Mjolnir

Camp Athens - Closed

^{#86a8ad ....|..... outfit .....|..... location}

River didn’t sit in the stands or lay back down for a quick nap like Andy did. He paced around her conjured obstacle course at least three more times making sure everything looked right. Back in Hawaii he had to make do with whatever he had at his disposal, trees, boulders, docks… He made it work but that left him with little to no knowledge when it came to an actual military training course. While he hated to admit it, he was thankful he sought out Andy’s help. Her military experience was a lucky coincidence that made the whole process of setting up a lot more seamless. It gave him time to pore over the camp roster he found in the office. It would take him more than an hour to put every name to each face, but it definitely helped.

It had only been a couple minutes after he got comfortable leaning against one of the supports in the course when an unfamiliar demigod approached him, tall, blond and lanky. He held the clipboard in his left hand and was in the middle of flipping a page with his right when the guy’s voice cut through his thoughts. "Morning, I just wanted to quickly introduce myself. My name is Heath. I look forward to learning from you."

River’s eyes widened just a fraction. He expected more resentment or general avoidance, not someone coming at him head-on like that. Although after the introduction, he couldn’t help but wonder if Heath was one of those brown noser types. He had a fairly strong assumption that most of them weren’t looking forward to training, even less so at the prospect of a new leader. He had accepted that burden whether he liked it or not, but someone actually interested in learning from him was something else entirely. He didn’t know if he should be flattered, anxious, or annoyed.

"Morning," he replied with a curt nod of his head. River chuckled wryly, the smile seeming a little forced and not quite reaching his eyes. "Give it time. You’ll change your mind." If his teaching ethic had even a fraction of what his father’s did, then it was a safe assumption that most of the campers would resent him by the end of the week. He sucked in a sharp and awkward breath knowing that being a callous prick like his dad wasn’t going to help matters either. With the best smile he could muster he attempted to be more friendly. "...Thanks."

He hardly had the chance to catch his train of thought a second time before a loud voice cut through the comfortable peace of the arena like a foghorn. "Morning! Happy New Year!"

River actually winced slightly from the sheer volume and tried his best not to let his annoyance show across his face. He replied with a simple nod. "If everyone at camp wasn’t awake before…"

He did his best to not seem entirely disinterested in small talk, although River could think of about a million other things he’d rather do than play ‘get to know the demigod’ as he mentally prepared to run training and the likelihood of everyone hating him by the end of it. In the middle of flipping over a page, a strange tingle tugged at the back of his neck like a phantom thread beckoning him to turn his head. He looked up, gaze scanning the gathering crowd until it snapped on her.

His body tensed forgetting to breathe or blink or do any other basic functions he’d died without after a minute or two. River left her a note, coffee, medicine… but the note, that was the important part. He didn’t know how she’d react, mad, hurt, dejected. His mind cycled through every horrible scenario without ever considering it might not actually be that bad. He was at war with himself, body wanting to split in two so one piece could head right for her, while the other wanted to run without looking back.

Anissa’s gaze met his and he froze. He was never good at reading people, so while he could see her face… He didn’t have a fucking clue what any of it meant, just that she was looking and he was looking… And was this getting weird? Should he look away? Maybe he should wait until she looks away first?

Then… she waved.

All the tension slipped from River’s shoulders as he let out the breath he had been holding in. He focused on trying not to blush, but redness still tinted the tips of his ears as a faint lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His right hand released its hold on the piece of paper, raising just a fraction to return her gesture with a small wave of his own. There was a second where she returned his smile, he might have even noticed her cheeks growing pink as well before she disappeared behind sunglasses and searched for a seat.

Well… He was in a significantly better mood, more anxious with a million more questions… but better. Now he just needed to focus on—training. Right. There was training.

River was significantly more distracted trying very hard to focus on his clipboard and only his clipboard until it was time. When the clock hit 8:30 he could have started right then and there—it’s what his father would have done—but he decided to be moderately kind (he was in a better mood after all) and give any stragglers one more minute to find their way to the arena and take a seat.

With a begrudging sigh and a significant rise in his nerves, River pushed off the support he was leaning on and walked out into the center of the arena. He rapped his fingers along the back of the clipboard, steeling his nerves before he finally spoke up. "Good morning everyone. If it wasn't already obvious, I am River, your new leader… And son of Poseidon, if that matters." He paused for laughing or sarcastic comments in regards to his name, not having the patience to talk over a roar of conversations. He started pacing the length of the stands as a way to keep his restlessness sated while he tried not to focus on any singular face for too long, especially not—Nope. Focus.

"Per my father’s orders I’m here to help get camp back on track. Ajax let camp fall into disarray and my late brother was not around long enough to accomplish much." River stopped for a second, sparing Andy a quick glance before sucking in a soft breath and continuing. "Andy stepped up when no one else did and helped rebuild… Which isn’t a small feat and her efforts shouldn’t be overlooked." It was hard for him to admit he was an ass to her when he arrived at camp, harder still to give kudos where they were due. But just because his father sent him there to lead didn’t mean he had to be soulless in the process.

River cleared his throat, trying to find his words before speaking. "Now that everyone has had time to recover from the horrors of Pandora’s Box, my focus is going to be on training, the original purpose for camp… Not parties every night or the Greek tragedy that was the Valis’s chokehold on this place." He nodded his head, his pacing slowing until he turned to face everyone head on. "No one likes training, but it’s important. The world won’t forget you’re demigods just because you ignore it. We can’t stop things from happening, but I can help prepare you all so if the time comes, you can defend yourselves."

"Alright." He tucked his clipboard under his left arm and clapped his hands together. "Because half of us here are new and I don’t know your capabilities, the first three days of training will be assessments. This will help get a baseline for where everyone stands so I can better tailor the training to you specifically. Today’s test is agility." River held out his hand and motioned toward the obstacle course behind him.

"There are ten obstacles, starting with the tires and ending with the long jump." He pointed at the associated locations as he spoke. There was a second where he contemplated if he should explain the course, but from where River was standing, it seemed fairly self explanatory. "And while I could try to explain each one to you, I feel leading by example might be the best approach."

River sucked in a breath and made his way over to where Andy sat beside who he could only assume was her boyfriend. He vaguely remembered the guy’s name from his sheet… Matt? Mike?... Something with an ‘M.’ He flashed them both an awkward smile before holding out his clipboard toward Andy. "Do you mind tracking my time?" He asked her as he fished out a stop watch from his pocket with his other hand.

She looked between him and her boyfriend for a second with an expression that looked like a mix of confusion and surprise. Andy hesitantly reached out to take both offered items with a small nod of her head. "Yeah, sure."

"Just hit that button to start it when I reach the tires." River gave her one final nod, skimmed his audience then turned around and headed for the course. He hated everything about being the center of attention. He was the type of guy that preferred to disappear in a crowd, or better yet, avoid the crowd entirely. All eyes focused on him was his worst nightmare. The thought of being watched intently by dozens of demigods ready to scrutinize his every move and laugh if he failed made the anxiety twist violently in his stomach. He focused on keeping his breaths deep and steady as he crossed the arena.

When he closed in on the line of thirty tires, River reached over his head, grabbing a fist full of fabric and pulled off his shirt in a single swift move. He discarded the piece of clothing at his feet, then slowly approached while stretching each arm across his chest and rolling his neck to rid himself of any kinks and pop his joints. There was a strong temptation to delay, but rather than prolong the inevitable he inhaled one last deep breath then ran toward the line of tires.

The first obstacle was easy. He kept his knees high as his feet quickly tip-toed back and forth between the two lines of tires. Next was a series of five long logs set up similar to hurdles getting progressively higher. The first three River hurdled with ease, although he nearly clipped his foot on the third. For the fourth he half mounted it, bracing his hands against the log and lifting himself up. Instead of jumping back down, he stood up, pushed off the log and leapt for the last one. He landed on it like he was hopping across stepping stones, then dropped down to face his next challenge.

River didn’t hesitate before he fell to the ground and started the low crawl. He moved swiftly and efficiently, alternating pulling himself with his elbows and pushing with his feet. His heavy breaths stirred sand around him, while the dirt began clinging to the sweat that started to glisten along his torso. When he reached the end, he pushed off the ground and ran to the next obstacle that was a single rope dangling from a tall wooden support. He wiped off the dirt, sand, and sweat that clung to his palms onto his pants before grabbing a hold of the rope and jumping. Quick but with a methodical rhythm, River pulled himself up then pinched the rope tight between his feet and around his ankles. He climbed higher and repeated the process until he reached the top. He descended fast, making sure not to get rope burn on the way down, then dropped the final eight feet and continued onward.

The rope bridge was another quick task, as long as he paced himself and made sure each step landed on a cross section, he traversed it with minimal hiccups or delays. The bridge ended in a platform with ropes at the ready to swing over a long shallow pool of water. River didn’t waste his time catching his breath or preparing. The second he reached the rope he grabbed hold, ran to the edge and jumped. He landed on the other side a little wobbly, but tucked and rolled his way through it.

Next he came to a series of three balance beams that made the most precarious and unsafe looking bridge. Out of all the obstacles—while this one looked relatively harmless—it was also the one that made him the most concerned. River never had the best sense of balance, but before he could overthink it or psych himself out, he continued. Whether intentional or not, the moment he started up the incline, his arms extended out sideways to aid in his balance. He made it about halfway without incident before he started swaying and wobbling. His steps quickened, hurrying down the declining beam and jumping off just before gravity would have won.

Stretching out before him was a sight that actually brought him some comfort… the pool. River ran straight toward the edge, kicking off to give himself the biggest jumpstart he could get before diving into the water with an effortless grace that only a child of Poseidon could possess. The water rejuvenated him, recharging his energy and soothing his aching muscles. He slipped into a perfect freestyle stroke, crossing the pool at an astonishing speed and never once coming up for air.

As he climbed out, River was met with a log ladder that extended straight up and looked like it was made for a giant. Unable to climb it like an ordinary ladder, he grabbed and mounted the lowest rung, pulling himself up until he could step on the log. He proceeded to follow a similar pattern of half hoisting himself up while he caught the next rung beneath his foot or knee. When he reached the top he rolled his body over the log, then descended quickly, skipping a step when he could until he was close enough to the ground that he could drop the rest of the way. There was only one obstacle left, so before he ran out of steam, he sprinted straight at the pool of water and jumped, clearing it with a few feet to spare.

River’s chest heaved with every deep breath he took. He gave himself a moment or two to be thankful it was over and attempt to calm down. He rested his hands on his hips as he crossed the arena to recover his abandoned shirt. Rather than putting it back on, he used it to wipe the sweat from his brow, then draped it over his shoulder. He returned to Andy without a word, still trying to catch his breath as he held out his hand for the clipboard and stopwatch.

"9 minutes and 37 seconds," she shared his time while handing everything over.

He nodded his head in silent gratitude before turning his attention back to the rest of the campers that somehow looked even less thrilled. "You have 15 minutes to complete the course—" he took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart rate and stop panting so he could actually speak. "—Because this is an assessment, there will be no skipping obstacles, no cheating, no powers, and no helping each other. Break any of the rules and it is an automatic failure."

River double checked his notes one last time then nodded his head when he was certain he covered everything. "Alright then. You’ll run the course in groups of five. First up is Sloane, Sylas, Nate, Maylisse and Andy…"

^{interactions ....|.... everyone at training ............... mentions ....|.... none ............... collabs ....|.... none}

Reign of the Usurper

^{#42557d ....|..... outfit ............... #b5c7eb ....|..... outfit ............... guard's barracks}

Whispers and excitement had been rising as the dawn of the summer solstice grew closer. It was difficult to pass through the halls and not hear servants or nobles murmur about the various Lords and Ladies that would soon grace the Black Citadel. There had never been a time during King Rowan’s reign that all of the great houses were under the same roof, and before him it had still been centuries prior. It was unusual and all anyone in the valley was talking about. As the day crept closer even the royals began to stir within their chambers, restless from nerves or elation.

While others hasten about with growing anticipation, Declan’s roles and duties became more critical and dire. More nobles meant more people his guardsmen and himself had to protect. The King’s Guard had the largest and best trained personal guard in the ninefold. Some of the best men he had the pleasure of working alongside were under his command, but they were trained to look after a solitary royal family and patrol the city. Having to protect eight additional noble families while also putting his own family’s safety first and foremost was a daunting task.

At the peak of summer, even in the undercroft, the heat was palpable. Declan had removed his uniform earlier that day, no longer able to withstand the sweat that accumulated beneath the plate armor. His cloak and leathers were carefully laid across his bed, ready to be dawned in a moment’s notice. He sat at his writing table, hunched over a stack of parchments. His off white tunic clung to the damp skin of his back and was half undone to entice any breeze to slip beneath the collar and cool him. Dark brown locks were tied back with a strip of leather and stray hairs dangled freely before his face. A bead of sweat hugged the coil of a single curl, following its curve until it slipped free and landed on the piece of parchment in his hands with a quiet drip.

Declan had spent the past handful of hours pouring over every detail of his proposed schedule for the guard. No matter how many times he looked it over he felt like he was missing something or under preparing. It was singlehandedly the most important task that had befallen him since he was made Captain of the Guard. The pressure was suffocating and no amount of preparation seemed to put his nerves at ease. He had resigned to read over his pages for the countless time that day when there was a knock at his door.

A deep sigh rumbled in his chest as he discarded the papers onto his desk along with the quill that had been clutched in his right hand. Declan reclined back in his chair, running a hand over his sweat covered brow and down along his short coarse beard. "Come in," he instructed the visitor.

The metal ring handle rattled against the door as it was opened, wood creaking, and rusted hinges groaning in protest. Before him stood one of his guardsmen in full attire, no doubt burning like a furnace beneath his armor and leathers. "Apologies for the intrusion, Captain."

"No apologies necessary," Declan replied with a dismissive wave of his fingers. "What is it?"

The man reached up, grabbing ahold of his helmet and pulled it off with an exasperated grunt. His long blonde hair clung to his cheeks and forehead, skin glistening as wet streaks of sweat trickled down his neck. "Your bother—"

Declan sighed almost immediately as his head dipped to rest against his hand while his thumb and index finger started rubbing circles on his temples. "Fuck" he grumbled.

The guardsman cleared his throat before proceeding. "Your brother was supposed to have an audience with the Queen over an hour ago."

That was far less surprising news than he had expected. Their mother, no doubt, had plans to make the rounds to each of his siblings, ensuring they would be on their best behavior and secure prestigious marriages. It likely involved preening, grooming, and no lack of last minute lessons on manners and courting. But what he failed to see was how that information warranted his concern. Declan slowly looked up from beneath sweat lined brows, glancing at the guard over the top of his hand waiting for whatever additional information was being withheld.

The man adjusted his stance, knuckles going white as his grip around the hilt of his sword tightened, reluctant to speak. "We have… been unable to find him."

A heavy breath slipped from Declan’s nose as he sat upright in his chair. He remained pensive and quiet for a long moment before a tired laugh grew in his chest as he stood up. He had been so concerned that everything pertaining to the guard went without an incident that he overlooked the most unpredictable piece on the board… his brother. That was his mistake. He knew better than to have anyone but himself watching over him on the eve of an important event. The guardsmen try, but Dorian knew the citadel better than the back of his own hand. Him and Rhea had mastered the art of evading their overseers and slipping out of the castle before they reached ten years.

"Have you searched the caverns, servants’ quarters, and cellar?" he asked as he crossed his room to his bed where all his gear was laid out. Declan grabbed the leather belt that was laced through his sword’s sheath and started fastening it around his waist. It was too damn hot to wear his armor and leathers, and if he planned on traveling discreetly the last thing he needed to do was draw attention to himself by looking like a guard.

"We searched every inch of the citadel, even the secret passages. He is nowhere to be found."

Declan gave a resolute nod as he tightened the belt around his waist then carefully slid his sword into its sheath against his left hip. He crossed the room to the guard and placed a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. "I shall handle this, Robb. Go cool yourself in the Weave." He gave him one last reassuring squeeze and added, "Be sure to return before sun down."

He slipped past the man in the doorway and stepped out into the barracks. Numerous empty cots lined the room with bed clothes tossed about and trunks half open or overflowing with personal belongings. No one dared to burn a fire in the hearth given the heat, even the candles and torches were extinguished to aid in whatever comfort they could find. The room was empty, most of the men were on duty or out enjoying their last moments of freedom before the Lords arrived. Declan might have thought the room was barren if it weren’t for the faint sound of chiseling coming from the far side of the room.

The barracks were quiet save for the rhythmic scrape of steel against wood. The sound came slow and deliberate, each pass of the blade measured, as though the motion itself were a kind of prayer. Soleil, though none here called her that, sat at the edge of her bunk, shoulders drawn in, her head bowed slightly over the small disc of ashwood in her hands. The air hung thick and heavy with the heat of summer, dense enough to taste. Even the stones of the barrack walls seemed to sweat, their early morning chill long since driven out by the relentless sun.

Her crimson tunic clung to her skin, dark patches blooming where sweat had gathered beneath her arms and across her back. The fabric itched faintly against the bindings beneath, but she bore the discomfort as she bore all things—silently, with the grim patience of one who had chosen her path and would not turn from it. A single braid traced the line of her spine, intricate weaves from along the sides of her head twisted back to connect to it, a thread of order in the oppressive warmth, while smaller strands clung damply to her temples. The other men had complained loudly of the heat, swore oaths about dying before they’d don their armor again, but Lei only worked her knife, letting their absence grant her solitude as one by one they’d spilled out, looking to enjoy what they’d all claimed as their last few hours of freedom for some time.

Her corner of the barracks was immaculate. The cot, tight as a drum. Her sword, cleaned and oiled, resting within easy reach. Her armor carefully set aside, and a spare tunic folded neatly atop her trunk. Everything in its place, as though neatness itself might keep her secrets buried. Even the air felt ordered around her, still, reverent, save for that quiet scrape of steel and the faint rasp of her breath.

She turned the charm in her hands, the whorls of the wood catching faintly in the light that spilled through the slats of the window. She had chosen ash for its strength, its memory of fire. The runes she carved into it were small, intricate, old sigils she had learned at her sister’s knee before the weight of duty had turned their childhood games to lessons in obedience at the hands of their father. Symbols for warding, for courage, for freedom. Freedom most of all.

