiar voice of the chief. He sounded irritated. “Fen, scoot off his foot and sit on the floor,” he adds. I can’t help but inwardly smile. Fen, being so obedient to every word issued from the chief, sitting on the foot of a servant. I wouldn’t want his seventy pounds on my foot, though. Then Phoenix squawks. Well, now he knows I’m here for sure, I think to myself. So much for jumping out of the shadows at him. “Hush, you. I know she's here. Fen, behave for the servant and don't make any trouble.” The chief’s footsteps approach my hiding spot.

“Hello, chieftain,” I say, slipping out of the shadows and into the light from the window. I eye his robes. Formal. Meant for the festival. That meant it was time for the festival, and this time, I would be back, and with an outsider.

“Karin. How was your assignment?” He gives me a glance, possibly eyeing my dress and the fact that I’m hiding my coat. Yes, I know I should be looking pretty for the sake of wearing a dress, but my mind’s always set for work. Hence wearing my work boots. Plus, the dress has lots of hidden pockets for any of my concealed weapons. “Okay, why do you have a dress on like you're ready for the festival, but you're wearing your work boots and have your coat behind your back?” He asks.

“I seem to have gotten a tagalong. Tried to lose him at the border, but he's persistent. Says he's a Necromancer from Bochaan, and I've seen his shadowmagic. And he's done some… I don't know how to describe it, but some sort of magic, probably necromancy, to make spirits move on. That idiot's naive, but useful for some things.” I frown with a shudder. Just thinking about the necromancy bothers me. Especially after last night in the forest. That was… edgy. “Ugh, that boy's got some odd feeling to him.”

“Good or bad?” He presses. “Also, you really had to bring along a Bochaanese?

“Neutral. He's just… odd. I'm not sure how to say it in any other way.” I shook my head. Oh, he was neutral alright. Naively neutral, that is. He couldn’t cause any more harm than making my appearances all the more obvious when I don’t need them to be. ”You don't realize how many times I've tried to shake him off without killing him. I only need something for him to wear other than one of my tunics. It's embarrassing to see him wearing them. And I think the poor lad's nearsighted and colorblind.“

“Fine. He can wear one of my old tunics, depending on how tall he is.“ He sighed. Most likely, he was thinking about having to chase chieftain Anai about Naa-sae a year ago. He’d been in a very bad mood that year, losing his brother. I stayed by his side to make him feel at least a little better. “Also, you never answered my earlier question about how your assignment went.“

“Oh, he's a good two inches taller than me.“ I chew on my lip, not really wanting to admit to the truth. ”It went well, other than the fact that he decided to tag along. I got the job done, like you asked. But I had to go through Bochaan in order to find my mark. Apparently, he was doing trade with the chief there. Went in, got it done when he was done and on his way back home, and then ran into little mister tagalong. I feel just a teeny bit bad for the unfortunate guard I also had to put out of his misery. I know I'm not supposed to kill innocents, but he got in the way and wouldn't let me go without fighting. Plus, he startled me. Served him right to get a taste of electricity from me, and I didn't need word getting out about an electrokinetic young woman from Anica-zaasu getting out.” I sigh and give an involuntary shudder. That day had been quite rough on my nerves. I was shot from that encounter.

Chief Chama nods, seeming to be fighting some urge. Possibly to give me a hug, which I wouldn’t have protested about getting. “It's a good thing he didn't get any word out about you in the first place. That would not have been good,” He finally says.

I spot Zayne at the window. He taps on it, like he wants in. Idiot’s gonna get himself killed for that. I told him not to climb the tree after me. He's at the window, Chieftain. Please move out of the way.“ I stalk past the chief and pull open the windows, then yank Zayne inside. He tumbles to Chief Chama’s feet. “Pull yourself together,” I growl, tugging him upright. “You're meeting my chief.”

He blinks hard, then kneels down to pick up the broken parts of his glasses. ”Darn it. Broke again.“ Then he glances up at at the chief. I can’t help but laugh to myself at his reaction. ”Oh, sorry! Sorry! Don't incinerate me! Please, Chieftain of Anica-zaasu!“ He bows multiple times, quite frantically.

I see the chief’s hand head up towards his mouth as he looks away to keep from laughing out loud at Zayne’s reaction. “Incinerate you?” He finally asks, once I kick Zayne to put him in check and make him stop bowing like an idiot. “I'm not- Why would I even-?” He can't even manage to ask the question. That’s odd. “That's a ridiculous thought, and I'm appalled that you would even contemplate it. I'm not that barbaric.“

“Even if you throw your advisors into the moat after a meeting when they irritate you?" I saw the advisor coming before he even arrived. Chief Chama made a face, both bored and irritated.

I crack a rare smile and tug the Bochaan boy away and towards Chief Chama’s bedchambers. “Let's go leave the chief to his work,” I instruct as Zayne starts to follow along with me like a lost lamb.

I silently close the door behind us, shoving Zayne in when he refuses. He’s stiff, but gives way to a shove in the small of his back with my boot.

“What’s up with you?” I ask, taking up a sarcastic tone.

“This is a chieftain’s bedroom,” he breathes.

I roll my eyes. “It’s just like any other bedroom in the world.”

“There’s a-”

“Stop right there. I’m not taking anything about spirits today. No talking about it.”

“But it’s malevolent. Polt-”

I hold up a hand to his face, waving it in front of his eyes. “Focus on ignoring it. Instead, let’s find you something to wear to the festival.”

Zayne makes a face. “Is there food?”

“Probably.” Something on the other side of the bed groans, like Zayne possibly is moving it for some reason. “Stop fooling around. I think I found the right size of robes for you. You’re going to enjoy it, little mister tagalong.”

“I’m not fooling around. I’m right here, and I’m looking at what is making the table move.” Zayne protests as I turn around. Sure enough, he’s right there, just off to my left hand side. On the other side of the bed, though, I see Chief Chama’s bedside table flying towards my head. “Duck!” he yells, but I’m not sure I ever really heard him.

You know how there are those moments that seem to last forever and you can’t do anything but watch what happens happen to you through your own eyes? Well, now I understand how that feels. That polt-whatever that Zayne had been trying to warn me of? Well, it throws the bedside table. Directly at my head. All I can do is watch as it flies at me and barely move to duck before it smacks into my head.

Blinding pain erupts over my eye and against my temple as it hits, slamming me into the wall and knocking me out before I ever actually land.