She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist, smearing a faint trace of grey sawdust across her temple. Her hands were calloused, steady. Each cut of the blade was clean, each curve precise. She could have carved blind and still known where to press. This was how she survived the waiting, the heat, the lies, the careful balancing act of being neither wholly herself nor wholly the man she pretended to be.

From the furthest side of the barracks, she heard the clang of a door, likely the Captain’s, and the soft murmur of voices—Declan’s, low and commanding, though she could not yet make out the words. She stilled for a moment, listening, the knife hovering just above the charm’s edge. There was always a faint hum of awareness in her when he was near, not fear, exactly, but vigilance. Declan saw too much, carried too much; he was the kind of man who noticed the cracks in others because he refused to have any of his own.

Lei’s gaze flicked toward the doorway, then back to her work. She did not move hastily, haste drew attention, but with quiet purpose, she kept carving, hoping to have the charm finished so she could fix it above her head whilst she slept tonight, to protect her dreams from sickly songs of home, especially since home was coming to her. Her fingers lingered over the wood for a moment as she brushed the tips of them over the rune for freedom, pressing against the smooth wood as if to draw a little strength from it.

The air shifted slightly as a stray breeze slithered through the window, barely enough to stir the sweat on her skin. She closed her eyes, savoring it, pretending for one brief heartbeat that she could smell pine and a cold open sky instead of hot iron and men. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of approaching steps, posture straightening out on reflex at the sight of Declan.

"Good afternoon, Captain." The words left her in a tone that never rose above what was necessary, low, composed, shaped carefully in the back of her throat. Soleil had learned long ago to round the edges of her voice, to temper its natural lilt until it carried the quiet weight of a man’s. It was not a growl nor a forced rumble, but something gentler—steady, deliberate, and respectful, like a calm river running deep beneath ice.

Lei did not shout, not even when steel clashed and the air burned with taunts during training. Her command came through presence, not volume. Every word was measured, polite without being deferential, threaded with the kind of quiet conviction that drew others to listen. Even now, sitting before Declan in the thick heat of the barracks, her voice carried that same calm, unshaken, composed, the sound of someone who had weathered much and would weather more without ever needing to raise her voice.

Declan slowly approached with soft and quiet steps, as if too much noise would disrupt the rhythmic scratching of the blade against wood. He halted a few feet away from the young man’s bed, letting his weight shift to his locked left leg. His hands rested atop one another upon the pommel of his sword as he studied the craftsman’s work, slow and methodical, born of patience and reverence not necessity. There was a careful attentiveness to each stroke, detail carved with every movement, purposeful and learned. It was peaceful among the growing chaos that was merely hours away from falling upon their heads. Moments like that made Declan wish he had a hobby of his own to pass the time, something to busy his hands and calm his mind.

"Afternoon," he replied with a calm ease that contrasted the urgency of his task. His voice was deep and rugged. Every syllable was spoken with a soothing articulation of a man that put meaning behind each word he spoke. There was a practiced patience to how he carried himself as if learned from years of practice. His presence had a way of demanding obeisance, not through cruelty or superiority, but a mutual respect from which he saw others as equals regardless of station.

"What are you making?" he asked with a gentle curiosity, leaning over slightly to try and catch a better glimpse of the etchings. Declan’s gaze shifted from the piece of wood clutched in calloused hands to the young man palming the token and knife. It wasn’t often that he got time with his men outside the chain of command. He knew each of them by name, face, and presence but not by personality or their soul.

Lei was one of the men that stood out among the crowd quite quickly, demanding attention in the way he fervently tried to remain unassuming. He heeded every command without argument or complaint, exemplary in every facet. There was something out of the ordinary with him, be it the way he kept to himself, not joining in on the fellow camaraderie among the men, or perhaps it was more simple, a need to prove that he was just as much a knight as the others regardless of stature. Declan knew there was something driving the man beyond duty and honor, but Lei kept that truth hidden. He might have been observant and perceptive, but Declan never pressed extra attention where it was clearly undesired. All that concerned him was how well his men performed, secrets were inconsequential.

Declan had approached like a storm that had learned patience. His stride was quiet, respectful even, but he carried the heat with him, as if the sun had followed him into barracks. Lei’s gaze caught—briefly, involuntarily, on the sheen of sweat tracing the lines of his throat. His off-white tunic clung damply to his torso, outlining the firm planes of muscle beneath, the strength he carried without ceremony. His skin glistened faintly in the dim light, as though the heat itself had tried to claim him and failed.

He’d halted a few feet from her cot, hands coming to rest atop the pommel of his sword. The gesture was deceptively simple, yet carried the quiet authority that always clung to him. His voice, when it came, was deep, steady, and shaped with intention. Even now, with sweat gathering beneath her bindings and trickling along her ribs, the sound of his voice seemed to hum through the heavy air, steady as a drumbeat and twice as grounding. She straightened further, averting her gaze.

For hours, her world had narrowed to the etch of runes, the familiar grain of the wood against her skin, and the slow, rooting rhythm of her work. Now, though, Lei allowed herself a moment to detach from her goal, the subtle aches from training resurfaced to the forefront of her mind, the bruise that curled around her left bicep throbbing in the oppressive heat, fingers cramped from carving and whittling for so long. After a moment, Lei lifted her gaze once more, light eyes soft but unreadable, then inclined her head in a small, respectful bow.

"A charm, Ser," Lei answered, her voice low and shaped carefully, each word carrying that quiet gentleness she never seemed to lose. She turned the disk of wood so he could see its half-finished face, the runes curling around the outer ring like tiny, coiled veins of meaning. "It’s from an old tale in Ironcrag, one my kin used to whisper around the hearth long winters ago, when I was a child."

Her thumb brushed the smooth center of the charm, a gesture almost tender.

"These runes are meant to ward off ill dreams, to keep one’s mind guarded while they sleep. Each one means something different. Protection, safety, freedom." Her finger tapped each rune as she listed them, lingering longest on the symbol for freedom. A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth, fleeting but real. "Even the type of wood chosen has its own meaning, but… it’s just superstitions, of course. Nothing more. But my eldest brother taught me how to carve them when I was small. It… reminds me of home."

Declan listened to his explanation of the runes with an intense attentiveness that showed he hung on every word. He attempted to commit their meanings to memory and welcomed the insight of a far-off land he had never visited, if only to better understand one of his men. The mention of warding off unwanted dreams and the weighted silence around ‘freedom’ caught his attention, steering his gaze from the runes up to the subtle smile that grew upon his face.

"Missing the comforts of home?" he asked the question in a way that was more of an observation, rather than a comment requiring an answer. Having spent his entire life within the Vale he could not relate personally to that type of longing, but he saw it in his father… When he thought no one was watching. As a boy he often caught his father in the library, beneath the light of a candle, reading tales from his homeland. The only reason he knew so much about Stonefallow was from those nights where his father pulled him into his lap and shared old folktales or fond memories growing up alongside those who would have been Declan’s aunt and uncle.

"A cool draught helps on the night's sleep eludes me," Declan offered his own remedy. Rest was a boon he rarely got the opportunity to enjoy. While he often attempted, recently his mind knotted with the burden of the coming months. There were so many moving pieces that it felt impossible to be prepared for everything, yet that was his job, security and preparation… He could rest after the winter solstice.

"If you find yourself struggling to sleep, it is likely that I am awake." He nodded his head in the direction of his Captain’s quarters. The movement bounced the loose curls that framed his face and sent a trickle of sweat down his temple, disappearing beneath his thick beard. "Friendly conversation can ease an addled mind." Declan shrugged his shoulders in a casual way one would in the company of a companion, not a man that looked to him as a leader. "If I am up late I’m likely in need of a distraction," he added in a hushed tone like he was sharing a little known secret that most were not privy to.

Lei stilled.

Not the careful, intentional stillness she offered most men—this one was sharper, quieter, as if Declan’s words had brushed against something tender and half-healed beneath her ribs. Her breath caught in her throat for the briefest moment, unnoticed by most, but in the silence between them it felt loud as a mis-struck blade.

Home.

The word pressed against her like cold ocean water, the kind that swallowed sound and light alike. Memories rose unbidden, her father’s shadow stretching long across the hearth, his voice a low thunder she could never outrun, the harsh sting of discipline disguised as duty, the way the walls of Ironcrag had felt less like stone and more like a tide pulling her under. The pressure of it—heavy, suffocating, was as familiar as it was unwelcome.

For a heartbeat, the dim barracks felt as deep and dark as the sea.

Lei lowered her gaze to the charm. The runes blurred at the edges, not with tears, she never allowed that, but with the effort of holding her expression steady. When she lifted her head once more, the light in her eyes had dimmed to something muted, shuttered. Like a crystal beneath the water, unable to shine brightly even in the face of the sun when it was covered by rolling waves. "No, Ser," she said softly, her voice steady but thinner around the edges, hollowed like a reed pipe. "I do not… miss home."

A beat of silence. Then a breath, shallow but claiming itself. "Only the weather. The cold winds. The fog on the peaks, not exactly comforts, but…." A small smile tugged at her mouth, practiced and polite, but it never touched her eyes. "The rest… I am content to leave behind."

Lei smoothed her thumb over the charm again, grounding herself in the familiar curve of the wood, letting her tone soften back into its usual quiet steadiness. That had been a lie, another one to add to the steadily growing pile, but it was a lie for herself this time and no one else. "But your offer is kind, Captain. And appreciated. If troubled dreams find me, I will remember." She inclined her head in a gesture of respect, measured, controlled, as always, yet an undercurrent of sincerity lingered beneath it.

Declan nodded his head in sympathetic understanding. He knew from his own experiences, and from tales told by his men, that no home was perfect. Every family had their discord. It manifested itself differently from man to man, but in the end they were always left wanting. That had proven to be a common denominator among the King’s Guard, a desire for more. Be that to prove themselves, continue a legacy, or in Lei’s circumstance, seek a home and purpose somewhere new.

"The guard will always be a home and family to those who choose it," Declan replied with a calm and confident assurance. "However, you could have brought some of your Northern wind down with you," he jested with a soft levity that contrasted his gruff voice. "I would forsake my oath if that meant I could lie in snow for but a moment." The corners of his mouth curved upward, bright and warm like a beacon through fog against the dark coarseness of his beard.

Soleil hadn’t expected to laugh. Truly, her body did it before her mind could catch up, a startled sound, soft and bright and shaped in a way she never allowed herself around the men. It slipped out like a drop of water breaking loose from high stone, lighter than it had any right to be. The moment it left her, she froze, breath halting, horror prickling along her spine.

Too light. Too warm. Too much like her and not the man she pretended to be.

But the sound was already hanging between them, delicate as frost. She swallowed once, easing her expression back into the steadier lines Lei wore like armor. "Forgive me, Captain," she murmured, voice dipping into that deeper, controlled register again. "Your oath remains intact, for I fear I cannot conjure snow on command. If I could, the barracks would be far colder than my fellow guardsmen would prefer."

There was a faint curve on her lips still—small, quiet, but real. Embers of that unguarded moment lingered, and she could feel the warmth of it like a betrayal against her ribs. Lei was not careless. She kept herself apart by design, a shadow among steel and men, easier to protect the lie when she offered nothing else. In close to a year among the Guard, she had never gifted them a laugh. Not once. It had been safer that way, cleaner, simpler, less dangerous. Yet Declan’s jest had peeled something loose in her chest.

She dipped her head slightly, a gesture of respect, and a moment to collect herself.

Declan’s face brightened, unguarded and jovial as he matched Lei’s laugh with one of his own, deep, hearty, and from the chest. The contrast in their tones was stark and might have drawn attention if there were others around, but it was just them. The Captain noticed. He always noticed the small things often overlooked or off kilter. There had been miniscule, missable moments only a silent watcher could have observed, subtle shifts in posture, the intentional isolation, or an indescribable softness that most of the men seemed to lack. They posed questions he didn’t have the answers to, but more importantly the only answers he needed were if he was worth his salt and if he was loyal. Lei hadn’t proven himself otherwise, so the hidden truths didn’t matter.

He couldn’t recall the last time he laughed, loud, genuine, and weightless. Everything had been bearing down on him so heavily that Declan had forgotten to try and hold fast to the quieter moments, if nothing else but to keep him from going mad. Life as the guard Captain rarely left him the opportunity to enjoy the finer things like a good book, a colorful sunrise, or a comforting laugh with a friend. His duties had taken him away from the things he used to take for granted, like friendships. Aside from Rhea, he was rarely graced with the presence of those he held dear. He found out all too late that a change in title was capable of altering how others saw him as well. But one quiet moment of true laughter let him be just Declan... even if it was fleeting.

"To hell with the other men," he jested with a disregarding wave of his hand and another chuckle. "I am of the North. I do not keep this beard for the pleasure of others. I would bathe in an arctic lake if it meant I’d be rid of this incessant heat." Declan’s smile remained, curving into his cheeks and squinting his eyes. It was charming in an unassuming and humble way where the man had no thought or care for how he looked. "Winter is in my blood… I melt in the summer, if that wasn’t already obvious," he added, taking a slight step back and holding out his arms to make an example of his damp tunic that clung to the contours of his frame.

Lei’s smile deepened before she could stop it—small, lopsided, and startlingly warm. One cheek dimpled, a rare and unguarded flicker of expression that felt almost like stepping into sunlight after too long in shadow. She didn’t laugh again, she didn’t dare. But her shoulders betrayed her anyway, trembling in a barely-there shake as she pressed her lips together, trying to smother the sound rising in her chest.

"Captain," she managed at last, voice softer, tinged with humor she no longer bothered to hide. Her eyes shimmered with it, pale and bright, their edges crinkling. "If the summer has declared war on you, then rest assured you do not suffer alone." Soleil tipped her head, letting her posture relax just enough to feel like truth rather than performance. The heat of the evening pressed against her skin, and for once, she did not conceal the discomfort.

"Let me tell you a secret," she continued, low and conspiratorial, the curve of her grin widening just a fraction more. "I have been melting since the moment I arrived."

Her shoulders rose in a faint shrug that was wry, resigned, undeniably amused. It felt nice, to let go of the farce for only a moment, to let some of the bits and pieces that she’d been stifling for months slip through. "Ironcrag prepares its own for many things, but it does not teach one how to survive a more Southern summer." She glanced meaningfully at his damp tunic, then at her own collar where warmth pooled unpleasantly beneath, darkening the red fabric. "If it brings you comfort, just know you are not the only one melting in this cursed heat."

Her dimple flashed again, quick as a heartbeat. And though she kept her voice steady, Lei felt that same dangerous flutter in her ribs, the kind laughter had almost unmasked once already.

"Perhaps we deserve a small delay past the Weave on our journey," Declan added with a soft smile. The thought of running his fingers through the cool water that passed through the valley from the mountains sounded far more enticing than wrangling his brother. While the latter had to be done, that didn’t mean he had to be miserable in the process.

She weighed the charm in her hand for a moment, the blade glinting faintly in the dim barracks light. They’d never spoken quite like this before, it made Soleil feel as if her bones were itching beneath her skin, discomfort a thick blanket of hot adding to the already rancid weight of tangible heat in the air. She studied Declan—his posture, the heaviness behind his eyes, the tension carried in the set of his shoulders rather than his voice. The Captain was a man carved from granite and oathbinding, but even stone showed strain beneath enough weight.

Her tone remained quiet, yet direct.

"Is all well, Captain?" It was better to be direct, or the anticipation singing through her blood would make her fingers tremble, it would give away more than Lei was willing to show to anyone, let alone Declan. "If you require something of me, say the word. I am at your service." The words tasted like ash in her mouth, she’d rather he left, immediately, actually. But she’d made oaths, and that came before her own personal discomfort as the weight of her lies bore down around her throat like an executioner's blade.

A wary smile tugged at the corner of Declan’s lips showing a small glimpse at the exhaustion that rested heavily upon his shoulders and sunk into his soul. "My brother is missing… again." His fingers lightly tapped against the hilt of his sword as a deep laugh fell from his lips. "Not that we are surprised." He shrugged his shoulders with a slight tilt of his head as if it was unavoidable. "I must go into the valley and retrieve him. I intended on going alone, but noticed you on my way out."

Declan’s gaze fell to the rune that was keeping Lei occupied and in that moment he should have left the man to his own interests rather than aiding him in a Prince hunt. His smile tightened as he took a half step back with a resolute nod. "Forgive me." He pressed his hand to his chest in a remorseful gesture. "He is my burden." After adjusting how his sword rested on his hip, Declan gave the man a final nod then turned toward the door.

Lei rose the moment Declan turned, the motion fluid despite the stiffness burning in her muscles. The charm was laid carefully upon her bunk, left like a small promise waiting to be finished. Her fingers found the knife beside it, still warm from her grip, and slid it into the sheath at her waist with a quiet, practiced click. Duty steadied her hands even when emotion threatened to loosen them.

Her sword followed, lifted with both reverence and inevitability, the familiar weight settling against her hip like a second spine. Steel never asked questions. Steel never cared for the truth behind her name.

"Captain." Her voice remained low, but there was a new thread woven through it—firm, certain, unshaking. The kind of tone she used only when she spoke an oath. Lei stepped forward, posture straight despite the crushing heat, despite the bruise blooming along her arm, despite the ache of a childhood that still clung like saltwater to her bones. A bead of sweat slid from her temple, cutting a clear trail through the wood ash that had been smeared there. "Your burdens are mine."

A statement, not a courtesy. Truth echoed in the four simple words, because it was something that Soleil believed wholeheartedly. Joining the King’s Guard hadn’t been a way to prove herself, it wasn’t a half baked dream she’d cooked up when the snow hid light from her windows as a child. It had been a burning desire of duty and honor, something women were told they were not meant to feel. Lei felt it, though, just as surely as she felt her own heartbeat. When she’d taken her oaths, she’d put her entire soul into the acceptance that this was her new life, and that her future and goals were now aligned with the desires and whims of the royal family.

"As my captain, what weighs upon you must, in turn, weigh upon me." She held his gaze, light eyes steady, expression unreadable but resolute. Beneath her ribs, her heartbeat thudded like a warning drum, but outwardly she was carved from quiet certainty. "If the Prince is missing, then let me assist you in bringing him home. I would be…"

A breath, soft as snowfall. A crack in her armor, as it were, as a thread of uncertainty wove into her spine. Was she overstepping? Soleil had never been one to back down though, and she would not start now.

"...honored, if you would allow it." Her hand came to rest lightly on the pommel of her sword, more a gesture of readiness than threat.

The Captain stopped in his tracks, pivoting where he stood to turn and face Lei. To his dismay, he was faced with the young man already on his feet, ready and willing, preparing his steel. Declan had been with the guard for several years, a handful of those as the Captain, yet it still always took him by surprise how steadfast his men were. Of course he could have managed on his own just fine. Pulling a drunken Dorian out of a brothel wasn’t a complicated task, but even as a man often surrounded by others, he found himself more lonely than not. The thought of a companion through the tedious journey did ease the burden, if only moderately.

"If only you are certain. I do not wish to rob you of your last moments of peace," Declan replied, offering the man an easy escape from duty and honor. While all his men had taken oaths to the kingdom, the crown, and to him, he did not expect them to drop everything and follow him into town on behalf of his lecherous brother. No one would be able to pry Dorian from the bosom of a prostitute other than himself, so Lei’s assistance was not necessary… But appreciated.

Lei dipped her head in a small, steadying nod, one that held no hesitation, no reluctance, only a quiet certainty carved from the same place as her calm. "Peace is a strange thing, Captain," she said, stepping toward him with an ease that belied the steel she had been readying moments before. Her voice remained soft, but there was a weight beneath it, something old, patient, shaped by the mountains she’d come from. "Most think it is the absence of trouble. But endless winter teaches differently."

She paused at his side, eyes catching the lamplight—cool, pale, serene, like moonlit snow. "Storms howl. Winds cut through every layer they can find. Ice cracks underfoot. Yet even there, in all that noise and bite, you still learn to breathe… to listen." Her hands settled calmly at the line of her belt, as though she had all the time in the world. "You find your peace in the midst of it, not outside of it." Lei’s gaze softened, a faint, fleeting warmth threading through her usually even expression.

"I will have my moments of quiet, even tonight. Chaos does not steal them from me." She nodded toward the entrance, posture relaxed. "Lead the way."

"While my blood may be Northern, I was born in the South… It is all I know," Declan replied with a slow nod. "I envy you. To be able to find peace amid the chaos is a gift I was not taught. Peace is a rarity that often alludes me and when I find it the world weighs far too heavy for me to enjoy it." A soft, contemplative sigh escaped his lips adding to the hot and dense air that already surrounded them. He sat in that moment of silence for a beat or two before his smile slowly returned. "You might have to teach me your ways."

Declan rapped his thumbs against the pommel one last time before conceding to Lei’s persistence and his own selfish desire for company. "Very well. We travel as civilians to avoid drawing unwarranted attention. Leave your uniform behind, and outside of the Citadel, call me Declan… not Captain." With one final nod, Declan’s right hand fell to his side, left hand resting on his sword’s hilt as he turned and made his way for the door.

Lei blinked once, slow and startled, like a bird roused from stillness.

Declan. Not Captain. Not ser. A prince’s blood, a commander’s authority, offered to her as though it were nothing more than a traveling cloak shrugged from his shoulders. Her stomach dipped. For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe.

"Yes, ser–" The word snapped out of her by habit, crisp and obedient. Then she faltered, the correction catching in her throat like a stone, irritation with herself fluttering in her chest. "…err—Declan."

His name felt too intimate on her tongue, too bare. As if she had peeled off something protective without meaning to. Soleil forced her spine straight, nodding sharply in hopes it would disguise the tremor that fluttered just beneath her skin. He turned toward the door, and she was grateful, deeply grateful, that his back was to her. Heat already clung to the barracks like a second skin, thick and humid, but now it worked in her favor. The burning flush that swept unbidden across her cheeks, down her throat, and bloomed across the back of her neck could be blamed entirely on the sweltering air. Not on the shock of hearing him offer her the familiarity of his name. Not on the strange, unwelcome warmth curling low in her chest at the thought of walking beside him disguised as civilians.

She swallowed, steadying herself before following.

Hand brushing the steady weight of her sword, she stepped after him, boots whispering over stone. As she trailed him through the doorway, she could not keep her eyes entirely from him, broad shoulders framed by the distant sunlight, confidence in every step. This would, she realized darkly, be a test to her cover in every way that mattered, but that realization did not stop Lei from following him from the castle and into the valley. Rather, the idea of the challenge made her heart flutter in the same manner battle did, filling her with exhilaration.

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... dorian & rhea ............... collabs ....|.... @Sleepy Tani}

Descendants

^{#962929 ....|..... hell's angel ....|..... outfit ............... #feffb5 ....|..... redback ....|..... outfit ............... myla’s penthouse}

"Myla, wait!" Theo’s voice echoed from farther down the staircase. Fueled by rage and adrenalin, Myla had made it to the same level as the parking garage before she finally stopped. Her thigh was throbbing and blood trickled down her left side, trailing thin lines of crimson from beneath her shirt and along the bare skin of her waist. Her chest heaved, unable to pull in air fast enough to calm the bloodlust that plagued her mind or the tremors that shook her. She grabbed the railing, slowly spinning herself around and lowering herself to sit on the stairs. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on bent knees. Her violently shaking hands stretched out in front of her while her once scabbed knuckles were split open again and blood dripped between her fingers.

Theo followed the blood, and the sight of it made him feel queasy. Why did she run? Was she mad at him? He couldn’t blame her for it, he should have just let Veronica fall. He shouldn’t have ever given her the chance…he paused, breathing hard, his good hand curled around his bad shoulder. "Damn it," he muttered, facing the wall and taking in a deep, shuddering breath. He slammed his shoulder against the wall hard, trying to stifle the groan of pain that followed as he set his own shoulder back into place in anger. It took him a few seconds, and then he started back up the stairs, following the sound of her breathing until he found her. "I’m sorry," Theo’s voice was broken, and he kneeled down in front of her, hands rising with uncertainty, as if he was afraid to touch her. "Myla…"

She swallowed trying to slow her breathing and get her fucking hands to stop shaking. Myla’s head rose slightly to face him, anger furrowed her brows, tensed her muscles and pulled the corners of her mouth downwards into a scowl. But the rage wasn’t for him. She tried to find the softness he pulled from her but all she felt was an acidic hatred burning at her insides. "Why are you apologizing?" she whispered through shaky breaths as her thumb picked at the torn skin of her split knuckles.

"I should have let her fall," he leaned in to her, catching her face between his hands and…Theo just held her for a moment, letting his thumb rub softly over her cheek, breathing her in until his own breathing steadied and his temper calmed. It took a few moments, but finally when he dragged open his eyes he was calm enough to think clearly.

Myla’s eyes slowly closed as she tilted her head into his touch. She used the gentle rhythmic strokes of his thumbs like a metronome to calm and slow down her breathing, easing the storm raging inside her. "No," she whispered, resting her shaking hands in the dips of his elbows. "That’s not who you are." She swallowed the lump in her throat as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, trying desperately to ground herself. "I could have killed her," she confessed, her words barely making a sound as they slipped out. "I wanted to. I would have… If you didn’t hold me back."

"Myla, I love you." The words spilled from his lips before he could stop them, undeterred by her murderous confession, heart thundering in his ears. He meant it though, it was the sort of thing you may realize a little too late, the sort of declaration better saved for a beautiful beach and perfect setting, but he didn't have the energy to not say it, not anymore, not looking at her now and knowing everyday may be their last. "For a second, when she went over the ledge, I forgot that it wasn’t you and I just reacted. I-I can’t lose you, because I love you and I’ve loved you for a long time now."

"What?" The word was stuck in her throat, caught and rough with surprise at his confession. What happened to the beach? The perfect moment? And why did it still steal the breath from her lungs even though she knew the unspoken words he was aching to say. Mirroring their first kiss outside the tower just a day ago, Myla’s hands cupped the sides of his face and closed the distance between them, desperate to taste his lips again. She breathed heavily through her nose, pulling him closer like any gap between them was too much space. It took every fiber of control in her being to break the kiss for only a fraction of a second to speak a breathy whisper against his lips. "I love you too."

A small, breathless laugh escaped him and he was swallowed by her lips as he chased them. He’d been silly to want to wait for the perfect moment, because this was just as perfect as any other. She was here, in his arms, and she loved him too, how could he have ever wanted to wait? It didn’t matter if they were on a beach or in a stairwell, the location didn’t alter how true his feelings were and he would continue to tell her that he loved her no matter where they were. Theo pulled back after a few moments, breathing hard and trying to remember what self control was. "Infirmary?" He managed, wanting to ignore the fact that she was bleeding and Phil’s rule and just indulge. He was fairly certain Myla wouldn’t stop him, either, but she was hurt and he did want their first time to be a little more romantic than the stairs.

"No," the whisper fell from her lips as tried to close the space between them he created, sounding desperate, practically begging. Theo got to break a rule, so why couldn’t she? He didn’t wait until the beach like he said, but let the confession slip out in a cold and empty stairwell. So why did Myla have to wait until she was healed? Given everything that was happening around them, she was never guaranteed to be back at 100% again. She wasn’t bleeding that bad and half of the stitches still held on… If barely. She didn’t care. It could be worse and she still wouldn’t care.

Myla inched closer to him, her knees lightly pressed against his hips. The tip of her nose brushed against his as she tilted her head from one side to the other. She breathed heavily, heart racing with a yearning and a need that ached and burned from deep inside. "I want you," she pleaded against his lips, breathy and lustful in a way she hadn’t sounded before. She swallowed as she ran her fingers tentatively along the top of his hand and slipped them between his fingers. Slowly, cautiously, with flushed cheeks and a featherlight touch, she guided his hand along the curve of her thigh, dipping down until the calloused skin of his palm brushed against the thin fabric that separated his fingers from the tender warmth beneath.

"Fuck," Theo was not, at the end of the day, anything better than a man in love with a woman who was hot as hell. And when said hot woman says I want you like that, you don’t argue or complain. The reaction his body had to her tone, so soft and breathless as she pleaded with him on this last rule, was instantaneous. "Here?" He wasn’t arguing it anymore, because Theodore wanted Myla just as much, and he couldn’t imagine a world in which he turned her down here and now, not with her hand curled around his and his fingers pressing into a warmth that made color flood his face.

A small tremble passed through her body like a wave at the soft pressure of his hand between her legs. Her breath was hot against his skin as her lips ghosted across his with every inhale and whispered word. "I don’t care where." Her empty palm cupped his jaw while the tip of her thumb ran along the edge of his bottom lip in the sliver of space between them. "Now." The plea fell from her mouth like a quiet but desperate moan. Myla didn’t care if it happened in a bed, on the beach or on the stairs. All that mattered was now. Every kiss and tender word chipped away at her resolve until his love broke away what last shred of control she had left. They could die tomorrow or in an hour. The future wasn’t guaranteed. But what she did know was that they had that moment. Nothing else mattered.

"I love you." It was all he could say as he shifted her from where Myla was all but perched in his lap, mind made up as he started to undress her with an urgency that matched his own. Their first time wouldn’t be how he’d imagined it, no soft bed and lit candles, none of the gentle romanticism he’d pictured, but it was perfect just like this too. Messy, fast, but passionate as he repeated those three words over and over, like a prayer.

* * *

Myla wasn’t sure when they made it to her penthouse, nor did she fully recall how they got there. All she was certain of was that they broke Phil’s rule at least once… or was it twice? Regardless, they made it to the apartment and even managed not to leave any of their clothing behind. However they never actually made it to the bed. They laid tangled and naked on the couch, skin glistening with sweat while heavy breaths filled the silence of the quiet room. Most of Myla’s weight rested on top of Theo. Her right leg was bent and splayed across his waist, left cheek resting against his heaving chest like a pillow while her fingers traced random patterns across his stomach.

"You didn’t hurt me, by the way," she whispered against his warm skin, her persistent smile never fading. While he didn’t ask, Myla felt the need to clear the air knowing how scared he was of injuring her or making her wounds worse. But her side had stopped bleeding… at some point. Otherwise, the only thing she ever felt was love, pleasure… and him.

Would Phil accept a gift basket for an apology? Hopefully he didn’t publicly shame them like he had Imogen, but Theo had a sinking suspicion that Phil didn’t discriminate when it came to humiliating someone. Ah, oh well. He’d do it all again in a heartbeat, the grin on his face evidence of how pleased he was with the turn of events. The small ball of anxiety that had formed at the idea that he had hurt her eased some, the fingers of his right hand trailing slowly up and down the curve of her spine. "I was worried," he admitted, glancing down at Myla and finding that a simple look at her was enough to ignite his desires again, so instead he looked up at the ceiling. "Sometimes my strength slips away from me, so I was trying extra hard to be gentle."

"I’m not as fragile as you think." Her voice was soft but there was a faint hint of challenge behind her words. The tip of her finger idly circled his belly button and lightly brushed across the hair just beneath it.

Not that the entire thing had been gentle, it was impossible with how desperate and hungry they’d each been for one another's touch. Her skin was so soft beneath his calloused fingers, and a large part of Theo’s brain was reciting mathematical formulas to try and keep a semblance of control. "Was it…I mean, did you, um…" He trailed off, his other hand rubbed gently at the back of her thigh, trying to find the words he wanted to say. Why was it harder to ask if she’d enjoyed herself than it was to tell her that he loved her? "I’m still taking you to the beach tomorrow." Theo said instead, cheeks warm.

"You couldn’t tell?" she asked quietly, feeling her own cheek grow warm pressed against his chest. Myla didn’t keep track or count. It wasn’t a competition. She was far too wrapped up in him to care about something as trivial as that. But it was more than once. The sensations were still fresh in her mind, the way her back arched against the cold edges of the stairs, how her thighs tightened around his waist, and the waves of pleasure that shook her body. Just the memory reignited the fire that burned in her core for him and made her heart flutter. She swallowed, adjusting how she laid on him slightly.

"You were the first—" Her face scrunched slightly as she realized how that sounded. "Well, not the first. I wasn’t a virgin." Myla anxiously stumbled through the sentence as everything was coming out wrong. She sighed as her cheeks grew more red. She shifted awkwardly against him as she searched for the words. "No one’s ever made me…" For whatever reason, she struggled to finish the thought but she hoped he knew her meaning without actually saying it.

"I…" Theo laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead. "I just wanted to be sure it was as good for you, as it was for me." He said, tone soft and reassuring. He didn’t stop his wandering hands, still quietly marveling in the softness of her skin, the flush between them, the desire to pull her back onto him was strong, but Theo was fairly sure she still needed to go to the infirmary and his insatiable desires shouldn’t stop that anymore than it already had.

And yet…"I love you." He grinned as he spoke those words again, wondering if she’d ever grow tired of hearing it as his fingers slid softly along her thigh, teasing Myla ever so gently. If he was a little proud of the fact that he’d managed to do what no other man had, he wouldn’t say it aloud…the evidence was loud enough as excitement filled him once more.

Myla wanted to tease him and ask if the moans weren’t evidence enough, but she kept the thought tucked away with a soft laugh and a fleeting kiss to the skin of his chest that was closest to her mouth. Her smile grew as he spoke the same three words he whispered to her countless times in the throes of passion between heavy breaths and muffled moans. "Are you trying to make up for all the times you wanted to say it but didn’t?" she asked with a playful smile.

"Maybe," he grinned, pressing another kiss to the top of her head but wishing he could reach her lips, or maybe even explore more of her with his mouth…Myla had maybe five minutes before he decided the infirmary wasn’t a good idea and took matters into his own hands. Apparently he folded quite easily under pressure of a certain kind, but he wasn’t sure if he could be blamed when she was so beautiful.

If it was possible, she curled in closer to him, pressing more of her body against his side. Myla's breath caught in her chest as his featherlight touch brushed along her thigh. The caress of his fingers sent a tingling chill up her back, only adding to the burning desire that built up in her again. She softly seized her bottom lip between her teeth as she felt him stirring beneath her leg. "Again?" she teased him softly, lacing her words subtly with the temptation that was growing inside her.

Five minutes…what a joke. Theo’s arms locked around her before he swiftly flipped their positions, pressing her down gently into the plush couch before he kissed her with just as much desperation and passion as earlier. "Again," He confirmed once they’d pulled away, leaning down to press a kiss to her chin, and then two on her throat, along her collarbone, lower…it wasn’t like the infirmary was going anywhere, anyways.

* * *

After they’d thoroughly worn in the couch, and one of the kitchen chairs in a particularly creative moment, Theo insisted on a shower at the very least. It wasn’t at all because he wanted the pleasure of applying soap to her body…no, not at all. Though, he did get a little side tracked in the shower, the entire afternoon was just one moment of weakness followed by another, but eventually they ended up in the bed where he promptly nestled Myla into all the blankets and created a healthy barrier between the two of them, if only to keep himself under control.

"So," the smile was practically palpable as he spoke, laying on his side with an arm carefully curled around her waist. One of his fingers was twirling a strand of her hair absentmindedly, eyes shut despite the lack of exhaustion. Theo felt great, actually. Best he’d felt in months, really, but she looked exhausted. "Apparently I can have J.A.R.V.I.S. order us food, I was thinking a pizza with awful toppings."

"You’re so far away," she whispered. Having spent the past couple hours lost in each other’s embrace, even the smallest of spaces between them felt like a mile. Myla shifted the blankets, breaking the small barrier he made to keep them separated. She slid closer until her body pressed against his, her curves conforming to the ridges of his muscles like two puzzle pieces slotting together perfectly. She curled into him, nuzzling her head into the dip between his neck and collarbone. One of her legs slipped between his and she hooked her foot around his calf. She laughed softly into the warmth of his skin. "What’s the catch?" she asked, voice muffled as she spoke into the curve of his neck. "Gonna drag me to the infirmary?"

A soft sigh escaped him, and he happily shifted to welcome her embrace, rubbing a hand gently along her side. Memorizing every contour of her body would become a new hobby for him. "I thought about it," he muttered, glancing down to make sure she wasn’t bleeding still. It had stopped long before they made it back to the apartment, but it still made a ball of anxiety twist in his chest to know that at any moment she could start again. "But as long as you aren’t bleeding, and you’re not in too much pain," Theo hesitated there, pulling back a little more to get a good look at her face. "You’re not, right?"

Myla adjusted how she was laying slightly, slipping her left hand behind her head to expose the side of her ribs where the cut was. Her right hand gently ran across the rough scabbing and loose strings of the stitches. "No more than I was before." She slowly let her arm fall back down to her side so the tips of her fingers could lightly run along the edge of his jaw. Her expression shifted to something more serious as her voice became quiet and contemplative. "Why did we wait so long?" She sighed as her head fell back against the pillow. "We wasted months and now it feels like I’m on borrowed time."