The next thing I know, I’m laying on Chief Chama’s bed, Zayne trying to mop up the blood pouring from my temple. I groan and swat at his hand, taking up the washcloth he’s trying to use to staunch the bleeding.

I sit up and maneuver to the bathroom so I can take care of my injury by myself. My head throbs with every step. I definitely have a concussion. Industrial-strength whiskey, or rubbing alcohol as some call it, and some bandages are procured from my pockets. Blood stains the collar of my coat now. Great. “Zayne,” I call out the doorway, “did you get rid of that… thing?”

“I’m working on it,” he calls back, sounding a little strained.

I close the door behind me and slip out of my coat, letting it fall to the ground as I lean over the wash basin, pouring a little of the industrial-strength whiskey over the gash on my temple. Definitely losing a decent amount of blood, and a getting good amount of stinging from the whiskey as it cleans the wound. Gritting my teeth, I use a knife and cut off a decent wad of bandages and press it to my temple before cutting off another piece and laying it over top. I patch it down quickly with a few pieces of sticky bandages, then pick up my coat and search for my ice pack from Bochaan. It’s magic, and the spell would activate once shaken roughly, only good for a few hours.

When I walk back out of the bathroom, cleaned up enough that I was fine with laying down on Chief Chama’s bed, Zayne’s waiting patiently, looking a little worn and definitely more ruffled than before. His glasses are skewed on his nose, and he looks a lot like he got into a scuffle with that malevolent spirit.

“You like you lost a fight,” he comments, seeing me holding the cloth enchanted ice pack.

I give an emotionless laugh.

“So do you.” I lift the bedside table and put it back where it belongs with my free hand. “But I guess I look do a bit worse,” I admit, walking over to Chief Chama’s closet. “I’ll probably have another scar and a black eye. You, on the other hand, look really ruffled. Now, let’s get a robe for you to wear, without any more interruptions.”

We find the perfect robes for him, even if they were a little worn and slightly oversized on him. They at least hide, for the most part, the fact that he’s from Bochaan. Then I decided to rest and wait in my own suite in the house with Zayne reading another one of his books.

“So, why didn’t you go and get some help from a healer?” Zayne asks me as we head outside towards the festivities in the courtyard. I pull the collar of my up to hide myself a little, concealing the flush of excitement rising to my cheeks. Festival was always fun, and I am currently looking forwards to reuniting with Chief Chama. We’d been good friends since the loss of his brother, despite the age gap between us.

“If they found out I was in the chief’s room, do you think there would be a lot of gossip that would spread?” I countered. It was getting dark, and I knew Zayne wasn’t going to wander far from my side, even once we got into the courtyard and gardens, where the biggest part of the festivities would be held, open to everyone. “People would start asking questions, and then there would be more and worse trust issues with the chief, and he doesn’t need anything else ruining it for him. Understand?”

Zayne nods briefly, following along as I lead him to the stalls for some sweets to make him stop asking questions for at least a little while. I shove a piece of chocolate into his hands after I pay for it, then tug him along to the drinks by the collar, grabbing a glass of wine as I pass by and head on to a bench in a far corner of the gardens, where Chief Chama and I always met during the festivals.

I finish the first glass of wine by the time a servant passes by with a single full glass remaining on his tray.

Zayne eyes me suspiciously as I twirl it in my fingers, watching for Chief Chama. He walks up behind me, and I give him no notice. I know I’m drunk to the point that I’d be slurring, in the least.“Chieftain,” I say, as he approaches.

“Are you alright?” he asks. I glance over my shoulder at him. He immediately notices the black eye, despite the fact that it was dark outside “What- What happened?” he asks, stunned.

“Zayne and necromancy. Don't ask.” I slur with a grimace. “The wine's helping a tad.”

“I really… You shouldn't get drunk, you know.” He gently pluck the glass of wine out of my hand before I can drain it completely. It’s fine with me. I don’t need any more wine. I roll my eyes at him and wave the hand he just freed, sparks suddenly flying from my fingertips. “Karin…” He warns, frowning and moving to stand in front of me. My cheeks feel flushed. Whether it’s the wine or his concern, I’m not sure. My heart starts beating in a fast pitter-patter that I’ve never allowed to happen before now. “In all the years I've known you, you have never gotten drunk. Why now? And especially in public?”

Zayne decides then and there to try speaking up. He had fixed his glasses earlier, because they were now perched on his nose quite precariously. “There is a reason as to why she is drunk, only… I don't know, either. But I got her to do the night light thing with my special crystal. She likes to make it blink.” He points to the hand that was gripping his collar. “It's in that hand.”

“Shut your mouth,” I grumble, switching hands so I can hold out the crystal for Chief Chama to see. He takes the star-shaped crystal from my hand and examines it.

“Can you make it blink for me?” He asks, knowing full well, that, in any other situation, I would flat out refuse and run off. He places it back in my outstretched hand.

I bite my lip, but do what he wants, making a quiet, “Pew-pew,” sound as I makes it blink, pointing it at the chief, then at Zayne. Chief Chama cannot help but smile at me, and it makes my cheeks burn.

“What's with that sound?” He asks, struggling to keep himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

I flush all the more as I forces the star-shaped crystal into Zayne's hand. He, too, is struggling to not laugh at how I had reacted to making it blink. Chief Chama can't help but grin at me. I mutter, “It’s not that funny…” and stare at the ground.

“Pew-pew!” Zayne blurts, starting to laugh. “Pew-pew-pew! Pew-pew! Pew! Pew-pew-pew-pew!” He points the crystal at me before I snatch it away from him.

“Quit it,” I snarl drunkenly. “Or I'm gonna pew-pew you in the heart so you won't be bothering me ever again, mister necromancer. Now stop laughing.” It starts to bother me, how they’re both laughing at me.

Chief Chama apparently can't help but join Zayne in his laughter.

I release Zayne and throws my hands up into the air, giving in. “Not you, too! I'm going to play with Fen.” I start to stalk off, but Chief Chama snatches my sleeve and pulls me close. Perhaps a little too close. I can smell the scent of smoke and spices from the marketplace on his clothes, and the smell of sweets that he’s hiding behind his back. My stomach growls softly. I want the sweets he has, and I know one is for me. “Chieftain…” I slur warningly, knowing we shouldn’t be seen in such an embrace. We shouldn’t be closer than an arm’s length away, or people might start talking, but I can’t help but lean into him, looking up into his red-gold eyes.