"I don’t know," Theo was careful to keep the tremble from his voice as her words slammed into his chest with all the force of a sledgehammer. It did feel as if they were both on borrowed time now, and there was likely never a future where they’d be as happy and safe as he’d like. There were less heroes everyday, but no shortage of villains. "I was scared to lose you," he spoke slowly, as if trying to puzzle it all out himself. There was an edge of vulnerability to all of his thoughts, insecurities that he’d repressed for so long that admitting to them now made him feel queasy. "I was falling in love with you, bit by bit, a little more everyday. Admitting it to myself was hard enough, but the idea of telling you too…I knew we were both looking for our dad’s and I didn’t want you to feel trapped."

Theodore let out a slow breath, tugging her just a little bit closer though it felt impossible. Now that he had her, he’d never let her go. Myla was it for him, there would be no one else. Even if they were on borrowed time, it was time that he planned to spend with her. "I don’t think it was a waste, though." He shifted, so that he could press his lips to hers, feel her warmth for a second and let it steady his heart before he pulled away. "It was time with you, that was enough for me."

"I didn’t make it easy," she confessed under her breath while the tip of her thumb slowly ran down the length of his throat. Myla’s brows pulled together, betraying the countless thoughts that twisted in her mind. "I knew, and I said nothing... I should have said something," she whispered before tucking her head beneath his chin. While Theo wasn’t wrong, they spent nearly all of their time together before, but this was different, no secrets, no masks, just each other. Knowing now what it could have been like, she felt guilty for waiting so long. Myla was always able to think of multiple reasons to remain silent and ignored the one reason not to… because she loved him.

"I never felt trapped," she whispered into the small void between them, the warmth of her breath brushing against his neck and along his collarbones. "Just… scared." Not of him, never of him. Scared of how dark and hopeless the world was growing around them. As more days ticked onward and more heroes vanished the more terrified she became that next it would be her… or him. In Myla’s own fucked up logic she thought if she kept him at an arm’s length, she wouldn’t get attached and would save herself the inevitable pain that waited around the corner. It didn’t work. And now… Even within the safety of his arms, in the tower, surrounded by people far more powerful than either of them, she was more scared than she had ever been before. She didn’t know what she’d do if something happened to him. Throw herself off the balcony she imagined. It wasn’t like she served much of a purpose there without him.

"Don’t blame yourself." His voice was firm, and Theodore abruptly sat up, tugging Myla up with him so he could pull her into his lap properly and look at her face. He needed to see that she understood what he meant, he couldn’t stand the idea of her blaming herself for something like this. "I didn’t say anything either. I’m not upset." One of his hands slid against the side of her neck, cupping beneath her jaw, thumb rubbing gently along her cheek.

"I was scared too," he laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I’m still scared, if anything happens to you I…I don’t know what I’d do." Kill himself, probably. He still had his mom to worry about, it felt dramatic and ridiculous, but Theo had meant it when he’d said he’d be lost without her. He pressed their foreheads together, letting his eyes slip shut as he held her. "I love you." He didn’t know what else to say to reassure her, or how to convince her that it was okay now, so he just repeated himself again.

Myla didn’t fight his hold on her or the way he lifted her up and into his lap. Her eyes closed slowly as his fingers brushed along her skin until he held her face in his hand. She relished in the simple touch and the comfort of feeling his warm, bare skin against hers. There was a moment where she tried grounding herself in his reassurances, but hearing him mirror the same dark thoughts that plagued her mind pulled her out of the fog. Her eyes opened as she turned toward him, concern plain across her face. "Promise me you’ll keep living if something happens to me." She reached up and took his face in both of her hands. "Promise me," she repeated, letting the gravity of what she was asking and her desperation wash over him. Myla needed to know, more than anything, that he wouldn’t stupidly follow her into an empty grave.

How could she ask that of him? The idea of continuing to live in a world where Myla didn’t also live…it was unbearable, just thinking about it made Theo feel as if someone had reached into his chest and tugged at his heart. Was this how Juniper had felt when she was attacked? His emotions didn’t feel like his own, how could he ever promise to keep living if something happened to her. "Would you?" He asked instead, because he could promise it, but it would be a lie.

Theo would keep living, but he wouldn’t be alive. Part of him would die alongside her, if something happened to Myla, if he couldn’t save her, how could he live with himself? There was no way he could survive that, not really. He could lie, but he didn’t want to. The idea of lying to her here and now just made him feel sick. "I love you," he stressed the word, wanting her to understand now more than ever what that meant to him, for him. "Myla, I can’t even think about losing you. It would be like…like if earth lost the sun, you’re not just my light, you keep me in orbit." His hands trembled against her, but he held her closer, as if any amount of space between them would unmake him.

Tears welled in her eyes when she couldn’t bring herself to answer him. Myla turned her face away and let her head fall. There was part of her that hoped Theo wasn’t as fatalistic as she was, that he could find some reason to push on, if not for his mom then to continue saving people like she’d want him to. But his non-answer told her the truth even if he wouldn’t. She wasn’t Stark or June, she didn’t have the money or resources or brain power to think up some fail safe if she died that would keep him from being rash. The only solution was not dying and when she was the weakest person in the tower, who nearly died once already, that felt very unlikely.

"You’re the sun," she corrected him softly. While Myla believed what he said with every fiber in her being, there was also a weak playfulness to her tone. "I’m like… a grumpy little raincloud." She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers slightly in a weak attempt to mime a raincloud. Theo was bright, warm, and full of life. She was dark, melancholy, and angry. He was just lucky enough to pull out the last bit of softness that was hidden away in her otherwise cold heart. If he was going to use a metaphor to describe her, he could at least be a little more accurate… The meaning behind it was still sweet if not also terrifying knowing that his happiness rested solely on her shoulders.

"I love the rain," Theo said instantly, leaning forward to pepper kissed across her cheeks, soft and sweet, fingers dancing across her side in the one spot he knew she was ticklish, grinning at her. "I have my favorite raincoat. Remember that time I convinced you to dance with me in the rain?" His lips lingered at the corner of her mouth, and he pulled back just a little, keeping the barest of space between the two of them.

It wouldn’t do any good now to try and change her mind, or back track and lie. They were too alike in that way, but maybe this was just what love did to a person. It made them reckless, and gave them hope where there ought not to be any. It made him feel warm, and happy in a way that felt foreign. Maybe Theo would live if something happened to her, but it wouldn’t be for very long, and it wouldn’t be anything like how he lived with her. "What was the song? I can’t remember," he lied, pressing his lips to hers, trying to draw that happy memory to the forefront of her mind.

Myla’s smile immediately returned just as big and bright as it had before her dark thoughts clouded her mind. She buried her face against his chest laughing as he tickled her, trying her best not to squirm too much and further upset her half torn stitches. If she didn’t know better she would have thought he did it on purpose because he knew she couldn’t fight back. Her smile changed with his comment, not fading but shifting to something deeper and more nostalgic. How could she have forgotten that night? Her body melted into his embrace, head falling to rest on his shoulder as the cloudy memories played across her mind. It was the first time she had actually laughed since her dad went missing. It felt ridiculous and stupid, and even with the privacy of a New York rooftop it still somehow ended up in the tabloids the next day, sparking the rumors of a romance between Redback and Hell’s Angel.

She squinted her eyes, pretending like she didn’t remember the song even though it had made its way onto her playlist that night and hasn’t moved since. Her thumb absentmindedly traced the contours of his muscles. "Dancing Queen, by ABBA," Myla finally answered, tilting her head back slightly to face him with a soft smile.

"Ooh-ooh, you can dance, you can jive." Theo sang, quite badly, but he was laughing as he pressed his lips to hers, grinning through the kiss as one of his fondest memories replayed through his mind. It was one of those moments that makes you feel alive as readily as feeling your own heartbeat made you feel. He’d loved dancing with her, it had been such a spur of the moment thing, but back then…he was already in love with her.

It had been three days before her birthday, and now he knew without a doubt that he’d fallen first. The kiss deepened just a little, some of his earlier desperation peaking through, but Theo pulled away before he could let himself go too far. She was all but sitting in his lap, warm skin sliding against his own, and it already took too much self control than he’d ever admit to not fall into arousal once more. "Best dance I’ve ever had." He whispered, lips fluttering against her skin.

Myla’s smile stretched nearly ear to ear at his off key singing. She was barely able to return the kisses when her lips wouldn’t cooperate enough to stop grinning. But as the silence grew and his kisses became deeper and her body responded whether she was trying to behave or not. She couldn’t fight the small pout that tugged at her bottom lip as he pulled away. Now knowing what it felt like for them to be one, every space and distance between them felt like torture. She was trying to be good, but every praise, memory, and declaration of love stirred within her. She should have let Theo take her to the infirmary or try to get rest, but with every argument all she could focus on was his skin against hers and the closeness of their bodies.

It was like an addiction. Now that she had indulged, Myla felt insatiable. Her body moved, desire overpowering reason like it already had several times that day. She shifted in his lap until her knees rested against the bed on either side of his thighs. Her hips slowly lowered until she straddled his waist and all of her weight rested in his lap. She slid forward until every space was closed between them. The tip of her nose brushed against his, chests pressed together, and the warmth of their cores so dangerously close it made her heart race. She slid her fingers back through his hair, grabbing gently at the base of his skull and tilting his head back to look up at her even if she couldn’t hold his gaze. "I love you," she whispered the words against his lips. That time she said it first, unprompted. Myla felt completely and entirely unworthy of his love but she’d spend the rest of her life trying to deserve it and make Theo feel just as loved and desirable as he made her feel.

Really, the infirmary wasn’t going anywhere so what was that harm in waiting another hour…or two, when they’d already waited so long to get her stitches looked at. He kissed her again, because her pout was adorable and beautiful and he couldn’t get enough of her, no matter how much he tried. His hands found her hips, and he shifted her easily, body eager to relearn the heat of her own. "I love you too, angel." More than he could put into words, so Theo would settle on showing her.

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... ronnie ............... collabs ....|.... @Sleepy Tani}

Descendants

^{#a8f9ff .....|..... prism ....|..... outfit ............... #796e9c .....|..... alloy ....|..... outfit ............... #00aeef ....|..... outfit ............... imogen's penthouse}

For the rest of the simulations Imogen remained silent, bouncing her leg, and shivering from the cold water dripping from her hair and clinging to her clothes. She wasn’t all that surprised that her brother’s training was a complete trainwreck. There was a part of her that sympathized with Myla who, even while injured, was trying her best only for Jim to cut their simulation short too. It really must have been the end of the world where Imogen was one of the few people who seemed to take it seriously. A part of it might have been because she was the least battle hardened person in the room, but it was still important. June and Myla were both attacked just the night before which meant any of them could be next. Phil and Alfred wanting them to train made sense, she just wished everyone else saw it too.

Theo and Ronnie’s simulation proved to be more promising in the beginning. They obviously didn’t get along, but they were working together well enough and trying. That was until Ronnie kissed him. Up until that moment Imogen hadn’t really been honing in on anyone’s thoughts, but that single act made Myla’s thoughts grow loud and violent. She couldn’t blame the woman. If someone kissed Magni in front of her like that… She sucked in a sharp breath, pushing the thought aside. But tensions were already high in their shitty ragtag team. They were scraping the bottom of the barrel of who was left. They didn’t have the luxury of infighting.

Imogen quickly got to her feet, weaving through the benches and chairs to try and reach either of the women before things got out of hand. But she wasn’t fast enough. The slam of the punch rang out and filled the silence of the room. She lingered on the edge of the confrontation, ready to intervene if necessary, but Theo stepped in before Myla was able to lunge at Ronnie and escalate things further. Imogen managed to step out of the way just before the brunette charged her way through and disappeared into the stairwell.

After both women parted their separate ways, Phil sighed, sparing a glance toward Alfred before addressing those who remained. "If it wasn’t already obvious, you all are dismissed."

Imogen flashed both of the older men a weak smile. She slowly spun around and made her way back to Magni, rubbing her arms to try and keep herself warm. "Well that all went terribly," she spoke quietly and sighed. Her index finger playfully tickled a small bit of his skin visible through a fresh hole in his shirt. "You did well though," she added as her gaze slowly lifted to meet his eyes. "Not that I’m surprised. It seems a decade has only made you more formidable." While her smile showed hints of exhaustion and didn’t quite reach her eyes, it was no less authentic. Magni had enough power to decimate everyone in the tower with a snap of his fingers and his strength was one of the many things she found attractive about him. So watching him in action, even if he didn’t take it as seriously as she did, was one of the highlights of her day… Not counting other activities that involved far less clothing.

"Thou fared well, despite the ill-timed exit of thy comrade-in-arms." Magni’s words were as sincere as usual. His eyes did shift towards the various exiting parties, before turning back in Phil’s direction. "In my time in these halls, there had been more care and consideration in our contests. It seems such compassion has departed with those who were taken." Coulson may have had years on Magni, and yet the younger man seemed disappointed with how his elder seemed to be handling yet another conflict in a universe riddled with them.

"This is no longer an academy, Mr. Thorson," Phil replied fairly unbothered as he gathered his things and shut down the simulation. "You’re welcome to file any complaints with J.A.R.V.I.S." With that, he made his way around those who remained and disappeared into the elevator with Alfred.

Magni shook his head to refocus his mind, reaching an arm out to envelop Imogen in a slight hug. He radiated warmth, doing what he could to share his heat for her benefit. "I was without my birthright." As if on cue, he lifted a free hand. A ringing ran through the air as Mjolnir was lifted by an intangible force from the ground a few feet away and floated to his grasp. He let out a relieved exhale as the hammer obeyed his whims. "I hope to show you just how formidable I am, when the time calls for it."

Imogen let her body lean into him slightly, thankful for his warmth and comfort. She appreciated that Magni thought she did well and in other light it might have made her feel more deserving of his affection, but Luke’s thoughts cast a shadow of doubt over anything she might have accomplished in training. Pampered and untrained. The words replayed in her mind like fucked up mantra, whittling away at her resolve and making her second guess her purpose there. Maybe he was right… Maybe Jim—

The start of her downward spiral was interrupted by the shift around them as mjolnir lifted off the ground and flew into his hand effortlessly. Her gaze fell to the massive hammer in Magni’s equally large hand as his words finally cut through her mental fog. "While I’m sure it will be quite the spectacle—" her fingers slowly ran along his forearm until her hand rested on top of his that held the hammer, "—I’m in no rush to see you in harm’s way," she confessed, quiet enough that only he could hear. While he was a God and could handle nearly anything thrown at him, whomever they were up against knew how to subdue an Asgardian. By that logic, it only made sense they’d know how to kill one as well. Magni might have only been hers for the better part of a day, but she intended to enjoy his company far beyond the hell they were in… If fate allowed it.

Magni nodded, his eyes drifting in the direction of the elevator. He did not need to read minds to know the worry in her words. The best he could offer from such grim thoughts was a distraction. "In the interim…" A small smile formed on his lips as he took a breath. He turned to meet Imogen’s gaze. "I believe thou didst make a vow for a more pleasurable sport this afternoon." He slid his hand from Imogen’s back, shifting it up to her upper forearm to give it a light squeeze.

While she remembered the promise she had made before training, much of Imogen’s original enthusiasm was dampened and hanging under the shadow of Luke’s words and thoughts. She hated that someone else’s opinions could sway her mood so heavily, but it was out of her control. Regardless of the spiral her emotions teetered on, she was a woman of her word. Perhaps the distraction would be enough to pull her out of her slump, maybe not. Either way it was irrelevant. She refused to let her own insecurities ruin Magni’s day along with her own. It wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last time she shelved her own feelings so she didn’t burden others.

Her smile grew as pressed the palm of her hand against his stomach, feeling the taut and chiseled muscles of his abdomen through the fabric of his shirt. She exhaled softly as she slowly looked up to meet his gaze. "I am desperate to get out of these clothes," Imogen replied while her other hand attempted to zip up her top for the millionth time to no avail. "Although… You might have to tear them off of me," she whispered as she took a small step toward him.

Meanwhile, Tobias had remained stoic, unmoving, and unbothered by most of what had happened around him. Neither the simulations nor infighting managed to pry him away from his own thoughts as he remained fixated on the Drakes and their missing daughter. He couldn’t put a finger on why it bothered him so much. It must have been some subconscious need to save someone since he failed Helena, a desperate urge to prove that he wasn’t the problem or that he had some usefulness beyond being the single person that wasn’t targeted. He fixated on it like a mad man, sifting through every possibility or way he could find her and fast, that he somehow overlooked the most obvious answer… She was a mutant.

Like flipping a switch, he was on his feet and crossing the room toward Imogen and Magni, paying zero attention to their suggestive closeness and shared whispers. "Hey Imogen. Magni. Sorry to interrupt. I…" Tobias’s brows furrowed slightly as she tried to find the words. "Do you know anyone who has access to a Cerebro?"

Imogen’s gaze fell as a frantic mind grew closer. Tobias’s thoughts raced so fast like someone flipping through pages too quickly for her to make sense of it. Her hand remained gently pressed to Magni’s stomach as her smile shifted from flirty to sympathetic sadness. "I do—but, Tobias," she sighed softly, "It won’t work. Several telepaths have tried, ones far more powerful than me… Once a mutant is taken…" Her voice trailed off as she shook her head, unable to finish the sentence. Hope was in short supply and every time she tried using Cerebro she got nothing. His drive was admirable but he was heading down a path they had tried countless times before… If only it was that easy.

"Luke said that they didn’t think the Drake daughter was taken," Tobias interjected before she could attempt to finish her thought or find another excuse not to try.

Her eyes went wide as his meaning and the realization of it sank in. Imogen took Magni’s free hand, slipping her fingers between his as she looked between him and Tobias with a new sense of urgency. "My mom gave me a mini cerebro when I came here… It’s in my room." She had already started making her way toward the elevator before she finished her sentence. It wasn’t until she stepped inside and pressed the button for her floor that she noticed how it was now the second time in one day that time with Magni had been interrupted. Her heart sank, sparing him an apologetic glance as she drifted toward the back of the lift.

Magni shook his head in rejection to her apologetic glance: saving anyone they could from their adversaries trumped any bedroom revelry. He let her drag him towards the elevator, sharing a glance with Tobias as he sought some level of understanding. "What is a Cerebro?"