Everything around us fades into the background for a long moment. All I can see are his red-gold eyes, glittering gently at me, like the stars in the sky overhead. I never realized before just how good he looks until now. Then my brow wrinkles, and I try, albeit weakly, to push him away from me as my eyes close and I leans in towards his chest. The only thought running through my head is ‘why?’. Why is he holding me so closely, and why does it feel so, so good leaning against him. My soft hair brushes against the skin of his collarbone as I presses my head to his chest. I can hear his strong heart beating quickly, matching the frantic pace of my own. Then I nuzzle my head against his soft, silky formal robes, feeling my face burn like the fires that Mishal can summon.

Suddenly, the fireworks begin. I barely even hear them over the sound of our heartbeats and the combined sound of our breathing. All there is in the world is us. Nothing else exists here in this time and place. Nobody but us.

All too soon, the fireworks end, and I slump against him, suddenly feeling the weight of my job and just how exhausted I’d been feeling. I want his sweets, first, so I start reaching towards his hands, sliding my hand down his arms to try finding the sweets he’s hiding still. “Sweets?” I mumble into his chest, a little embarrassed that I felt so weak and tired and so much like a child again. He slides his hand up against mine and opens it to let me take one of the sweet cakes out of his hand. “Thanks,” I whisper, before leaning back and taking a bite. Honey explodes over my taste buds like the fireworks that had gone on around me, nullifying the taste of honeyed wine that had settled on my tongue.

“Here. Let's sit down,” He offers, slowly moving us onto a bench so we can sit together. Zayne hovers nearby, but I hardly notice him there. I’m too exhausted to move, let alone throw the crystal in my hand at him. I lean my head against Mishal’s side, and I feel his powerful arm wrap gently around my shoulders. Before I realize it, I’m out like a light, asleep against my chieftain.

The last thought that runs through my head as my thoughts fade into the welcoming darkness of sleep is, “I wish this could last forever.”

Miurín Mistwalker (Merchant/Trader of Naaen)
~~ Why I’m an Honest Merchant ~~

My dad always made me sit in when he made good trade agreements. Hence why I’m such a good haggler for decent trades. I know when I’m getting short-charged, and I know better than to overcharge any potential customers at our stall. Honesty’s the best policy, like my dad always said.

No, I’ve never tried to short-charge anyone, and I know better than to do that, but there was a time in my life when I actually did do some dishonest things. Like stealing sweets and shish kebabs from Zigg’s stall when I was young, which he could never really prove in the first place.

Don’t tell him I said that if you’re reading this, or show him it, for that matter. He’ll kill me for saying it.

Fletcher’s sitting here, making sure I tell the story about how I finally went from a sneak-thief boy whose father was a rich and good merchant to an honest, yes, really honest, merchant myself. It’s a funny story, but I only have enough paper to give the shorthand version of it. Maybe someday I’ll tell someone the long version. If I ever get enough time.

Anyways, I’m wasting paper and time. Might as well move on.

The day that I changed… Well, to think, there was one day that really stands out in my memory. But, the thing is, it really was a series of events over the course of a week that really changed things. Whether it was for better or for worse, only Fletcher knows for sure. One more thing, I actually don’t remember much about that week. All I have is Fletcher’s memories to go off of, and, otherwise, it’s just the little bits and pieces of memory that I retained from that whole week-long series of events. Starting with the first thing that happened.

So, the first day. According to Fletcher, I had been goofing around in the crows’ nest of our ship- shared by our dads, but actually my own father’s- the night before, and I knew I had fallen asleep up there. But, the next thing I remembered was that there was this storm. We were at sea, without our families anywhere nearby. It was just me and Fletcher, and the storm. Something woke me up, but it wasn’t thunder and lightning, or Fletcher screaming at me to get down and take care of the sails so we didn’t end up getting them ripped off by the winds that he was desperately trying to wrangle. No, it wasn’t any of that. It was the fact that I felt the detachment from the shore where we’d been only hours before.

Being away from land is a subtle feeling for a Naaen whose powers revolve around it, and it’s something that awakens your senses when you’re far away, in open ocean. But I had a deep connection with any amount of soil or rock, or, in the case we were in, sand from the ocean floor far, far below us. And judging by how faint the feeling of that connection was, I knew we were far from any safe land, and definitely out of reach of nabbing any piece of land and making sure we could just wait out the storm in relative safety. That awoke my sense of direction immediately. We were way too far away from shore to navigate safely back home to the docks in Naaen.

“Miurín!” Fletcher cried out, finally catching my attention. I leapt from the ledge on the crows’ nest to the mast, and immediately started working the ropes and got the sails to go down with minimal struggle. Then I slid down the ropes to him, which were slick with rain and the seawater that crashed across in the storm from the growing waves. Fletcher was frantic, but, oddly enough, I felt pretty calm. All we needed to do was wait out the storm, not fighting it, but letting it drag us along until it died out and we could safely sail back.

“Where’s our families?” I called over the sound of the wind and waves.

“Naaen! The ropes were cut on us!”

While we were still onboard? Who would have done such a thing, unless…

A wave crashed over us, and I was dragged overboard. Fletcher cried out as soon as he was free from the wave and could gasp out at me. For a fourteen year-old, he was pretty hardy in a pinch, but he was panicky.

I could swim just fine, since I’d learned how to do it when we were much younger. The muscle memory came in handy as I watched Fletcher toss the floatation device out to me. And terribly miss. “Deep breaths!” I called out, treading steadily on the choppy waves. I could wait on him for at least an hour in these conditions, granting that it didn’t get any worse than it already was. “Calm down and stop panicking so you can aim. Let the wind guide it rather than you flinging it. Also, grab something! Big wave approaching!”

The wave I spotted crashed over the ship and tugged me deep into the water. Luckily, I had taken a deep breath before it pulled me under, and I didn’t fight it when it dragged me along. That would only make me more tired, and I needed my strength in order to get back onto the ship when Fletcher eventually managed to get the flotation device out to me.

I broke through the surface just as my lungs started to burn for air and quickly took in a breath, making sure to glance around for the ship before trying to swim willy-nilly in any direction. Luckily, I hadn’t been dragged much further away from the ship.

“Fletch! Over here!” I called, starting to tread as I spotted him searching for me.

Eventually, close to when my strength was going with the chill of the water and the amount of exertion from treading in rough water, Fletcher finally got the flotation device out to me. He pulled me in, and I climbed up the rope quickly, tumbling over the railing and onto the deck the moment I was back on the ship.

“If I had to watch you miss two more times,” I started, once I finally caught my breath. My teeth were chattering, and I shivered like there was no tomorrow. “Oh, g-gods. I’m just g-grateful you f-finally listened to my b-bit of advice th-there.”

“Next time, you’re not going up to mess with the sails.”

“Who else c-can, when you’re s-scared of heights and c-can’t make the winds l-listen to your e-every whim like your d-dad?” I countered, teeth chattering. “A-and, neither of our f-families are h-here to h-help us out. W-were you b-below d-decks?”

“Let’s get you down there before you freeze to death up here. I can take care of things up here until the storm-” Fletcher started to push me towards the door to the cabin of our ship. I planted my feet on the deck.

“Nope. I’m s-staying r-right here, F-Fletch. Y-you’re not making m-me go d-down here when I’m th-the only one of us wh-who can actually s-sail,” I protested. “P-plus, I’m o-older than you, and thus h-have m-more e-experience th-than you.”

“Does the ship need to be steered through this storm more than you need to get warmed up?” Fletcher countered, trying to push harder on my shoulders. I may have been a bit smaller than him, even at nineteen, but I could keep my feet planted better than he could.

“A-actually, it d-does.” I suddenly purposely slipped to the right and let him tumble forwards, catching him before he fell on the deck. “A-and I’m the only o-one here who c-can sense wh-where the shore is at. Or d-do y-you want to g-go to A-Alli-A-Aerou b-because y-you c-can’t sense where the larger p-piece of l-land is l-located?”

At hearing about Alli-Aerou coming from my mouth-which is something I would never, ever again, mention vocally, Fletcher let me head to the steering wheel and send us on the right course.

I had to concentrate on finding the larger piece of land leagues away from us, the continent of Naa-Sae. Then I struggled with the wheel to get us set on the right course.

Being as tired and as drained as I was, I still somehow retained just enough strength to send us in the right direction before practically falling asleep at the wheel to keep it sending us back home to Naaen.

Eventually, though, the storm died away, and Fletcher deemed that I should head to bed as the sun peeked out from the west, sending the sky into bright reds. Good weather ahead, I hoped as I trudged, shivering enough to make it nearly impossible to walk in a straight line, to the cabin and into the kitchen, where Fletcher had started a cozy fire, mainly for cooking while we were at sea, but also to warm me up.

The next couple of days, I don’t even remember. There were vague moments, like when Fletcher would come down to check on me, make something for us to eat, make sure I actually ate it before he returned above deck, but that was about it.

According to Fletcher, though, I was pretty delirious from a fever that had come on because of the storm and being stuck in the cold water for long enough, which forced him to take care of the sails and rigging, as well as me.

Another thing about him, he’s actually a pretty good mom. Okay, not a mom. Sheesh.

Well, anyways, he said I was babbling the whole time, whether it was when he was feeding me or I was asleep at the times that he ducked below to check on me, and it was always the same stupid-sounding rhyme. Apparently, what I was saying was this: “The shore’s days away, I cannot stay. This road’s too hard, Fletch, my bard. Take me home, I’ll be a good gnome. And I promise I won’t miss; to be a good merchant, I must take it. This incentive is mine, I don’t have much time…” over and over and over and over and, well, you get what I mean.

Fletcher still teases me about the ‘I’ll be a good gnome’ bit. In private, thankfully… But it’s still embarrassing to me. Calls me good little gnome when I do something good while we’re sailing alone.

By the time I finally woke up and was actually up for doing my typical work, we were probably a day’s sailing away. So I was definitely feeling the connection to the land. Fletcher was cooking up lunch for us.

I sat up very quickly and got to my feet. Fletcher couldn’t even move fast enough to stop me from scrambling back up the stairs and out onto the deck so that I could get a good deep breath of the sea air and see where exactly we were headed. It was further south than where we had initially come from, and, from what I saw in the crows’ nest with my telescope, it most likely was Cae-rinsu. In the southern edge of it, at least.

We’d have a long two-day sail ahead of us if we wanted to get back to Naaen’s borders. From there, we’d have another day or so to go in order to get to the nearest port. From there, it would be another week to Rimhawe, further up north, where we had initially come from. How we’d gotten so far away from home was a wonder, but, then again, storms at sea can really throw you just about anywhere. Except into the middle of dry land.

But, I’m getting away from the point. “Why I’m an Honest Merchant” is the title, not “Oh, Miurín is an Idiot”. Or something like that. So, to answer that question. I guess I really did make that promise somehow, but, regardless, I decided to hold to it.

No more sneaking sweets and shish kebabs from Zigg’s stall in Rimhawe.

No more swindling people.

No more being dishonest about our wares to potential customers.

I was going to go straight from then on, and I realized why it was that we’d been set sailing on our own. It was to teach me a lesson. What it was, I never really figured out exactly, but I’ve always assumed it was to trust Fletcher, and to be honest. Fletcher, on the other hand, learned his own lesson, and I pointed it out immediately after we got back to Rimhawe and to our families.

Follow my instructions on what to do in a pinch, because I do happen to actually know what I’m talking about. Most of the time, it’s just an instinctual plan for something, but there are times that I really do have a plan set up ahead of time for a situation, if it ever comes up, and they always get us out of the problem with little injury to selves.

Yes, I might still annoy Fletcher, whether it’s by playing land-legs or calling him Fletch all the time, or if I end up running off because I find something magical that catches my eye and I decide I want to get it, or if I drag him off on some obscure task that I decide to take up in order to make extra money for getting magical items, or if I try doing a little flirting to get some girl to purchase our wares, or overenthusiastically tell about some of our wares and it bothers him. But he’s always there for me when I need him. And I, hopefully as long as nothing ever actually happens to us, will always be there for him when he needs me. Sure, we might bicker and argue like a married couple, which I will not deny, or I might be the kid and he the responsible adult in situations, but we’re going to stay partners, no matter what life may throw in our faces.

Well, I’m just going to say this to you, whoever is reading this: Fletcher and I have our differences, but those differences are what makes us the best possible team for just about anything that’s thrown our way. We’ve been friends since we were very young children, and we will always be good partners until we grow old and have our own families who may someday take over the business after us.