"Well I…" Tobias started as he entered the lift behind Imogen and Magni, his drive to see through the one lead he had kept him too wired to be able to relax in the small metal room. "I don’t actually know how it works. Most mutants just know of it."

Imogen looked up from where her gaze was fixated on the seam between the steel doors while the elevator started carrying them higher up in the tower. Her gaze drifted between Magni and Tobias before she chimed in. "It’s a device used by telepaths. It enhances our abilities helping us detect and locate other mutants. A handful of telepaths, like my mom, mutants far more powerful than me…" For a moment her voice trailed off as her own self doubt that had been nagging at the back of her mind tried to claw out. She cleared her throat, shoving it back to the farthest recesses, attempting to compose herself as she brushed damp hair behind her ears. "They uh, tried… Several times. But whatever they do to mutants after capturing them hides their unique brain signatures so we can’t see them."

Her leg bounced anxiously as the gravity of the situation grew heavier the closer the elevator numbers ticked toward her flow. It was one thing attempting to give a motivational speech or fight robots in a simulation, but now that something serious and real rested on her shoulders, the burden and expectations were suffocating. What if she couldn’t get it to work? What if she did see the Drake girl? What if she didn’t? Countless questions buzzed around her head like angry wasps, each chipping away at her resolve and confidence. "Why didn’t I think of it sooner?" She muttered the question under breath, unaware the words fell from her lips rather than remaining locked away.

The second the lift stopped and the bell chimed signaling they reached her floor, Imogen pushed off the wall and started toward the doors before they opened. The moment they began to part she slipped between them and disappeared deeper into her penthouse. Hurried feet carried her into her bedroom then farther still until she was inside her closet, pushing hanging clothes out of the way until a large metal briefcase came into view. She had hidden it away and honestly hadn’t expected to ever need it, but it seemed a lot of things weren’t going quite how she had imagined. Case and point Magni’s presence and… well, everything involving him and the last 24 hours.

Imogen emerged from her room in her diamond form, carrying the heavy, nearly suitcase sized case with ease, opting for speed rather than struggling with its cumbersome weight. She shifted back to normal after she set it down on her coffee table and sat down with crossed legs on the ground. Her thumbs flipped the latches before lifting the lid and opening the case. It looked almost like an oversized, archaic laptop with a small screen, several buttons, and a helmet-like device cradled in the bottom half. She quickly tied back her damp hair into a low ponytail at the base of her skull then hesitantly reached her hands out toward the helmet. Her hands trembled as she choked back the lump that formed in her throat. There was only a handful of times she ever used cerebro. It also hurt and she only managed to get it to work once. The tip of her tongue ran along her bottom lip, finding herself suddenly parched and struggling to bridge the final gap. She made quick work of flipped switches and pressing buttons, booting up the machine and getting it ready. With one final breath for bravery, she picked up the strange apparatus and shoved it on her head before she could talk herself out of it.

Her eyes snapped shut, hands pressing to the sides of her head as she nearly doubled over. Like a blade to the frontal lobe, Cerebro dug into her brain and electrified the psionic tendrils of her telepathy, strengthening and enhancing it as it burst from her like an intangible wave that reverberated around the world. As Imogen dove deeper, the small screen in the case displayed what played across her mind. What used to be an interconnected web of countless lights like a firework across her mind now was an expansive void. All that remained was a handful of dim stars on the edge of burning out. The brightest epicenters were at Krakoa and Genosha. There were a couple other sporadic faint lights but mostly nothing.

She gritted her teeth, focusing in on New England and the handful of lights scattered about it. The tower’s location was dim with only two sparks. She drifted to Xavier’s school finding two similar little stars, but as her mind closed in the signatures had a familiar air to them. A second or two longer Imogen might have been able to figure out who they were, but knowing that she had never met the Drake girl, there was no way she would be recognizable. Her chest heaved with every heavy breath as a migraine had started building up with a relentless pounding behind her eyes. She wanted to pull away and disconnect, and nearly did when she caught a fuzzy dot in between Xavier’s school and the academy.

Her hands fell to grip the edges of the coffee table as she pushed in further until she slipped into the girl's mind. Heavy pants were masked beneath the roar of thunder. The rain was ice cold on her skin and her legs ached as she ran through a thicket of trees. Imogen whimpered from the pain, desperately trying to focus through the throbbing waves that pulsated through her head. She was losing her hold, struggling to separate the girl’s sensations with her thoughts. There was a fraction of a second where she saw a crack and broke through just long enough to get the name Bellamy Drake.

"It’s her!" Imogen’s voice was weak and strained as her eyes snapped open but the relief, although faint, was still palpable. She quickly pressed a button inside of the case, freezing the image of the map and the girl’s current coordinates. A trickle of blood dripped from her nose and trailed over her lips while her trembling hands struggled to pull the apparatus off of her head.

Magni had remained right at Imogen’s side the second she put the helmet on, a hand reassuringly gripped on her shoulder. He was unfamiliar with the technology or what precisely she was doing, but he knew enough about magics and power to know that she was fighting with and against powers he could not comprehend. He also knew that trying to enhance an ability beyond its natural means was always a dangerous road. He held Imogen tight as she fought through the noise, until she finally got what she needed. He didn’t bother looking at the image on the case, instinctively reaching towards the helmet as Imogen tried to pull it off. He was careful as he lifted it up, trying not to cause her any further pain. When it was off and placed on the coffee table next to her, he held her face in his hands and wiped the blood from her nose with his thumb.

Tobias hovered off to the side, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watched in a stoic silence. He had never witnessed someone use Cerebro to know if Imogen’s reaction was normal or not, but watching her tense from some kind of pain or discomfort that he couldn’t begin to comprehend made him grow more concerned with every passing second. The more time ticked onwards, the closer he got to pulling her out. While he had an unrelenting and nagging need to try and solve this, even if he didn’t know why, it wasn’t worth risking the safety of one of the few of them that was left.

But then her voice broke through her pained gasps. He was so stunned that his plan actually worked that it took a second for him to step into action. Tobias’s hand dipped into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and frantically typed in the coordinates. Once the numbers were in and the map matched the one on Cerebro’s screen he was already hurrying back toward the elevator.

"Wait!" Imogen croaked. She tried to push off the coffee table and get to her feet, but her strength was drained and her body gave before she was a few inches off the ground. "You can’t go alone..." It wasn’t safe for any of them to be traveling alone, as if June and Myla weren’t testament enough to that. She would have argued and fought to go with him, but her body wouldn’t cooperate and in that moment, she realized her place wasn’t out there, but back in Cerebro… guiding Tobias to the girl. Which only left…

Reluctantly Imogen looked up at Magni as he held her face in his hands, then her heart immediately sank and twisted into a dreadful knot in her stomach. The thought of him walking out the door and maybe never coming back filled her with enough dread that a cold chill ran down her spine and nearly made her wretch. She couldn’t bring herself to hold his gaze, let alone ask… She didn’t need to be a telepath to know the same thought was crossing his mind. It was selfish but she didn’t want him to go. Imogen wasn’t strong or powerful enough. If Magni was taken, how the hell was she supposed to save him?

Magni nodded, his hand reaching out as Mjolnir rose to meet his grasp. "I will join thee." His tone was certain, the hammer crackling with a slight surge of power. His expression was grave. "Imogen is right. It would be dangerous if our adversaries caught thee without reinforcements."

Imogen rested her elbow on the table as her head sank until it leaned against her palm. She felt nauseous. She didn’t know if it was from Cerebro or the thought of Magni going headfirst into danger. Probably both. She hated that she let herself get hooked on him so quickly. He was a God. He was the last person she should be concerned about, yet he was the last person she wanted to put in harm's way. It was stupid. This was bigger than all of them. It wasn’t the place for her to be selfish… She could chastise herself about her ridiculous emotions later.

Tobias stopped dead in his tracks, finger hovering near the elevator button as he looked back over at them. Imogen hadn’t been in Cerebro for more than fifteen minutes and she looked like death. And Magni? He needed to be at her side, not risking his life to fill Tobias’s reckless need to prove himself. "You can’t," he contradicted in a quiet yet firm voice before meeting his friend's serious gaze.

"Tobias…" Imogen’s voice was weak but pleading. They couldn’t lose anyone else, not an omega level mutant, not one of the few heroes that remained… not a friend.

"I am quite capable—"

"There’s no one else I’d rather have fighting at my side," Tobias took a step toward them while doing his best to try and be reassuring. "But… They don’t want me. They went out of their way not to kill or apprehend me. I’m the only person who can go."

Imogen clenched her jaw, weighing all of their options only to come up empty handed. He was right, even if she hated it. Traveling alone was dangerous enough as it was, but running straight into danger was a whole new level of crazy. Mustering what bit of strength she had left, she pushed off the table and got to her feet. She used Magni for support as her first few steps were wobbly. But once she was stable, Imogen walked back to her room and grabbed her phone. As she returned to the living room, she pointed at Tobias. "You call me and you stay on the phone no matter what. Or we’re coming after you."

Magni towered over the two of them, his face contorted in a grimace as he weighed the argument. Neither of them were in a position to stop him should he truly wish to go, and he wanted nothing more than glorious combat… nothing except the comfort of his friends. He let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head and folding his arms. "I find this course of action inadvisable, but I will not stop thee." He crossed the gap with Tobias in only a few steps, placing a tight grip on his friend’s shoulders. "If thou needst reinforcements, I will be there."

Tobias nodded in silent gratitude. While he still stood under the God’s hold, he pulled out his phone and thumbed through his contacts until he found Imogen’s name. Not a second later her phone rang out on the other side of the living room and she answered without a word. "You’ll be with me the whole time." He gave Magni’s hand a reassuring pat before slipping out from under his grasp and disappearing into the elevator.

With slow, unsteady steps, Imogen crossed the room to where Magni stood by the closed elevator doors. She held out her phone to him with a weak smile. "Think you can man the phone?" In truth, all he had to do was hold it and not break it. She figured it was a safe bet that Magni didn’t have a clue how to actually use a cellphone, but they didn’t have the time for her to teach him at the moment. She’d save that lesson for when she had the time to actually get him one. It was on her to-do list, but right now what was most important was staying in contact with Tobias and guiding him to the Drake girl.

Imogen placed her phone gently into Magni’s palm and let her fingers linger on his wrist as she spoke. "I have to go back in and guide him." She nodded her head toward the Cerebro case that was still open on her coffee table. Her voice was strained but there was a resolute strength beneath her exhaustion. It was one of the few ways she could help. She had to do it… No matter how much it hurt.

Magni tilted his gaze back towards the phone, and then back up to Imogen. He held it gingerly, noting its small frame and seemingly high pliability in his grasp. His chest rumbled with the starting breath of objection, but he did not muster up any words. Whatever that vile contraption was, it seemed to work towards their ends and Imogen was the only one who could make it function. He shook his head, holding the phone aloft. "I… am unfamiliar with how to use this… thing."

A tired, but affectionate smile graced Imogen’s lips as she placed a reassuring hand against his wrist. "It’s already connected to Tobias."

"Can you hear me?" Tobias asked. The sound of the elevator dinging echoed through the call and filled the quiet space of the penthouse, telling them that he had reached the garage.

"We can hear you," Imogen responded, leaning in slightly toward the phone in Magni’s hand. Her thumb lightly stroked the soft skin on the inside of his wrist as her gaze lifted to meet his. "I just need you to keep it close to me so I can talk to Tobias once I go back in," she added with a subtle nod toward Cerebro. Her jaw tensed slightly from the exhaustion that already ached her muscles as she shifted to the tips of her toes. She gently tugged Magni down to her level so she could give him a tender kiss. "Please?"

Magni nodded softly, a small frown on his lips. As much as he hated to see Imogen suffer more while plugged in, he hated the thought of missing glorious combat more. The greater insult than these was to hold a metal rectangle that allowed distant communication while he watched the people he cared for rush into danger. While he softened with the kiss, the tension remained in his shoulders. He spoke clearly into the box, "Make haste, and may thy journey be fruitful."

Imogen was too tired to turn off her mind, although there was a part of her that wished she had. She couldn't blame Magni for being upset when he got benched. Tobias's logic was sound and she knew it was never easy for a hero to stay out of a fight. But there was a part of her that had hoped he would have wanted to stay behind to support her, not run off into battle. That made her feel—No. She wasn't going to do that to herself when someone else's life was in the balance. The Drake girl was more important than her conflicted feelings and Magni's ego.

There was a fleeting moment where she contemplated taking back her phone and figuring it out herself… but she didn't. She gave his wrist one last gentle squeeze, like nothing was wrong before releasing her hold and turning back toward that damn machine. Her legs were a bit weak and wobbly, like the over exertion zapped whatever energy she had. But with a slow determination she made her way back to the coffee table and lowered herself back down to sit on the ground. She closed her eyes and took one, two… three deep breaths, preparing for the dive. Then before she could regret going in a second time, Imogen switched on the machine and put back on the helmet.

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... june, myla & jim ............... collabs ....|.... @webboysurf}

Camp Athens - Closed

^{#0bbdaf ....|..... outfit .....|..... #04ed42 ....|..... outfit .....|..... tappi's cabin > arena}

Tapeesa would have slept until noon, considering her hike up the mountain and how late it was when she finally dozed off. She was never someone who struggled too much with sleeping, but the warmth of Nate’s body and the softness of the couch lulled her off into the deepest slumber she’d had in awhile. By the time morning rolled around, their legs were loosely entangled while her arms were tucked between their chests, and her head rested in the crook of his neck.

A strange chiming melody rang out in the silence of her cabin, cutting through the quiet peace of sleep and waking her with a small start. "Good morning campers," a deep voice echoed throughout the room coming from some unseen speaker like the voice of God or a terrible alarm.

It took more energy than Tappi had to force her eyes open after being ripped out of her pleasant dream. Something about a boy with red hair, kissing, and fireworks. She would have been content getting lost in it for a few more hours rather than whatever horrible racket was blaring from her TV. She must have fallen asleep with it on… again. With squinted eyes and an annoyed expression, she started to roll over, hand reaching out to search for the remote that must have been hidden amongst her blankets and pillows. Her weight shifted from her side to rest on her back but there was no bed there to catch her.

Tapeesa’s eyes snapped open, the realization that she wasn’t in her studio apartment and it wasn’t a dream collided into her as she tipped over the edge of the couch. She gasped, surprised and weightless for a fraction of a second before she hit the ground with a thud.

Nate was startled awake by the sudden noise, startled from his rest with a familiar feeling. He was somewhere he didn't immediately recognize. In the past few years, he barely remembered what his own bed felt like. Nate had, once again, woken up in another person's bed. No… a quick feel of his surroundings made it clear it was a couch. His head felt a little foggy, must have had a few drinks the night before.

By the time Nate peeked over the edge of the couch with blurred vision, the puzzle of his prior night became clear. A warm smile graced his lips as he swung his legs over the couch to sit up, extending a hand down towards Tapeesa. "That's one way to wake up." He shook his head slightly, recalling some faint memory of a booming voice in some weird dream he was having. "You hurt?" The question was earnest enough as he wiggled the fingers of the hand he offered to help her up.

Tappi let out an exhausted groan as she accepted her fate on the floor. She brought her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes trying to push past her exhaustion and force herself awake. Hearing shifting on the couch beside her, she peeked between parted fingers in time to see Nate looking down at her, red hair, brown eyes, and somehow even more disarmingly attractive in the daylight. So, it wasn’t a dream. It only took one look at his smile for her cheeks to flush and her own grin to curve beneath her palms, visible through the subtle squint of her eyes. Her hands slowly ran down her face until just the tips of her fingers rested against her chin.

"I’m—" she started to answer but was cut off by the same ominous voice that woke them in the first place.

"This is your new leader, River, speaking. It is currently 7:30 a.m. on January 1st. Your first training will begin in one hour at 8:30 a.m. in the arena. Please arrive promptly and dress accordingly."

She propped herself up on her elbows, looking around her small cabin like she was trying to find the source of the voice or whatever speaker it came from. Tapeesa sighed softly then looked back up at Nate and his extended hand. She swallowed, hesitating for a second before slipping her fingers into his upturned palm. The touch was innocent and gentle, but immediately flooded her mind with the reality of everything that happened: dancing, smoking… kissing. Her breath hitched as her chest tightened and pulse quickened. Gods, was there ever going to be a time when she wasn’t nervous around him? She cleared her throat, trying to pull herself out of her own mental fog, then used his hand and support to pull herself to her feet.

Tapeesa’s fingers lingered in his grasp as she slowly lowered herself back down on the couch beside him. They were shoulder to shoulder, with their knees lightly brushing, mirroring how they sat in the late hours of the night, almost slipping into a strange but comfortable deja vu. "I’m fine," she finally answered as she looked over at him with a sheepish smile. "Just embarrassed," she added with a soft laugh. There was a moment where she contemplated apologizing for him spending the night on her couch, even if she was glad Nate stayed. But it wasn’t like she forced him and he wasn’t running for the door… Not yet anyway. There were a million questions bouncing around her head but she didn’t voice any of them, choosing to enjoy whatever fleeting moments remained rather than ruining it with her own overthinking.

Nate held Tappi's hand in his, happy for the slight warmth of the connection as he let out a yawn. He would have liked to sleep in a little later, especially since he hadn't volunteered for any training. He hadn't signed up to be a counselor, he was here to get his mojo back and do a bit of sightseeing. He didn't mind his current detour, gingerly slipping his fingers between hers. "I'm supposed to be the clumsy one," Nate joked, his cheeky grin evident as he met her gaze. "And clearly this couch isn't big enough for the both of us."

Tappi’s gaze fell to their hands as his fingers slowly slipped between hers effortlessly, like that was where they belonged, comfortable and at ease. She felt a warmth build in her chest and bloom along her neck and up to her cheeks. A soft chuckle slipped out at his comment as she mirrored his smile with her own. "Alright, cowboy," she teased him, poking fun at his corny joke. Her head slowly turned, glancing back over her shoulder between them to look at the couch. "We seemed to fit just fine last night," she added, barely above a whisper. Her gaze met his for a fleeting moment, cheeks reddening, before she quickly looked down at their entangled fingers and cleared her throat.

Once his own amused chuckle subsided, Nate turned his gaze towards the cabin at large. He eyed his duffel bag against the wall. He would need to get freshened up and ready, and probably scrounge up something to eat. But, a larger matter hung over him that his humor couldn't quite purge. "Last night was… really nice." His tone was sincere, but it was clear he was at a loss for words. He wouldn't mind picking up where they had left off before exhaustion overwhelmed them, but this was a surprisingly new sensation. When was the last time he had stayed the night? Had he ever slept over after a night of dancing and drinking? His foggy thoughts certainly could not recall such a time.

Right here and now, though, it didn't feel wrong. He didn't exactly have anywhere else to go, but he also felt peace in this witch's cabin in a compound in the woods. It almost felt like home here, but that notion was more distressing than reassuring. Nate shrugged his shoulders, more at the thought than at his own words. "I… would enjoy doing that again."

His words somehow managed to calm Tapeesa’s nerves while also igniting a new wave all at the same time. She shifted their entwined hands into her lap, gently pulling him a fraction closer and anchoring him in place. Her intention was to kiss him on the cheek, but as she leaned in, filling the space between them, there was a subconscious gravity that redirected her until her lips met his. Every kiss they had shared up until that moment Nate had initiated, but hearing his own gentle reassurances set into motion something she couldn’t quite control, a desire to reciprocate his thoughts in a way words couldn’t. It wasn’t passionate or needy, but soft and tender. She didn’t know if one night of making out gave her the freedom to steal a kiss whenever she wanted, but it felt right… and it was already too late.

She lingered in his warmth for a second or two, before slowly pulling away and creating a small sliver of space between them. Tapeesa opened her eyes to meet his gaze with a bashful smile. "I agree…" she whispered back in response.

Nate couldn't help but share a dumb smile at her words and actions. His bottom lip slipped beneath his front teeth as he briefly considered going in for more. He knew that was a slippery slope that would make them late to whatever event they needed to attend. He always preferred being fashionably late, but it wasn't his place to tempt Tapeesa down that path. The last thing he wanted was to make a bad impression for her sake.

It took more effort than she thought possible to force herself to her feet. The couch had grown to be their own safe little bubble and it felt like prying herself from the cushions would somehow sever whatever had grown in their brief time together. Even as Tappi stood before him, her knees remained lightly pressed against his while their fingers were still laced together. Her gaze drifted over to where Nate’s bag rested near her front door. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized he hadn’t even made it to his cabin yet. Did he even have one? With less than an hour before training, it wasn’t like there was really time. "You can make yourself at home." She looked down at him with a genuine smile that brightened her face and curved into her dimples. Her offer was innocent, wanting Nate to feel comfortable enough to get ready for training, but there was also a faint bit of selfishness in trying to prolong their time together. "I can make us coffee," Tapeesa added, pointing at the coffee pot she noticed in her kitchenette. She didn’t know if there was coffee, but she recalled seeing beans in her greenhouse if there was nothing in the cabinets.

"Coffee would be great." The dull thrum in his head wasn’t nearly as bad as it usually was the morning after a party. Usually it was more like a pressure behind his eyes and a general fog in his thoughts that came from alcohol, drugs, and a long night. The warmth of their fleeting contact cut through any fog he had, filling that space with a calm that was unfamiliar. His eyes briefly turned towards the bag in the corner again, his tongue running across his bottom teeth in disdain as he recognized a need to get ready. "Do you mind if I borrow your shower?" He paused, furrowing his brows as he recalled small moments from the night before. Tapeesa seemed just as new to this place as he was. "Do you have a shower?"

"Sure—" Tapeesa started to answer, but his second question made her pause. She pursed her lips together, looking around the cozy, but small, living area of her cabin. The only door led back outside, so if there was a bathroom, it wasn’t downstairs. "There has to be one, right?" She rubbed the back of her neck with her free hand as she looked back down at Nate with a lopsided smile. "Let me get that coffee started. Then I’m sure I can find it." Her gaze fell to their entangled hands where she lightly tapped her thumb against his before reluctantly slipping her fingers free and creating the most space that had been between them in hours.

She made her way over to the small kitchenette tucked under the backside of the stairs. It didn’t look like Tapeesa would be able to make much with only a microwave and a hot plate but she honestly hadn’t mastered the art of cooking. Her diet before camp consisted of a lot of sandwiches and salads. It took a minute or two of searching the various cabinets to find two coffee mugs, filters, and—ah ha!—coffee. She filled the water reservoir, put a filter in the pot, added a scoop of coffee to the filter, and then turned it on. "Alright, coffee," she mused to herself.

Tappi made her way around the back of the couch, lightly tickling the back of Nate’s neck with a single stroke of her finger as she passed by. "Let’s find you that shower." She wasn’t entirely sure why she touched him. It was like there was some kind of subconscious gravity that moved her hand absent thought, seeking to bridge the space between them. It was innocent and harmless, but her cheeks still flushed from the brief contact as she made her way over to where she had discarded her belongings the night before. She scooped up her bag, winter coat, and anything else of hers that was lying around, then made her way over to the small stone tower with a spiral staircase.

She made her up the stairs, stopping to peek out the small windows on her way up. When Tapeesa reached the top, the cylindrical tower opened up into a loft-like space. Immediately in front of her was a window seat and to her right was an open door to a quaint bathroom. It matched the aesthetic of the rest of her cottage-like cabin with a rustic charm, stone tiles, and a clawfoot bathtub. "Found it!" She called over her shoulder, voice echoing down the stairwell and back to Nate.

Tapeesa then slowly turned around to face the rest of the room. Her jaw dropped and an audible gasp slipped from her lips. The bedroom might have been small and nothing special by other people’s standards, but to her it looked like something out of a fairytale. The ceiling was pitched with, what looked like, handpainted floral murals between decorative slats of wood. In the center of the far wall was a large circle window that acted almost like a headboard and looked out on a thicket of snow covered trees. After setting down her bag and other belongings on the ground, leaning them up against the wall, she scurried over to the bed. She flopped back against the mattress, legs draped over the edge as she looked up at the ceiling with a content hum. It was nothing like her small, cramped, studio apartment back in Iqaluit, in the best possible way.

She didn’t really know what to expect from camp, but all-in-all, her first 24 hours were shaping up to be far better than she could have imagined. Tappi had been expecting a Greek military bootcamp, not… whatever this was. Although training was likely to change her opinions, she could still try to enjoy the peace while it lasted.

Nate had followed Tapeesa upstairs, albeit slowly to avoid his wandering eyes from focusing on her gait up the steps. He had plucked his bag and coat from the ground, hoisting them over his shoulder as he made his way upstairs. The “cabin” felt surreal and unorthodox in its design, like he had stumbled into some fantasy novel he only watched the film version of for class. As he stood at the top of the stairs and he eyed the standalone bathtub, he shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a bath instead of a shower… maybe in middle school when he got a knee full of gravel while playing near a pothole. He remembered having to soak in the bathtub so loose pieces of asphalt would dislodge from the scrap and float up. It was soothing, probably because he couldn’t feel the pain and hadn’t noticed the wound for an hour or so.

He turned his gaze away when his mind envisioned Tapeesa in the tub, soapy suds obscuring anything he hadn’t already seen. He gingerly stepped towards the rest of the loft, nodding softly as he admired the craftsmanship. He didn’t know much of the woman, but it did feel distinctly “weird” by his more modern sensibilities. She seemed comfortable and pleased with her accommodations, and that brought a grin to his face. He crossed the room, hovering next to Tapeesa at the edge of the bedding. His breath caught in his throat as he fought back his impulses, searching instead for words. "More importantly… we found you a bed. Hopefully you won’t fall out of this too." His smirk was goading as his knee brushed against hers. He looked back in the direction of the bathroom. "Did you want to bathe first? I can… crap, what’s the phrase… draw you a bath?"

Tapeesa’s smile grew as she felt the subtle touch of his leg against hers. She propped herself up on her elbows, letting her gaze shift from the elaborately painted ceiling over to Nate’s dark brown eyes as he stood before her. "That was your fault," she teased him back in response, lightly bumping her foot against the side of his leg. "It is significantly larger than the couch." She glanced back over her shoulder toward the rest of the bed, noting how it was even larger than her bed in her apartment. There was a brief moment where her mind drifted toward their night spent together, specifically the parts where Nate was on top of her, but the image shifted from the couch to her bed and—

She cleared her throat, trying to push away the thoughts as her cheeks turned bright red. Luckily Nate’s question pulled her out of her overactive imagination. His offer to draw her a bath made Tapeesa snort out a laugh. She clapped her hand over her mouth to try and refrain from snorting a second time and muffled her quiet giggles. "I don’t think an hour is enough time for us both to… bathe," she replied, playfully emphasizing her words to tease him. "I believe there’s a shower." But now she was second guessing it. She leaned to the side, peeking around Nate’s side to try, and catch a glimpse in the bathroom, but she was too far away to know for sure.

Tappi pushed off the bed and got to her feet. She hadn’t really considered how close Nate was until she was standing face to face with him. The last time they stood that close was when they were in the greenhouse. It was almost like deja vu the way her chest faintly brushed against his and how her hands gently grabbed his arm to steady herself in the small tentative space she stood so that she didn’t teeter back onto the bed. She swallowed, trying to keep her breaths steady even if she couldn’t hide the flush of her cheeks or the nervous way she averted her gaze. "I can check," she whispered into the small expanse between them, hesitantly looking up at him.

Nate's heart thumped and his cheeks flushed with Tapeesa's own words and flustered looks. He had been good, restraining himself from letting their interaction this morning be another flurry of entwined limbs and lips. But as Tapeesa brushed up against them, their bodies gently pressed against each other, that restraint melted. He was not greedy, his free hand softly holding her head in place as he leaned in for a kiss. It wasn't long, only a few seconds that ticked far slower than usual. When it was done, he kept his eyes closed and his face near hers as his soft apology lingered. "Sorry…"

While Tapeesa wasn't expecting him to kiss her, it'd be a lie if she said she didn't want it. Since the night before it seemed like whenever they weren't kissing, the thought was always lingering at the back of her mind. Her heart skipped a beat when he held her head but she quickly settled into an elated calmness when his lips met hers. She sat in the moment for as long as he kept her there. When he pulled away the corners of her mouth immediately tugged into a bright smile that seemed a permanent fixture in Nate's presence.

"Don't apologize," she whispered, gently squeezing his upper arms where her hands still held onto him. "Just know," Tapeesa added as she looked up at him. "If you keep kissing me I'll start thinking you're mine." There was a temporary pause before the reality of what she said sunk in. Her eyes went wide as she immediately started panic rambling. "Which is crazy because we just met and I don't know your last name and you don't know my favorite color and guys don't like girls who catch feelings quickly and—" She sucked in a sharp breath having forgotten to breathe through her word vomit. "And I was supposed to be checking if I have a shower."

Tapeesa nervously slipped from the place she stood, trapped between Nate and her bed. Her heart thrummed so hard in her chest her body trembled with every breath. She carried herself across the room like the more space between them would erase everything she said. They both agreed that they liked honesty but she needed to know when to stop talking. Words like those were saved for… Well later or never. If she had learned anything from her past, sharing her feelings usually just scared the people she liked away. But it was too late and her foot was firmly planted in her mouth. She anxiously brushed loose hair from her face, accidentally knocking the lucky cigarette from where she had forgotten it was nestled behind her ear. "Oh no!" she gasped. Her hands frantically shot out, fumbling and flailing, before finally catching it in her palms like it was made of glass.

Nate stood motionless for a moment, his eyes widening slightly from shock. While the entire morning had been unusual, Tapeesa's confession was a jolt to his system that left his brain fried. She didn't know what she was getting herself into, that much was obvious. He had taken her first kiss, she was clearly just emotionally overwhelmed. But she did mean it. She was honest like he was. She wanted something more, something exclusive. He took a breath, processing her panicked backtracking. Her word salad was endearing, and would have warranted another kiss if her playful threat didn't hang over the air between them.

He didn't watch as she scurried back in the direction of the bathroom. His grip on his bag tightened as he let out a long exhale. Tapeesa's outcry turned his attention to her flailing arms and the cigarette she was trying to catch. Before he could stop himself, a hearty giggle burst from his chest as he shook his head. It was almost comical, the type of thing you usually saw in cartoons. It took a moment for his laugh to die down. He followed after her, keeping a little distance between them. His tone was soft and reassuring, with an amused undercurrent. "Banes. My last name is Banes."

Tapeesa stopped outside the bathroom, still cupping the cigarette gingerly between her palms like one false move could break it into a million pieces. She looked over at him, face still beat red but a hint of smile returned seeing that Nate wasn’t sprinting for the door, but lingered and even offered up his last name. She laughed awkwardly, finding it a little harder to hold his gaze as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. The space he kept between them didn’t go unnoticed but she tried her best not to focus on it but on the fact that he was still there. "Mine’s Nanuq," she offered up in exchange with a small shrug.

She leaned forward, dipping her head through the doorway of the bathroom, noting the showerhead attached to the wall overlooking the clawfoot tub and the oval metal ring that held the shower curtain, open and ready. Tappi inhaled sharply as she took a step to the side, trying her best not to put them both in another precarious situation by lingering in the narrow doorway. She motioned into the bathroom. "I was right… Should have made a bet so you’d owe me a favor," she teased softly, trying to ease her own tensions and find her way back to the comfortable symbiosis they were in before.

"You can go first." Tapeesa nodded her head toward the open doorway as she took another step backwards. "I wouldn’t want to steal all the hot water and I imagine I have a better tolerance for cold than you… Not that I know where you’re from." Her face scrunched and head tilted slightly to the side as she felt the nervous rambling fight to explode out again. "I need to stop talking," she grumbled to herself. She pivoted on her heels and started making her way back toward the other side of the room. Halfway there she stopped momentarily, glancing back at him over her shoulder while she absentmindedly spun the cigarette between the tips of her fingers. "It’s yellow, by the way… My favorite color." She spoke so softly that it was barely more than a whisper lost in the wind.

Tapeesa clicked her tongue and nodded her head. "Right. Shutting up now." She wandered over to her dresser and carefully discarded the cigarette into a small jewelry dish for safe keeping. Then she grabbed her bag, carried it over to her bed, and started unpacking what little bit of belongings she did have while desperately trying to keep herself from overthinking.

A steadfast smirk was a glowing testament to how amused Nate was by Tapeesa's fumbled words. He was usually better at pissing people off than he was leaving them dumbstruck, and he did not mind the change in circumstances. It would be easier to chalk up her feelings to naivety than to genuine connection, but a nagging feeling in his stomach refused to discount it. Maybe it had something to do with that small churn in his core as she kept her distance. Or maybe he was just really, really hungry.

He approached the bathroom, standing in the doorway as he looked in and got a better view at the accommodations. He hadn't noticed the shower attachment to the freestanding tub earlier, wincing a little at his own stupid suggestion earlier. Nate tossed his bag and coat inside the bathroom, calling over his shoulder. "I'll try not to take too long, it would be rude to hog all of the hot water." He chuckled a little, before stepping into the bathroom and beginning to undo his belt. He paused for a moment as his foot rested against the bottom of the door to kick it closed, a few words Tapeesa said clinging to the back of his mind that demanded a retort. "Also, don't assume what I don't like. Maybe I don't mind people who fall quick." He swiftly kicked the door closed behind him to cut the discussion from progressing further.

Tappi slowly and methodically pulled each piece of clothing out of her bag one at a time and stacked them into neat piles on her bed. While her movements were calculated, her ears were tuned to the soft rustlings of Nate getting situated in the bathroom, waiting to hear the telltale sign of the door latching so she could let out the tense breath she had been holding in. His first comment made the tiniest of smiles resurface but it was quickly replaced with dumbfounded shock and a strangled gasp. Impulsively her head snapped to look back over her shoulder at him only to be met with the bathroom door closing, letting his words and their implications hang in the air.

He tossed his dirty clothes in a heap on the tile as he undressed. He looked himself over in the mirror over the sink, his eyes trailing down his muscles and errant scars. He couldn't even remember how he got half of them, but he knew Tapeesa would ask about each one when she saw them. if she saw them. He wasn't sticking around. He'd play along for a bit, get his luck back, and then skip town. It would be nice if she joined, but she was bought in on whatever this delusion was. But it wasn't a delusion. He looked at his ankle, no signs of damage or pain from the day before. She had healed it. She had magic. His luck was real, not just superstition. Was the way he never seemed to feel pain part of this whole mess too? His little offerings of cigarettes and names, was that… oh god.

Nate focused on getting the shower on and grabbing a bar of soap and a towel from his bag before he could unpack just how much his world had shifted in an evening. He didn't need to think about cute Inuit girls, or curses, or the fact that there might be an actual afterlife. Did they have a heaven or a hell? No, he needed to focus. He turned the faucet to full heat, stepping in to feel something to shock the system. While he didn't feel like his skin was burning off, the change in temperature was enough of a shock to the system to let him focus on cleaning the dirt and grime from the days’ travels. The shower at his last hostel was busted when he tried to use it, so he was pleased this one seemed to work. Within a few minutes, he was already drying himself off and scrounging for some deodorant and fresh clothes. He decided on a simple white tank top and black sweatpants, slipping into those quickly and grabbing a hoodie before opening up the bathroom door again. "It's all yours."

While Tapeesa had been trying, fruitlessly, to do anything but overthink, like putting her clothes away in the dresser, Nate's words sent her mind reeling so fast it almost made her dizzy. It was stupid. She was being stupid. She had most definitely had crushes before but nothing like this. They were all one sided and never got even remotely close to kissing. Not that a kiss had to mean something… Well… a lot of kisses. And he stayed the night… And there was the thing with his last name, and that comment and—"Oh my god, stop," she chastised herself, tossing the last piece of clothing haphazardly into the drawer before burying her face in her palms.

She forced herself to take a couple deep breaths and attempted to ground herself. When Tapeesa got her panicked mind back down to just overthinking, she sighed and pulled out one of the few outfits she had that felt suitable enough for training. After closing the drawer, she sat at the foot of her bed and slowly began unbraiding her hair. Just as she had started running her fingers through her hair to try to free some of the knots, Nate's voice pulled her out of her trance. She looked across the room at him with a timid smile. "Ok." She left behind her hoodie, socks and sneakers, but scooped up the rest of her clothes and toiletry bag. It wasn't until she was halfway to the bathroom that she noticed she was still wearing her boots. With all the grace of a newborn foal, she teetered and hopped as she wiggled out of her shoes and kicked them aside.

Tappi walked past him as she approached the door. The scent of Nate's shampoo and soap still hung in the air mixed with the warm steam that radiated out of the bathroom. Her gaze slowly drifted over to in the brief moment they were nearly shoulder to shoulder, catching the faint hint of his cologne or deodorant or maybe it was just him. "You smell nice," she commented softly with that familiar glint in her eye before she disappeared into the room and closed the door.