I sincerely hope that we won’t ever be separated, whether in this life or what comes after. Maybe we’ll see each other still in Wobea, or the heavens, depending on whether we believe the Nomadic legends or the Naa-sae local legends. But, if it’s all the same to you, reader, I still never want to be separated from my best friend. Ever.

Well, I must bid you adieu. Until my pen meets paper again, dear reader, or perhaps if we someday meet again. Fletcher says time’s up, and we’ve gotta get running.


–Miurín Mistwalker,
Merchant, Sailor, Friend


PS: If Fletcher asks, tell him that I’m not running from the past I never let him in on. That old tattoo’s just burning, is all. Gotta run!

I'm not here to RP and I don't mean to intrude, but this isn't the right sub to post RPs into. This sub is meant for asking for ideas for projects, or sharing ideas. The ‘interests beyond scratch’ forums are probably more applicable.

Alrighty. Welp. These really are just ideas anyways. They're really not actual RPs in the first place. Just little side things that are ideas for future reference for me and possibilities for my own projects.

But I can move them ever so slowly into there. I'd rather they just stay here, though… Since they will eventually work for perhaps a little bit of a webcomic of scenes, or perhaps mini animation, or, for that matter, even certain events could become part of a meme. IDK. That's why there here, and I think that's where I'm going to let them stay. It helps with ideas, and makes them make more sense for me. I can always move them if I have to, but it'd be a little annoying trying to get them back into the way that I had them set up.

kitty_coolness_123 wrote:

Alrighty. Welp. These really are just ideas anyways. They're really not actual RPs in the first place. Just little side things that are ideas for future reference for me and possibilities for my own projects.

But I can move them ever so slowly into there. I'd rather they just stay here, though… Since they will eventually work for perhaps a little bit of a webcomic of scenes, or perhaps mini animation, or, for that matter, even certain events could become part of a meme. IDK. That's why there here, and I think that's where I'm going to let them stay. It helps with ideas, and makes them make more sense for me. I can always move them if I have to, but it'd be a little annoying trying to get them back into the way that I had them set up.

Ohh alright, that makes sense and fits. I misinterpreted the topic here, sorry about that! ^^;

It's fine.

welP that's why if you wanna tell just me stuff, you don't post it at the top of my profile for all my comment stalkers to see X'D

/here's a dump of brutal honesty/
Before Miurín's explanation, I had the image that, because Miurín cheated someone, they cut the ropes as revenge, and after learning his lesson he made the conscious decision not to cheat people.
I guess the thing about the rhyme is pretty funny, too, though for some reason now I feel a bit… unsatisfied by it? idk how to describe it haha. I guess was expecting a bit more transformation from sneaky boy Miurín to honest Miurín than a fever and a “well, I'm honest now” after waking up, since the story was titled ‘'Why I’m an honest merchant".
that being said, young Fletcher is best mother.

It's a rough story idea…
And yeah, I think that idea works. I really went on a whim with the idea, which is what created it. It was a trial idea, and I'm thinking of changing it because it's not quite right for me, either.

And Fletcher is definitely a good mom. Still is, always will be, and was in the past, even with being the younger of the pair.

decided to copy paste this over, though it's not exactly a side story
2/17/19 - added the title

“First”

It was early in the morning- the sun hadn’t even risen. Dillon had been tired to the point of almost fainting last night, so Daegan doubted he’d be awake anytime soon.

He, himself, had been unable to sleep, so he’d taken a quick hop and climb out of the second-story window- nothing too special for an assassin like him- and was taking a walk in the garden, avoiding all the people he could. He’d almost run into a garden worker, who’d given him a strange look even after he’d explained who he was traveling with.

Daegan eventually found himself at the edge of the woods. He looked around, his grey-purple eyes flitting here and there- no one in sight. He found a shady tree and sat under it as the day’s first light turned the sky a cerulean blue.

“Boo!” exclaimed someone above him. Daegan nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart skipping several beats. He looked up to see Vinoc perched in a tree above him, cackling mischievously. “Gotcha,” grinned Vinoc cheekily at Daegan’s irritated face, swinging down from the branch and landing in a catlike poise next to Daegan.

“What’re you doing out here?” asked Vinoc, tilting his head. “I could ask you the same thing,” pointed out Daegan. “Fine, keep your secrets,” shrugged Vinoc haughtily, leaning on the tree next to Daegan.

With his plan of silent contemplation ruined, Daegan suddenly had an open early morning schedule. He thought, again, of the events of the night before- how they’d waltzed, and Dillon had leaned /suspiciously/ close to Daegan (though Daegan suspected Dillon was just close to falling asleep standing up), and of how his heart hadn’t stopped racing the entire time.

“…You’re the worst person to ask this,” sighed Daegan, abandoning his question before he could even say it. “Aw, c’mon, I’ve surprised you before!! Don’t leave me in suspense,” complained Vinoc. Daegan sighed- he really needed to become more assertive. “Okay, fine. Some… things happened yesterday, and I’m not sure what they mean,” said Daegan. He felt himself curl up tighter.

Something between disappointment and dread crossed Vinoc’s face- Daegan had seen this expression before, when he'd approached Vinoc about the true nature of his amnesia spell. “What things?” asked Vinoc, in false cheerful curiosity.

“I don’t really know how to describe it- the three of us talked a bit, shared a pie, then Peri headed off to the servant’s quarters and Dillon and I headed upstairs to his quarters,” said Daegan. “He was /super/ tired- though he helped me find the bed in the reading room, and then he almost fell over he was so tired! So I started helping him to his bed and the next minute I know we were waltzing. And singing.”

Vinoc almost spat out the obvious secret wine he was drinking from his canteen, interrupting Daegan. “Just—randomly. Out of nowhere?”

“Well, Dillon said that it reminded him of waltzing first,” stammered Daegan. He decided not to mention which song they were singing- he doubted Vinoc wanted to be reminded of his least favorite song. Or how Dillon had leaned a bit /too/ close several times, which was likely because Dillon was just tired and falling asleep standing.

Vinoc frowned thoughtfully, his brow furrowing. “Did he kiss you?” he asked objectively.

Daegan felt heat start building up in his face and ears. “What—no way—why would—of course not–” he stuttered, a bit shocked. Even he wasn’t so blind to social cues- he'd have known what it meant if Dillon kissed him.