She lightly set down the pile of fresh folded clothes on top of the toilet lid, then started unpacking her toiletries. After she finished setting the last item in its new home on the sink, Tapeesa caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. It wasn't the tiredness in her eyes or the redness of her cheeks that got her attention but a foreign dark mark nestled in the crook of her neck. She wiped the steam from the mirror and leaned in closer, running the tips of her fingers gingerly over the bruise. Her mind replayed the night's events until it lingered on a moment when Nate had her pinned down against the couch cushions. His lips had started on hers then trailed their way along her jaw and down her neck to that spot… It didn't hurt. She distinctly remembered an entirely different sensation, the warmth, and an unfamiliar sound that fell from her lips.

Tapeesa's mind was dangerously close to wandering too far when she snapped herself out of it. But it wasn't soon enough to avoid the way her pulse elevated and the strange tension that knotted in her stomach. It didn't matter if there was hot water or not, she turned the taps to cold and stepped in before she could think better of it. The extreme temperature was enough to startle her awake and clear her mind… or numb it if nothing else. Considering how unbearably cold it was, she wasted no time washing up and allowed herself a few moments of warm water before getting out. She started the painstaking process of ringing out as much water from her long hair as possible then pulled on her yoga pants and sports bra.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Tapeesa didn't know what she expected to see but whatever it was, it wasn't her empty bedroom. It made sense that it might have been weird if Nate waited on her bed or on the window seat right outside the bathroom, but her heart still sank nevertheless when she didn't see him there. Her bare feet hurried across the room with a little more haste than necessary. She scooped up her coat, hoodie, shoes, socks, and hair brush, then made her way towards the stairs. Then with a new wave of nervousness at the thought that he might not be waiting downstairs either. Tappi took each step slowly until she was able to peek around the edge of the wall and find the familiar head of red hair. She sighed, relieved, taking the rest of the stairs far more calmly and significantly less like a spaz.

"I have a confession," she spoke up as she made her way over to the couch, setting down the various things she carried onto the coffee table before taking a seat. "I thought I might have scared you away," Tappi admitted with a lopsided smile and a weak, slightly self deprecating laugh.

Nate looked a little too comfortable on the couch, hands behind his head and legs outstretched as she approached. His eyes met hers for a moment before she focused on setting up her stuff. His stomach churned a little at such a simple sight. "I… wouldn't know where else to go." It wasn't the most reassuring answer, but it was as honest as he could be. He wasn't exactly keen on leaving such comfortable accommodations until he had to. Though, that didn't necessarily mean that he was right at home. "I don't scare easily, though. This all makes me a little nervous, sure, but I'm not gonna skip out on you that quick."

"You’re nervous?" Tapeesa asked. Her damp hair fell from over her shoulder as she turned her head to look over at Nate. If she had to put a finger on it, he might have acted a little nervous last night, but if he had been that morning, he fooled her. There was just something about the way he carried himself, confident and surefooted, that she assumed nervousness was the last thing on his mind. Maybe it was her? No, that couldn’t be it. That’s ridiculous. "Well," she lightly patted her knees with her hands, "We can’t both be nervous all the time. That just sounds like a mess. So I nominate you to be the calm one." Her smile brightened as she lightly bumped his leg that stretched behind her across the couch with her elbow.

Nate scoffed with a wide smile, rolling his eyes. "We can take turns. I get mornings."

As she met his gaze, the faint red light of the coffeepot caught Tappi’s attention out of the corner of her eyes. "Shoot, the coffee!" She hopped up and zipped around the couch toward the kitchenette. There were already the two mugs she had sitting out on the counter, ready and waiting, but she forgot to dig out anything else they might need. It wasn’t hard to find the milk, but it took a little more searching to figure out where the sugar was hiding, but by happy accident, while looking she stumbled upon a box of blueberry poptarts. She pulled out two packs and set them aside before grabbing the sugar. She poured them both a large cup, added a little bit of sugar and a splash of milk.

Tapeesa tucked the foil wrapped poptarts under her arm, lightly pinned against her ribs, then leaned over and picked up the mugs. It wasn’t until she approached the back of the couch and glanced down at the coffee that she realized she never asked him how he liked his coffee. She just made both cups like muscle memory. Her face scrunched up and flushed as she held out one of the mugs toward him. "I’m sorry. I didn’t think to ask how you liked it." Once her hand was free, she slipped one of the packs of poptarts out from under her arm and held it out to him. "Peace offering?" She wiggled the foil wrapped pastry in the air while flashing a playful and slightly embarrassed smile.

After she got him to take the poptarts, Tapeesa made her way back around to the front of the couch. She set aside her own drink and breakfast on the side table, before nonchalantly and carefully lifting up Nate’s legs that stretched the length of the sofa. She then slipped down onto the seat, crossed her legs beneath her, and gently rested his feet back down on her lap, completely unbothered. Tappi didn’t want to make him move when he looked so comfortable and it didn’t bother her… And maybe there was a small, subconscious part of her that was seeking a fraction of physical contact, no matter what form it came in. Her right hand reached behind her head, dragging the tip of her fingers across the back of her neck to gather up all her hair and move it out of the way so she could sink back against the cushions. She then grabbed her coffee and took a long drink with a content hum.

That buzzing feeling in his gut intensified by how… normal Tapeesa was acting. It was like they had lived together for years, despite having just met. She was a nervous wreck only moments earlier as they were getting ready, and now she seemed perfectly happy with the domestic scene. He didn't want to object, but history implied this wouldn't last. With his luck, she'd be done with him in a few days. The thought made his coffee seem more bitter on his tongue than it should have been, but he seemed otherwise comfortable and pleased with the breakfast as he stared at the ceiling. Looking at his temporary roommate would only drive reality through the otherwise dreamy haze of the early morning.

Tappi was comfortable in the silence. She watched large snowflakes fall outside the window and rest along its frame as she sipped her coffee and took an occasional bite of her pastry. The serenity of the moment was a balm for her nerves, grounding her in the reality of everything that had unfolded around her in a handful of hours. There was a selfish part of her that wanted to prolong what time remained and greedily grasp to the fleeting minutes that were slipping away. She knew that the moment she stepped outside it’d all shift to a memory and break the illusion. Kissing didn’t always mean something to others. People frequently partake in physical intimacy simply for the sensations… She didn’t. But she wasn’t naive either. Her gaze flicked over to Nate for no more than a second, studying his face as he looked at the ceiling. He was honest. He said as much and she believed him. He obviously liked kissing her, even said she was his favorite kiss… But she couldn’t even begin to piece it all together and figure out what it meant.

She finished the rest of her coffee and breakfast without saying a word while her thoughts drifted and festered. After her final sip, Tapeesa leaned forward making sure not to knock Nate’s feet off her lap as she discarded the empty mug and foil wrapper on her coffee table. "So, where are you from?" She asked, breaking the silence as she leaned back in her seat. She raised her right hand and ran the tip of her finger down the center of her scalp, parting her hair. After twisting one side and tucking it out of the way, she started French braiding the other side effortlessly as she continued. "I’m from Iqaluit, Nunavut. It’s like really far north in Canada. Almost to Greenland," she added with a weak chuckle and a shrug.

Nate tossed the foil remnants of his poptarts on the coffee table as he finished the last bite, squinting as he tried to place where exactly Tapeesa was from. He couldn't say he had a clear memory of what Canada looked like or how close it got to Greenland, so he just shrugged his shoulders. He would have to look it up later. He sipped from his cup before answering. "Vegas. Sin City." He finished the contents of his drink, the small craving for a hit of nicotine budding at the back of his mouth. Smoke reminded him of home. "This is the farthest from there I've been. Hell, it's my first time on a plane or out of the country."

Tapeesa took a small elastic and tied it around the end of the finished braid, then proceeded to start the second. She wasn’t entirely sure why Vegas made sense. It wasn’t like she had ever been there, but something unspoken about Nate gave her the feeling that he’d fit into a city like that with ease… Even though all she really knew about it came from movies. "Same," she replied softly as her fingers continued to twist and knot her damp hair. "I’ve always wanted to travel. It wasn’t really an option in the orphanage. I aged out a little over a year ago, but I barely made enough money for my studio apartment." She shrugged her shoulders, not particularly bothered by it, having accepted her life just… was the way it was. The most she could do was make the best of it, which she often tried. Eventually it got her here, so it couldn’t be all bad.

She tied off her second braid, sparing a glance over her shoulder toward the clock. They had ten minutes until training started. Tappi sighed and her smile faded. The last thing she wanted to do was leave her cabin, but time wouldn’t stop because she willed it. She gently moved Nate’s feet off her lap with a quiet, "Sorry." Then scooted forward to the edge of the couch so she could start putting on her socks and shoes. After lacing up her sneakers, she pushed off her knees and stood up. The tips of her fingers slipped beneath the elastic band of her sports bra, adjusting how it rested in a subconscious way to delay the inevitable. "I’m running out of distractions," she whispered the confession. She hesitated for another second or two, then leaned down and grabbed her hoodie.

Nate took Tapeesa’s movement as a sign to quickly slide back on his own sneakers, not bothering to retie the knot. When she rose, he followed a moment after. He grabbed his hoodie, which had been slung over the back of the couch, and quickly slid it on. Tapeesa’s words confused him for a moment, before the dawning realization crept up on him. He offered a grin as he closed the gap between them, placing his hand on her side as he stood behind her. He lowered his head so it was right next to hers, his whisper tickling the hairs on her ear. "I can think of a couple…." He leaned his head back and stood up straight, removing the hand from her side. "But I would hate to make you late to… whatever it is we are doing."

Tapeesa had slipped her arms into each sleeve of her hoodie and had the fabric bunched in her palms ready to pull it over her head when she felt Nate’s hand on her side. Her breaths grew sporadic and heavy, caught off guard by the sudden and unexpected touch. His calloused fingers were warm as they brushed against the exposed skin of her waist. She swallowed as she turned her head to look back at him. Her face was flushed as she held his gaze, part of it was flustered nerves but there was a small forbidden desire that wanted him too. She cleared her throat and finally pulled her hoodie over her head as an escape to hide for a second and try to compose herself. "You are a bad influence, Nater-tot," she goaded him with a playful poke to his chest.

After pulling her braids out from beneath her sweatshirt, Tapeesa grabbed her parka and pulled it on with a soft sigh. She zipped it up slowly as she made her way over to the front door. Her hand hesitated on the handle before finally turning it and breaking the seal on their isolated bubble. She grimaced as the cold breeze hit her like a wave, shocking any remaining exhaustion or rose tint from her mind. She took a single step forward into the doorway, then froze.

In that brief moment of hesitation she contemplated kissing him one last time, like stepping outside would break the illusion that had been lingering around them since the night before. She wanted to… but since her comment up in her room, there was an added gravity that lingered behind every touch and prospect of another kiss. She should have kept her mouth shut. The meaning behind her words were no less serious or true whether or not she shared them, but she spoke them into existence. There was a nagging feeling in her gut that those playful yet serious words were the final nail in the coffin on their night and everything shared was going to be buried and forgotten. She turned slightly towards Nate, feeling the temptation and uncertainty building in her as she looked up into his eyes. In that second there were several things that crossed her mind but only one that she wanted to do, but instead she just smiled up at him, bright and genuine with her prominent dimples and a faint nervous air. "Back to the real world," she commented quietly.

Nate balked a little at the cold, slipping his hands into his hoodie pockets to feel for some gloves he had left there. While he didn’t feel the same sharp pin-pricks in his skin most did, the overwhelming shift in temperature was enough to send shivers down his spine. Thoughts of flirting had melted with the wind, his thoughts instead turned to how he just wanted to stay indoors to avoid the weather. He wasn’t sure that would work out for him in the end, and he wasn’t going to let Tapeesa face whatever was coming her way alone. He put on his gloves and followed Tappi, his quivering voice full of his usual mirth. "I don’t know if a camp counts as the real world."

"More real than making out on a couch," Tapeesa mused as she stepped out from under the awning. She carefully followed the stepstone path, making sure to only place her feet on the rocks and avoid submerging her sneakers in a deep pile of snow. In that kind of weather she would have preferred to be wearing her mukluks, but they weren’t the most practical for working out or training or whatever she was about to be getting herself into. Thankfully the main path was covered in a light dusting of white so her socks were safe from getting soaked two steps outside her cabin.

A bitter wind whipped through the trees as Tapeesa turned toward the arena, leading them between the row of cabins and what looked like some type of smith or armory. She pulled the large hood from her parka up onto her head, hoping to block her still damp hair from the familiar but frigid cold. She could hear her mom’s sweet, but nagging voice in her head, "Dry your braids by the fire’s light or winter will claim them in the night." A silly little rhyme she was almost certain her mom made up, but maybe that was the reason it stuck with her for all those years. A decade apart and Tappi can still hear her mom’s voice as clear as if she was standing right in front of her. Of course, she only remembered it after she forgot to heed the advice, but she tried. For extra measure, she tucked the tails of her braids beneath the collar of her coat like her mother’s spirit floated on the breeze, chastising her lovingly.

It didn’t take them more than a couple minutes to reach the arena considering how close Tapeesa’s cabin was. They entered through the north facing side, emerging out from under a stone archway that cut through the stands. Her pace slowed, noticing the immediate shift in temperature similar to when she arrived at camp the night before. She started unzipping and removing her parka as she looked around at the fairly large crowd of unfamiliar faces. There was a second when her gaze found Elias. A knot immediately twisted in her stomach as his words came flooding to the forefront of her mind. There was a part of her that wanted to talk to him and make sure he got his things, but a bigger, more embarrassed part was still hurt and didn’t know how to act around him anymore. When Tappi noticed she was staring her gaze fell to her feet bashfully. Without looking up and silent, she found her way to the nearest bench and took a seat.

Nate felt awkward shuffling after Tapeesa and into the stadium, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. He had hoped, despite Andy’s insistence, that the more soothing temperatures would persist. Hell, he had falsely assumed that Greece would be far more temperate in the colder months. As soon as he crossed that boundary into the arena, and he felt the warmth melt away that uncomfortable cold, he sighed in relief. He quickly began removing his gloves, sliding them back into his hoodie pocket as he glanced about those gathered. His eyes naturally followed Tapeesa’s stare, offering Elias little more than a scowl as he gingerly lifted a hand to squeeze his host’s shoulder as she turned to take a seat. He remained rooted for a moment, his body electrified with that overwhelming desire to “make a scene.” It was only a brief glance back at Tapeesa’s dejected form that let the impulse die. He followed her, shoving his hands into his pockets as he sat down next to her. He tapped the tip of his sneaker against her foot, offering her a warm smile. "Ready for orientation?"

Tapeesa’s hands rested on top of her parka that was laying across her lap. She hadn’t really noticed she was picking at that one pesky hang nail until Nate filled her peripheries and sat down beside her. She let out a quiet, distracted hum when his foot gently nudged hers, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. She sucked in a soft breath, straightening slightly before looking over at him. His warmth was a kind distraction that helped melt away some of her nerves and bring back a fraction of her own light.

"I don’t know what kind of orientations you’ve been to," Tappi mused quietly as her attention slowly shifted to the obstacle course that was splayed out in the center of the arena. A concerned grimace tugged at the corner of her lips as she tried to envision herself attempting any of the obstacles. The only images that played through her mind were the various ways she’d end up injured or make a fool of herself by the end. It wasn’t until that moment that she wondered if she was in over her head coming to camp. She had the physical prowess of a house cat, but it was too late to turn back now. The best she could do was wish for it to be over quickly… And painlessly.

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... elias ............... collabs ....|.... @webboysurf}

Reign of the Usurper

H O U S E . V A R R O W

^{— . lords of gloomfen . —}

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H O L D . gloomfen

S I G I L . willow with a raven

C O L O R S . black & green

W O R D S . "we hold the dark"

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L O R D . D A E M R I C . & . L A D Y . A E N O R A L O R D . F C . lee pace . L A D Y . F C . charlize theron H E X C O D E . #5f815f . H E X C O D E . #cbb2ab House Varrow is an old house that can trace its lineage back to when the Ninefold was first founded. But while they were an ancient powerful house, they were not the Lords of Gloomfen, but merely the masters and caretakers of the King’s Gate. While they were loyal to their ruling Lords, the Varrows held a secret vendetta against the Coliviers for they were a younger house with less prestige, yet they somehow secured the lordship. This feud carried for centuries until opportunity presented itself at the hands of the usurper. Daemric was the first noble to pledge fealty to Rowan, allying with him in his war and giving him access to the King’s Gate. Once the war was won, King Rowan made the Varrows the new lords of Gloomfen and named Daemric as his High Steward for it was his strategic mind that was pivotal, urging him to accept the alliance with the Phorians which turned the tides of the war and brought them victory. Since stepping into his lordship, Daemric has gotten a real taste for power, his reach extending further more greedily. With his children as integral pawns, his attention now turns toward the throne, biding his time like a predator in wait.

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L O R D . R H A E V Y N A G E . 34 . G E N D E R . male . S E X U A L I T Y . pansexual H E X C O D E . #455955 . F C . matt smith • . callous . • . calculated . • . deceptive . • . opportunistic . • . vindictive . • The eldest child and only son, Rhaevyn was raised with the Varrow legacy resting on his shoulders. Gloomfen is a harsh and unforgiving land that molds people of a similar breed, and he is no exception to that. Growing up in his father's shadow, he has a keen diplomatic and military mind, but unlike his father he swears no allegiances to anyone other than his family. Anything and everything he does is for House Varrow, or specifically his sister. Rhaevyn lacks a bit of his father's subtlety and nuance. Where his father is a chisel, he is a hammer. He knows how to put on a mask when needed, but he can only play pretend for so long before cracks begin to form and the truth slips out. While he may be a wolf in sheep's clothing, it is difficult for him to talk without showing his fangs.