“Oh, goody!” Vinoc brightened up considerably, grinning. “Then I get to be the first person to do this!” Before Daegan could compute what Vinoc’s words meant, he was pulled by the collar and he was rushing towards Vinoc, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe because his face was pressed up to Vinoc’s. All he could taste was wine. His eyes were squeezed shut, out of instinct, but he could still feel how close they were.

After a moment, Daegan was released. He still couldn’t process what happened. His hands had clamped over his mouth before he told them to. He barely heard Vinoc as he giggled. “You seriously look like a tomato,” laughed Vinoc.

Daegan looked up, to maybe ask Vinoc “What the (hecc)?” or question why he did what he did, or just ask what just happened, but he looked up to see empty air. Vinoc had vanished.

Daegan got up, shakily, hands still clamped tightly over your mouth. He could still feel burning in his ears where he was blushing. “Vinoc, where did you–” he started, then stopped. He’d noticed a branch shaking.
Daegan started to dash as fast as he could. He heard running- he ran faster. He was prepared to give Vinoc a word of his mind. He spotted Vinoc’s platinum hair clear as day in the dark woods.

Daegan caught Vinoc by the neck of his shirt. “You can’t just do that, and lea-” Daegan stopped mid-sentence. Vinoc, the shameless murderer, the person who’d laughed at death in the face, the psychopathic and mischievous assassin, had tears in his eyes.

“Are you… what? What happened, just now? Are you okay?” Daegan didn’t know what he wanted to ask. He’d had enough questions before. This just made it worse.

Vinoc attempted a laugh, which was cut by sniffles. “It was inevitable, that you’d find someone else. Someone better,” he said, sounding defeated. “And he’s a hundred times better for you then I’ll ever be- though at least I know you swing that way, now, so maybe in some other dimension, I’ll have a chance.” Vinoc had a grin on his face, which was bordered by gemlike tears.

“Vinoc, I—what?” Was Vinoc… confessing?

“Clueless as ever, eh? You know how to find me if you need me,” grinned Vinoc, wiping a tear from his eye. He shook Daegan’s hand off his collar and, before Daegan could stop him, recited the transportation spell and disappeared.

Daegan was left alone in the woods as an empty breeze blew by. He was twice as confused than before- though now, somehow, he felt guilty, too. He could taste wine, still- maybe he’d rinse his mouth later.


Or maybe he wouldn’t.

The Chef
“A pie…?” asked the chef, raising an eyebrow. The chef's guard was up- he'd seen Daegan around the houseboat before, and he was sure Daegan was an assassin, so he feared the worst.

“Y-yeah. Uh, an apple pie,” nodded Daegan, nervously. He glanced at the floor, momentarily. Please, let this work…

The chef analyzed Daegan. Contrary to everything he thought he knew about assassins, Daegan looked incredibly nervous and even harmless. The chef, with his hefty build, made Daegan look like a little elf.
“Hmm. What for?” interrogated the chef.
“Well, I'm, uh… out of practice baking, and that's pretty much it…” lied Daegan in a mumble, shrinking further into his coat. And to think he'd thought it'd fit him someday.
The chef stroked his stubble, eyeing Daegan - wow, he was thin. Had Daegan even eaten in the past week? Poor kid, thought the chef.
“Fine. Don't… poison it, or anything,” said the chef, stepping out of the doorway and allowing Daegan to enter. “Everything for baking's in the drawer, all the food's in the pantry except for the apples,” he added before Daegan could finish protesting that he wasn't planning on poisoning the pie.

Daegan nodded, and stepped inside. The kitchen smelled of fresh flour and spices- nothing like the kitchen back on the farm, but still a wonderful smell. Daegan glanced at the chef and quickly looked away- the chef wasn't moving.

After a few moments of nervously pacing about the kitchen, Daegan realized the chef wasn't planning on leaving. He didn't blame the chef for it, though it would certainly be harder to make a decent pie with the chef breathing down his neck. He entered the dim, dusty pantry in the back of the kitchen, resisting the urge to cough as he waved away the flour dust. He heaved the sack of flour over to the kitchen, then re-entered the pantry to fetch butter and eggs. He could feel the chef's eyes burning into him– this was going to be a long baking session.

꧁꧂

Daegan beat the egg whites in a bowl. He tried to ignore the chef peering at him, but it was hard- the skin on the back of his neck crawled with nerves. He hated the feeling of being stared at.
Daegan was about to stop beating the egg whites, when suddenly, the chef held up his hand. “They're not done - beat them a bit longer,” he advised. Daegan glanced at the chef in surprise, then at his bowl. Sure enough, he'd relied too much on instinct from the whisk and bowl he'd had at home to observe whether the whites were foamy or not. “My bad– sorry– right– thank you,” stammered Daegan, as he continued whisking, shrinking a bit and questioning his baking abilities.

The chef gave a hearty chuckle. “Ha– man's supposed to be out killing people, yet he's too nervous to even beat his eggs,” he observed. Daegan attempted a polite laugh, but really, the comment made him feel significantly worse so it came out as an uncomfortable “Hahaha… yeah…”

“Sorry, sorry– having a little humor at your expense,” laughed the chef in apology, realizing how his comment make have come across to Daegan. “Name's Gereann, you?” he asked. “U-uh, Daegan,” said Daegan quickly, not expecting the question. Gereann laughed. “Right then, ‘uhh, Daegan,’ aside from baking and walking around with the.. uh, murder situation, what do you do?” he asked. He was sure this fellow would keep apologizing for stabbing his opponent during a fight.
“…not much,” mumbled Daegan. “read books, I guess?” Gereann folded his arms, raising his eyebrow. “Are you asking me or telling me?” he questioned. “T-telling!” affirned Daegan. “Then say it with gusto!! Say– say ”Well, Gereann, I like to read books.“”

Daegan shook the egg off his whisk, and was waiting until he realized that Gereann was actually asking him to say it. “Oh– uh– ”Well, Gerean… I like to read books…“” he said. Daegan looked like he wanted to run away.
Gerean frowned thoughtfully. “Eh, it's an improvement, I'll give you that,” he conceded. “Thanks,” muttered Daegan, brushing the egg white onto the crust. The silence continued on for a few minutes.

“Want help?” asked Gereann, suddenly. “What? Uh, I mean– well, you don't have to, uh..” Daegan stammered, looking up from tossing the apples. Gerean laughed. “Got nothing better to do,” he explained. “Have at it– what should I do?”
Daegan looked lost. “Uh… maybe….roll out the top crust…?” Gereann leaned against the wall. “And what if I don't want to, Mr. Head Chef?” he said, rebelliously. Daegan's brow furrowed in confusion, until he understood. “Oh!! I mean– roll out the top crust, please!!” he said, with a touch more definition.
Gerean chuckled. “Better, I guess- we'll work on it,” he sighed, stepping over to the counter and grabbing a fistful of dough. He obtained a rolling pin from the drawer without looking, and began rolling deftly.
Daegan spent a moment observing Gerean's rolling- he was really good at it, as the crust was almost circular. Gereann glanced up at Daegan. “Don't worry, I'm not gonna destroy your crust,” he laughed. Daegan paled. “No– I didn't– you're– I was just admiring your rolling skills,” he admitted. Gereann laughed. “You don't become royal chef because of nothing, you know,” he winked. “Though, really, nepotism must have played a part- my Pa was also head chef.”
“Well, for what it's worth, you – you at least deserve head.. head dough roller!!” said Daegan, hoping he sounding encouraging. Gereann laughed. “Yeah, yeah– it's only good because the dough you made is good,” he complimented in return. “Th-thanks,” stammered Daegan, trying not to say all the self-deprecating comments floating around in his head. He couldn't help but turn a little red at the comment.
꧁꧂

The two kept working, chatting about interests. Apparently, Gereann liked reading, too- reading nonfiction. He'd read about odd facts and loved learning about new places. “Don't tell the other chefs, or I'll lose my authority,” he'd winked. Daegan had shared his love for poetry and legends. The two found a common love in the work of Vibrade, and Gereann was surprised to know how long Daegan had known the legendary Dock Painter. “She's good,” he'd said, with a low whistle. “Flawless,” Daegan had agreed.

Finally, the pie was complete- now, all that was left was baking it. “Oven's this way,” nodded Gereann, leading Daegan, who was carefully balancing the pie. Gereann opened the oven, and Daegan carefully placed the pie in the center of the rack. “Now… we wait. How long, Mr. Head Chef?” asked Gereann. Daegan thought. “Twenty minutes, then remove that metal sheet, then about twenty more minutes,” he said. “Well- anything to drink?” offered Gereann. Daegan shook his head- he felt bad enough, keeping Gereann busy for this long. Gereann shrugged. “Your loss.” He pulled over two short stools and sat on one. After a moment, Daegan sat on the other.

“…Assassin, eh?” asked Gereann. Daegan sighed- he'd been expecting it, yes, but he was hoping Gereann wouldn't bring it back up. He nodded sadly. “Of all careers, why that one? You'd make a great baker, you know.” Daegan looked at the floor. “..You said it yourself. You– you haven't left the city in years… it wouldn't work out,” he said, thinking of Vinoc terrorizing his customers and never being able to continue his search. The real reasons burned in his head, dying to be heard.

“Well, is the city so bad?” chuckled Gereann. “No, it's– I'm– looking for someone, and I've got to be able to travel around,” he explained. “So? Be a merchant!” “I c-can't even talk to you without stammering– every day'd be torture,” shuddered Daegan, as he tried to avoid telling Gereann the truth- the Naaen government, having no assassins, jumped on the chance of using Daegan's half-Naaen origins as an excuse to hire him, a skilled fighter, as an assassin. Since then, they'd been doing everything they could to keep him as assassin, from threatening him to excessively docking his pay if he didn't do his job properly. As good-natured as Gereann seemed, he was tied to the government, after all- it wouldn't do Daegan any good to explain it to Gereann.

The two ended up in silence for a while. Daegan tapped the rhythm of a sonata with his finger, observing the pie. Gereann looked like he was far away. He sighed, suddenly. “Sorry I keep bringing up. I just don't… just don't really understand what makes a person become an assassin,” he explained. Daegan looked at the floor. “…I didn't come here and ask for it– an officer half-forced, half-asked me to,” mumbled Daegan, trying not to reveal too much. Gereann blinked in surprise. “Chances are they just asked normally, and you couldn't bring yourself to refuse,” he joked- he felt a bit bad, due to Daegan's sad expression. Maybe he really shouldn't have brought it up. “Probably,” agreed Daegan half-heartedly. “Time's up,” he added, eager to change the subject. “Oh– oh, right, Mr. Head Chef!” laughed Gereann, opening the oven.

Daegan gingerly extracted the pie, peeling away the sheet of metal keeping it together. He then replaced it. “Now we wait- again,” declared Gereann, closing the oven. “Indeed,” nodded Daegan.
"I've seen you around here, but you never actually talk to anyone… so who do you talk to?“ asked Gereann, accepting that Daegan wasn't the type to start conversations. Daegan thought of Vinoc. ”Uh, not really anyone,“ he said– that'd be easier to explain than delving into the wars.
”Hmm, that's unfortunate - you're quite a good conversationalist, really,“ chuckled Gereann. Daegan looked at Gereann, confused– was Gereann being sarcastic, or…?

”No, no, don't get me wrong – you've got to work on the nervousness thing, for sure, but you're polite, you've got lots to talk about, and you're great at listening,“ described Gereann. ”Th-thanks,“ Daegan stammered, a bit flattered. ”No problem,“ laughed Gereann.

The two talked about Vibrade's writing a bit longer before time came to remove the pie from the oven. ”Easy does it…“ muttered Gereann as Daegan slowly lifted the pie out of the oven. ”Alright, here's my payment– a slice of this masterpiece,“ grinned Gereann hungrily. ”Of course– you can keep it, really,“ nodded Daegan. ”It's technically yours, since the ingredients– they were yours..“ Daegan's nerves were returning. ”Okay, fine, I'll keep it- you're not going to be able to carry it in those missions of yours, anyways,“ he laughed. ”But you've got to have a slice before you leave, or your hard work'll go to waste!“ Daegan sighed. ”Okay, I'll– I'll try a small slice,“ he submitted.

Daegan carefully cut two slices, and took the smaller of the pair. Gereann supplied him with some fancy utensils – ”A good pie deserves good plates,“ he winked. Daegan sat down and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. ”Hmm. Not quite…“ he muttered, after swallowing. ”maybe… more cinnamon… no.. different sugar?“ he murmured to himself. Gereann eyed Daegan for a minute, then hesitantly took a bite of the pie. He dropped his fork. ”Where did you learn to bake like this?!!“ he cried, stunned. Daegan looked nervous. ”I– uh– from my aunt?? I guess?? Uh– why?“ he asked, as if he'd done something wrong. ”This is amazing!!“ gasped Gereann. Daegan blushed. ”I mean– the crust flakes perfectly, the filling is delicious…“ continued Gereann. ”Thanks,“ whispered Daegan, a little overwhelmed. ”O-only because you helped…“

”No, don't sell yourself short- this is awesome. With a capital A,“ grinned Gereann.