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L A D Y . A E L Y R I A A G E . 30 . G E N D E R . female . S E X U A L I T Y . pansexual H E X C O D E . #6f5062 . F C . emilia clarke • . ambitious . • . possessive . • . guile . • . exploitative . • . callous . • Aelyria, youngest scion of House Varrow, learned early that survival in Gloomfen was equal parts blade and performance. Where her brother’s mask cracks beneath the weight of truth, hers settles seamlessly into place, soft as silk, sharp as concealed iron. She is the smile that never trembles, the voice that lilts just right, the presence that draws eyes without ever revealing what lies beneath. Every move she makes, every lie she breathes, is for her blood. For the brother who shoulders the legacy, and for the family she would set the world alight to protect. Aelyria is the quiet storm beside Rhaevyn’s thunder, patient, deliberate, and far more dangerous than she appears. She's mastered the art of becoming whatever the moment demands… and hiding the cost behind a flawless, glimmering mask.

NPCs tbd

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Reign of the Usurper

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^{N O T A B L E . T H O R N V A L E . L O C A T I O N S}

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V A L L E Y . O F . K I N G S The capital of Thornvale is the largest city in the hold and one of the few settlements scattered throughout the harsh mountains. It is nestled in the large valley at the heart of Mount Briar at the end of the Bramble Weave. A majority of the hold’s citizens resided within this city or on the small bit of farmland that surrounds it, scaling the low ends of the mountain. On the far side of the city, built out of the side of the mountain and overlooking the valley, is the Black Citadel and home of the King. This location has proved to be the most defensible location in all of Aethoria and the optimal seat for the King due to its natural fortifications and limited entry points. ...........................................................................................	.	M O U N T . B R I A R Mount Briar is the largest and most treacherous mountain range in Aethoria. It covers a majority of Thornvale leaving most of the land wild and untamed. The hold got its name from these mountains which stretch up into the sky like sharp snow covered thorns. Most of these peaks are said to be so steep that it is nearly impossible to scale except by the most skilled climbers. A majority of this range is uninhabited aside from the native wildlife and the rare homestead. ...........................................................................................	.	B R A M B L E . W E A V E The Bramble Weave is the main waterway that cuts through the sharp peaks of Mount Briar. This river was named for the way it is woven throughout the mountain range, carving one of the few paths of safe travel through the harsh terrain. It is a deep and fairly wide river that connects the Valley of Kings to the Bay of Kings and is often the major route for visitors, travelers, and trade in and out of the valley. While most of the subsequent offshoots of the river have different names, they are often called ‘Threads of the Weave.’ ...........................................................................................
T H E . K I N G ' S . F I S T The only other entry point into the Valley of Kings besides the Bramble Weave is a land bridge that connects Gloomfen to Thornvale called The King’s Fist. While a majority of the Fist is easily traversible, the point of contention is where the land bridge funnels into the mouth of Mount Briar. Anyone seeking to reach the valley by land must follow the single path that cuts through the mountain and its entrance is a heavily guarded choke point. While most of the hold is left wild and unmanned, the Fist is the most heavily guarded fortress in all of Thornvale, stopping most attacks and insurrections before they start. ...........................................................................................	.	K I N G ' S . G A T E On the opposite side of The King’s Fist, resting on the border of Thornvale and Gloomfen is the King’s Gate. This is more of a fortification or extensive barracks rather than a proper city. Similar to how the Fist is the only way by land into the Valley of Kings, the Gate is the only way into the Fist from the marshlands. This garrison is manned by guards from both Thornvale and Gloomfen and is governed by the High Steward in defense of the King. All who wish to travel to the valley by land must pass through the King’s Gate and the King’s Fist alike, making it a treacherous path for any who oppose the crown. ...........................................................................................	.	T H E . V I S E The Vise is the narrow water channel that connects the Bay of Kings to the South Sea. It is the singular water entry point that eventually leads into the valley. It got its name for the way the land curves around the bay and pinches the channel like a vise or pincer. This narrow thoroughway also acts as the sea equivalent of The King’s Fist. ...........................................................................................
E A S T . & . W E S T . W A T C H On either side of The Vise are two garrisons that man the channel and monitor all sea travel in and out of the Bay of Kings. These settlements are built out of the side of the rocky cliffside that overlooks the channel. They are named East or West Watch, respectively, for whichever side of The Vise they reside on but both garrisons are identical in most ways. There is no easy way to travel between the Watches as the only thing connecting them are the large iron chains used to halt ships that attempt to pass without permission. If anyone wishes to visit the other Watch, they must cross the channel by boat or take the long and arduous journey around the bay by land. There are boats specifically for the Watchers for this exact purpose… Or ravens. ...........................................................................................	.	B A Y . O F . K I N G S The Bay of Kings is the major water source and home to the only port for Thornvale that rests at the mouth of the Bramble Weave. It is a large landlocked body of water that could be easily mistaken for a lake if it wasn’t for the channel that passes through The Vise connecting the bay to the South Sea. All travelers that arrive by sea enter Thornvale through The Vise and into the Bay of Kings. Most trade that comes into the hold comes by ship through the bay, so water travel is quite frequent and it is common for most visitors to arrive by boat as well. ...........................................................................................	.	T H E . K N O T Situated at the mouth of the Bramble Weave and on the edge of the Bay of Kings is the large harbor city called The Knot. This is the only other major settlement in Thornvale aside from the Valley of Kings and houses the major ports for the hold. Nearly all trade comes in and out of The Knot. Most merchants rarely travel deeper into the Vale, often trading off their goods to local merchants who then make the journey up the Bramble Weave to the valley. Otherwise, most people who come into the Bay only visit The Knot, so it sees a lot more foreigners or travelers from other holds compared to the Valley of Kings. ...........................................................................................
T H E . B L A C K . R O S E While the Valley of Kings is home to many brothels, there is only one of note that is spoken of amongst the wealthy, King’s Guard, and even some of the nobles. Most citizens of the city know of Madame Lyssa and The Black Rose. It is the most reputable brothel in all of the valley, garnering only the most extravagant of visitors. Commonly called The Rose by those who frequent it, this house of ill repute is almost always teaming with off duty guards. If you can’t find them in the barracks, it’s a safe bet you’ll find them beneath silk sheets and distracted with fairer company at The Rose. ...........................................................................................	.	T H E . R A V E N ' S . N E S T Similar to brothels, there are dozens of taverns throughout the valley. And while it isn’t uncommon to find people frequenting other locations, The Raven’s Nest is the most popular and often at max capacity most evenings. It rests on the edge of the river where the Bramble Weave opens up to the valley making it the first tavern travelers come across upon entering the valley via water. At some point it had a different name, but due to how often the King’s Guard, or Ravens of the Citadel, spend their time there, its name was changed decades ago to reflect that. The Nest is also the finest tavern in the city and often used to house servants and guards of visiting nobles who are not given quarters within the citadel. ...........................................................................................	.	...........................................................................................

Reign of the Usurper - low fantasy political intrigue (GOT inspired)

R E I G N . O F . T H E . U S U R P E R

^{Amidst a royal summons, the noble houses of Aethoria scheme and seduce to secure their legacy—or seize control of the realm. The Black Citadel has become a gilded cage where love is a weapon and deception is the fastest path to the throne.}

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TWO AVAILABLE ROLES - Two houses / holds have reopened, Harrowfield & Salt Spire.

Reign of the Usurper is a RP set in a low fantasy world heavily inspired by Game of Thrones. This RP follows the major houses of the Ninefold of Aethoria as they stay in the Black Citadel with the royals from the summer to winter solstices in an attempt to secure a marriage with one of the royal children and elevate their family. Once all the houses are together under the same roof schemes and intrigue ensue.

• This RP is heavily character driven. Every character and household has their own motivation from sustaining a strong alliance with the royals, elevating their family, spying, assassination, etc. If you can think it, then it's possible.
• Each writer controls a house which are the Lords over one of the holds of Aethoria. The "main characters" are the children but the parents could be as PC to NPC as you choose.
• Seeking active (not passive or only reactive) writers who will progress the scene and/or RP
• Advanced RP, literate writers, quality over quantity (with the expectation of at least a couple substantial paragraphs per post)
• Moderate posting speed of a minimum of one post a month.
• Strict no ghosting policy, so if you have a habit of disappearing this isn't the RP for you.
• For any questions, ideas, brainstorming, or applications feel free to DM @Mjolnir

Descendants

^{#cb6b06 ....|..... #d13b00 ....|..... ghost rider ....|..... outfit .....|..... his penthouse}

While James wasn’t the type of guy who was particularly bashful, being in a room full of relative strangers in a pair of shorts that weren’t his was not the best recipe for comfort. On top of being butt ass naked in front of the… whatever this fucking group was, he just destroyed one of the few outfits he had to his name—well the spirit did.

It wasn’t my idea to burn down the fucking church, the voice rumbled its disagreement in the back of James’s skull.

Now that they were out of the simulation, Judge was restless like he needed to stretch his legs just to make sure he could. It took more control than James had the energy for. He wasn’t able to go five minutes without adjusting in his seat or trying to keep his steaming in check. The only thing that kept him glued to his seat was his attempt at being respectful and observing the other simulations, and the vague curiosity at seeing what else the others were capable of.

After him and Jules it was Imogen and Luke who were up next. James figured Lieutenant douche bag could probably hold his own in a fight… unfortunately. He would have enjoyed watching Luke get his ass kicked, but what he lacked in tack he seemed to make up for in physical… whatever. Imogen, on the other hand, proved to be a bit surprising. She had told them all that she had a diamond form, but he didn’t really know what that meant or what that made her capable of. She was strong, that much was sure, but before he could really see anything else Luke called out Watermelon and ended the training. James’s brows furrowed, confused at the man’s disregard. Out of everyone he expected Captain America Jr. to be the one person to take it seriously, but not only was he too good for everything else… He was also too good for training, apparently.

James didn’t hide his slight smirk as he intentionally watched Luke the entire time he walked from the simulation room back to his seat. He might think he’s Mr. Perfect, but so far he was the only person to tap out. While he imagined blondie would keep his mouth shut, there was a little part of him—and Judge—that wanted him to get smart, just so James could rub it in his face that at least he finished his training while being heavily handicapped, and Luke was just a bitch. But rather than seeking a fight, he settled for a shit eating, smug grin and judgemental side eye.

While he thought that Imogen and Lukes’s training was going to be the beginning and the end of people tapping out, James was quickly realizing that was just the tip of the iceberg and things were only going to continue going downhill from there. Myla and Jim seemed to be off to a decent enough start, but their communication was abysmal. It was hard for James to fully understand or follow because he didn’t have the slightest fucking clue what Jim was trying to do, but him calling his partner an ’idiot’ before ending their training definitely said whatever plan the guy had was fucked up by whatever Myla was doing. He didn’t blame her for being pissed, between being openly chastized, minimal communication, and bleeding… James couldn’t say he wouldn’t have been ticked too.

That only left one more training and while James didn’t like Ronnie for personal, and slightly jealous reasons… You know, that and the fact that she fed Coronel ass munch’s ego, he had expected it should have gone well enough. It was quickly apparent from their less than amiable banter that there was some history between Ronnie and Theo. Definitely something sexual. And, as if James needed more clarity on the matter, there was a kiss—promptly followed by a smack—then the final training ended abruptly with another tap out. He wasn’t keeping track but that had to be half of the simulations that didn’t make it to the end.

James stood up, preparing to leave when Myla came barreling past him, going straight for Ronnie. He barely managed to step out of the way before she started swinging. He watched in a stunned silence while backing away to make sure he didn’t get pulled into the fray. The last thing this ticking time bomb needed was an impromptu visit from the spirit.

Sounds like fun to me.

"Shut up," James muttered under his breath at the trigger happy spirit.

He waited and watched off to the side as whatever semblance of teamwork vanished. Shit was obviously going to hell in a hand basket when they were all grasping at straws to form some sort of team. This was like locking a bunch of feral cats in a room together to try and force them to get along. The only thing that would come from it was violence and blood shed. Perhaps he was a pessimist, but James was struggling to see how any of this would work. Hell, he was still trying to understand why the fuck he was there. He could just leave… Maybe he should. The thought had crossed his mind more than once. He felt like a stark outlier compared to everyone else. He had no skin in the matter, no personal connections with anyone there, and he definitely wasn’t fucking someone like over half of them seemed to be doing. The only thing that was keeping him there was a promise… Was that even worth it anymore?

Once the hot heads had parted their ways and disappeared up into the tower, he made his way over toward the elevator and stepped inside with his arms crossed over his bare chest. First he’d get himself a change of clothes from his penthouse and then…? He wasn’t entirely sure… But the temptation was growing. With a press of the button for the tenth floor the metal doors slid shut, closing him off from the others and carrying him up to his apartment.

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... just about everyone............... collabs ....|.... none}

Camp Athens - Closed

^{#0a6d6b ....|..... outfit .....|..... his cabin > arena}

The air in his cabin shifted with Evelyn gone. Sylas had three months to get used to the silence that came from his solitude while he healed. They had seen each other over the past months, but nothing like last night. Now that she had fallen back into bed with him, yet again, her absence felt more stark than it had before. During their time apart he had tried to pry himself free of her hold, but she plagued his thoughts and dreams, rooted deep into his cerebral cortex. All of it left him on unsteady footing. He usually found comfort in casual connections but somewhere in the middle of their game of cat and mouse, and interspersed spontaneous throes of passion, he started slipping deeper, only noticing once he was too far to claw himself out.

Sylas ran his hands down his face, resolute in the fact that it was unlikely he’d ever see her step foot into his cabin again. He sighed and wandered further inside. Considering he was already naked, he opted to go ahead and hop in the shower. He didn’t spend exceptionally long getting clean, rather giving himself more time under the hot water to clear his mind and ground his focus before whatever training this new leader had in store for them. While he might have been fully healed, since Pandora’s box Sylas hadn’t felt up to form, and the prospect of physical exertion left him wary, even if he could hardly admit that to himself, let alone anyone else.

As the water cascaded over the crown of his head, falling around his face like a waterfall veil, he held out his hands in front of him. The white scars across his palms acted like a phantom memory of that night. His gaze fell to the similar mark across his abdomen while the tips of his fingers began tracing it absentmindedly. The marble gladiator… a kraken… Just the thought made his lungs burn like he was struggling for air and every nerve sang with the residual electric tinge. He had it easy compared to a lot of the other campers, not that he cared. But there was a reluctance to try and prove himself among a group of new faces when he had been holed up in his cabin for months.

The shift in temperature of the water brought Sylas out of his wandering thoughts and dragged him out of the shower. After drying off and wrapping himself in a towel, he begrudgingly trudged back into his room in search of clean clothes. While there was still the burden of trying to be moderately impressive to the newcomers, he wasn’t going to sacrifice function for fashion in the face of training. It wasn’t like River had given them a clue what they were doing. But using his past experiences for reference, capture the flag, and duels were enough of a reason to focus on dressing a bit more practically. He grabbed a simple track suit and running shoes figuring that would cover most of his bases.

After getting dressed, Sylas made his way to the kitchen. He knew that he needed to eat. Working out on an empty stomach never bode well for him but he was also aware that he didn’t have much time either. Luckily eggs were simple and quick. He managed to whip up a couple breakfast burritos fairly quickly which also gave him the added convenience of being able to eat them on his way to the arena. With three wraps in hand and a bottle of water, he grabbed his coat and headed out.

It didn’t take long for Sylas to reach the arena considering how close his cabin was. He only managed to get through one of the burritos by the time he stepped inside and noticed the change in temperature. As he approached the stands, his gaze fell to the two remaining wraps in his hand. Somewhere in his rush to make food or in his hazy mind he hadn’t noticed he made more than he usually ate. And then the realization struck him as his attention shifted to Evelyn… He made an extra one for her. It was entirely subconscious and the dots didn’t connect until he saw her, but something inside him knew with her having to return to her own cabin that she wouldn’t have had time to eat. Jesus fucking christ. Even when he was trying not to think about her…

Without a word, Sylas walked past her and slyly set one of the burritos in her lap. Based on her reaction to him at midnight, it was a safe assumption that Evelyn preferred to keep their… familiarity secret, so he did his best not to draw any unneeded attention to them. While the thought still made him sore, he wasn’t an idiot nor cruel… Well, not to her. His gaze remained forward as he continued past her, finding an empty and isolated seat somewhere toward the back. He pulled off his coat, setting it aside, then continued to finish his breakfast in peace.

^{interactions ....|.... evelyn ............... mentions ....|.... river ............... collabs ....|.... none}

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^{#bd1664 ....|..... outfit .....|..... arena}

Andy had managed to drift off for a little bit. She wasn’t entirely sure how long, but she never slipped into a deep sleep. Instead she lived in a hazy limbo where she could hear the world moving around her while she remained frozen in place. There was a small window where she might have managed to drift deeper but something—or someone—tickling her leg jarred her awake. She propped herself up on one elbow, while winding back the other hand instinctually, preparing to smack whoever was bothering her. But when her eyes snapped open and found Mason standing over her, the tension in her body eased and she slumped back against the bench.

"You should know better than to sneak up on me," she teased him softly with a tired, yet affectionate smile.

"So," Mason started with a more serious tone that stole some of the levity from her smile. "Are you ever gonna let me sleep with you without any morning interruptions?"

"Yes, because it was my fault we were interrupted." Andy's face contorted as she pushed off the bench to sit upright. "I have a sign on my door that says ‘Please interrupt me and my boyfriend in bed,’" she replied with dry sarcasm, tilting her head to the side while looking up into his eyes for more explanation than he was giving. She understood that he was less than thrilled that she was pulled from bed and his arms, but acting like it was her decision or choice was a stretch.

Andy sighed softly, not wanting to argue after they just made up. She scooted forward on the bench so her knees were lightly pressed against the outside of his legs. Her hands rested against Mason’s sides as she held his gaze. "Peace is rare at camp. You know that. I can’t guarantee we won’t be interrupted in the future. But I’m not going anywhere, Mase," she reassured him quietly. Her hand shifted from his side to gently wrap around his forearm and give it a soft tug while nodding to the empty space beside her. "Sit down," she gently instructed him.

Once Mason was seated beside her, Andy scooted over until her shoulder and knee were lightly pressed against his. She crossed her legs so the foot that dangled freely could softly brush his shin while she slipped her arm beneath his. "I had every intention of spending all day in bed with you," she whispered the confession into his ear so no one else but him could hear. The tips of her fingers lightly trailed down his forearm and into his palm in a tender, almost sensual way. "Although, after training I will need a shower…" her voice trailed off as she slipped her fingers between his and flashed him a subtle, mischievous smile. She didn’t finish her thought, letting Mason’s mind wander in whatever devious direction it wanted as they waited for training to begin.

^{interactions ....|.... mason ............... mentions ....|.... none ............... collabs ....|.... none}