The two enjoyed their slices, with Gereann interrogating Daegan about his techniques and Daegan refusing to reveal the delicate balance of spices in his emergency cinnamon container. ”Oh, fine, fine, I get it- secret family recipe,“ pouted Gereann.

Time came that Gereann had to make the Chieftan's supper and Daegan had to head off (well, really, he didn't, but he didn't want to stay.) ”Hey, Assa- Daegan,“ called Gereann, as Daegan left. ”Uh– what do you need?“ asked Daegan, turning.

Gereann grinned. ”Bake another pie one day. You're still timid as a kitten- we've got a lot to cover," he chuckled.

Daegan nodded, a small smile forming on his face. He waved with the hand not holding a slice of pie- maybe he'd return, if he had the chance.


–

this story made me realized how much I like names that end in ‘an’ or ‘ann’….

The Chef is such an endearing story! It's so interesting! Now, Daegan has made friends with the head chef on the chief's ship.

aww thanks <3 I got really sad by Daeg's backstory, so maybe Gearann and the painter can cheer it up a little.

ideally, this would have happened a long while back, haah- Sepaira'd still be fairly little, etc.

Cool!

kitty_coolness_123 wrote:

I couldn't help the pew pew moment. I will eventually get along to that… Eventually. Zayne's just there because pew pew and crystal glow. Next up, talking about Karin's little misadventure for that day. Zayne is also at the festival for the food. Maybe the fireworks show, but mostly the food. And anything he finds interesting.

Maybe Zayne's version of that day, too. Zayne is a bit different in AU than original, and I love him for that. And I really, really wanted to make chiefy chama's ‘this was going to be a bad day… but it all turns out great when I find out that Karin is drunk and won’t remember ever basically hugging me just to get a sweet and then falls asleep against me!'. That was actually not entirely planned out, either. But that ended up just making me smile so much.

The ending is absolutely adorable, I agree!! Both Zayne and Karin are really different, to the point where I think you should name them something other than Zayne and Karin ha.


(now that I think about it, Blood Tells No Lies is the first rp I've made characters exclusively for? Sure Daegs and Vin are a little similar to some people I made in Tokelkingdom, but they're entirely their own. And I've never made anything like serif or lir or eachna or sepaira before!! it goes to show how amazing this rp really is )

(sorry I didn't see this rip)

ahhh I just finished reading Karin's perspective;;;;

I LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT. It's so sweeeeeet and it feels a lot more natural than Chief's for some reason

PEW PEW

you made me genuinely feel sympathy pain in my head— I'm really sensitive to sympathy pain, I guess (even the mention of injuries makes me suuuper uncomfortable) but wOW IF YOU CAN DESCRIBE IT SO VIVIDLY THAT I FEEL IT THEN D A N G THAT'S SOME DESCRIPTIVE WRITING

I like doing descriptive writing. Plus, it helps that I read a lot of fantasy fictions that involve that sort of thing. Love, on the other hand, I have never personally experienced, only read. I can't do guy thoughts very well, but I've been working on doing stories from their perspectives to make things a bit different. Helps to live around boys.

(it's fine.)

Although, I still connect their normal selves to the AU version idea strictly because there's a connection between Iridescent and BTNL for them. That being their personalities. The thought process that I went through to create the AU versions is all based on ‘what if’s. It's like: What if Karin had been trained as an assassin, since her power could be used to kill? What if Zayne's parents had helped him to develop his powers rather than lock him in that closet for a lot of his life? What if both had been raised differently? What if they had been born into the world of Blood Tells No Lies RP and storyline? And I went from there to develop them.
Now, the Iridescent versions of them? That's something I want to adjust in order to make it make more sense to connect them. There are adjustments that I'm thinking of making to the Iridescent versions in order to connect them better, and to make things work much better and more along the same lines of thought. The ideas for the original versions of them have changed over time, and I've done some more dialogue ideas for them with the School of Light and Dark story of mine.

Which means that they've changed more than I originally did them for the RP. But it's a good change, and I like how the idea of them is evolving to make them more relatable and real to me and to anyone who reads them. It's the realism that I want in a character, and it's realism that authors want to have for their characters. It makes them more relatable and easier to figure out, if you can sympathize with them in any instance. Like, getting hurt, or falling in love. I have a lot of authors to thank for that inspiration, because it's not all mine. Sure, the characters might be mine, but not all of the scenes are precisely mine because they gave that inspiration because I read their works.

I dunno, I never thought of guy's thoughts or girl's thoughts as different?? I just based it on personality really.


I'm not sure what my attitude to realism in characters is- I like to explore “what would someone be like if they experienced __?” normally I aspire to give a character realistic flaws and insecurities. Either way, though, my chars are typically either extremes or neutral in every respect.

Personally, I'd say that you don't have to force the two to be like each other. Forgive the examples I chose, but take Error! Sans versus normal UT Sans. Error is very, very different. Or UF! Sans. It can be argued that, in those AUs, character's personalities are meant to be different, but the point remains - people are formed through their circumstances. Blood Tells No Lies Zayne/Karin and Iridescent Zayne/Karin, at the moment, don't feel like the same people to me- and that's a good thing, I guess. But that's just my humble opinion.

Ig I'll use this rp's chars to show what I mean, if you're interested??? haha chances are you're not but just in case–
Daegan-
- extreme introversion
- extreme on the ‘worrying’ factor
- extreme hair haha
- xtreme backstory ha (high on the trauma factor imo)
- extreme economic position
- neutral hobbies
he don't have many neutral traits ha
- neutral tastes, with the exception of apples
- extreme self-deprecation
- avg care for others, maybe a bit decreased since he coughs kills people for a living

Vinoc-
- extreme indifference to the value of other people
- extreme alcoholism
- extreme devotion to making Daegan as uncomfortable as possible and at the same time killing anyone else who dares make his tomato feel bad
- extreme.. idk this guy is just an extreme in general. he does everything in the most extra way possible- literally pretending to be other people for like a month so he can infiltrate this one dinner party he wasn't even sure he was going to infiltrate…