✦ meet me on the battlefield !!

[Vivika]

✦ ━ 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘
‎ ‎ ⊰ starring. cathan, ollie • notes. lil writing exercise; flipped pov (pt1)! ⊱‎

despite being outside the chateau and several steps down the worn stone path, his sword’s exasperated sigh still travelled.

if he was lucky, that particular sigh with all its unspoken syllables and strained notes only graced his ears less than a dozen times before sundown. but today? it’d reached a record high.

at this rate, he should just sign cathan up for an orchestra. his sword had enough breath in his lungs to play every woodwind instrument and all the percussions plus wave a conductor’s baton around. maybe cathan could play orchestra while running a marathon, but that would require juggling, since it was impossible to carry all those instruments…

“alright, alright i’m coming!” snorting, he swept the tulle petals into the curls of sun-kissed grass, their tips bejewelled with morning dew. the sim artisan’s attention to detail was exquisite, the rendering of light and dark, shadow and blend near perfection. “just cleaning up my mess!”

the problem with cathan was the poor guy could just never… let go. perhaps poor sim scores were not exactly flattering, but surely everyone had a bad day? it wasn’t like complaining and trudging around like a destructive, sleep-deprived mammoth would solve their predicament either. and voids, they hadn’t even had to redo that awful sim.

this right here?

an idyllic sanctuary of sols and daydew far from the ichor of the mutated lupines and brimstones of the previous sim. a scene spun from a fairytale legend sewn with the lacework of cedars and pines with a finishing flourish of birdsong. knowing cathan, though, he was probably pacing inside that chateau like a caged creature, cursing everything in sight.

[Vivika]

✦ ━ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒
‎ ‎ ⊰ starring. cathan, ollie • notes. flipped pov of this interaction <3 ⊱‎

he was wrong.

tucked within the caress the solarium, his sword seemed… lost. lost in a reverie as though the spell of the sim had seduced him with a lover’s kiss, distracting him from the curse of his thoughts. without the scowl blighting his angular jaw, the daylight painted his features with a soft watercolor brush, filling in the curve of his cheeks and taming the storm locked in those eyes.

for a moment, cathan wasn’t that destructive, sleep-deprived mammoth with a grudge against the sols, the seven seas and the souls above and beneath. he was at ease. relaxed and contemplative. gentle.

but moments were like promises━forever on the cusp of breaking.

“you seemed calmer for a second there.” he tossed a wink in cathan’s direction. “an improvement for a little thundercloud like yourself.”

with a sigh, he plopped down onto the cushion, the fabric rough against his limbs. the gleam of porcelain teacups and a teapot lush with jeweled moonflowers lifted a secret smile to his lips. the scientist had a sense of humor. getting the tea on their working partnership with a tea party.

clasping the handle, he poured cups of tea, the heat sending a tremble through his grasp. pale tea sloshed onto a deck of neatly stacked cards. a rather… thin set of cards.

“you realize this is a sim, right?” his sword’s scowl returned, a creature of bloodlust. “none of this is real. pouring me a cup of tea is a waste of time.”

he snorted. “you realize it couldn’t hurt to just, y’know, play along?” he indicated the tea set with a flourish. “amuse whatever-his-name-is who has sentenced us to our little tea party demise together?”

his sword’s teacup slid higher, concealing the twist of his lips. “satisfied?”

although his eyes still blazed with the intensity of cool flames, the small gesture was still a win.

“hey, i’ll take it. ‘least it hides your scowl.” the slits of cathan’s eyes narrowed farther, tugging a laugh from him as he chose a card and brought it to eye-level. “let’s see…”

what is your partner’s birth order?

horribly dull. no spice, no heist. “they could’ve asked something more interesting or at the very least given us… different drinks.” a drunken revel would surely incite interesting confessions from his sword. “mhm, maybe just as well. we’ll fly through this and have time to get real drinks after.”

another sigh, another point towards the record high.

“you’re the eldest.” he tossed the card down, kicking back in a relaxed sprawl. “your birth order. am i right?”

“close enough. i have an older brother and a younger sister.” he shrugged. “you’re the youngest? only child?”

close enough. an interesting choice of words, especially since cathan was unafraid to snap a surefire no. perhaps a runaway brother? but asking was sure to provoke a shuttering response, especially since cathan had asked a question of his own.

he called truce for the time. “just me at home.”

his sword's satisfied smile meant a quick flip of the next card: three things that make your partner happy.

“parties. food. music.”

“and annoying my dearest sword to death.” he poured himself a cup of tea, chuckling. “as for you, it's probably… when i shut up, when i go to sleep and when i leave you alone. sound ‘bout right?”

the sharp bark of cathan's laugh lifted his brows. and for the second time today, his features shifted to something softer. gentler. “i can't deny that.”

“thought so.” he tapped the last card, the smooth edge gliding against his skin, before he flipped it. he blinked, letting the smooth roll and tumble of the embossed words wash over him. “name something your partner fears.”

cathan’s features were carved in stone.

perhaps his sword wasn’t affected, but sols of poking holes in cathan’s defences had taught him enough. liquid blue eyes met his, a collision of storm and seas locked behind that single, leveled glare. a threat. a promise there’d be hell to pay if ollie chose his words wrong.

in that instant, cathan was the embodiment of the very soul who’d risen from the ranks, spitting blood and breaking bones. the first to rise to a challenge through clenched teeth and a muttered curse, unrelenting until conquest. he didn’t need a lie to cover the truth. the truth was already telling its own tale.

“honestly? i don’t think i’ve ever seen you afraid of anything.” he set the card down, positioning it in-front of his sword. “sure, you’re hopelessly paranoid and as stubborn as corked gin, but also ruthlessly brave,” he grinned, “hells, i hope you don’t start anytime soon.”

and even that stars-forsaken scientist could not deny it.

for darkness swept like a wind-blown sail around him. pinpricks of colors glimmered as though someone had poked holes through the sail and towed the fabric through different filters of colors, before the sail could no longer hold. tearing wide open.

a sea of grey swam to the surface, washing the sim’s four walls in a somber gloom. he groaned, stretching out his limbs one by one, before standing. “would you look at that! looks like i totally aced this game. i say we get some drinks. real drinks. what do you say?”

a small frown etched between his sword’s brows, lips tensed into a fine line.

ollie’s smile slipped. right, his sword needed time alone. that was normal. cathan had spent most of the day thoroughly exasperated with him after the failed sim, along with this one. his lips parted to concede, offer amends, an apology… for whatever sins he’d commited━

“where to?”

the world wavered like a shimmering mirage. his tongue seemed tied into knots, tangled between naming a place and filtering for traces of sarcasm or insincerity. he waited, maybe a beat longer than he should, because if he breathed perhaps those words would be retracted, snatched back with a hasty look.

but cathan’s gaze remained on his as steady as ever.

“well,” with a broad, unbridled grin, he bowed low, indicating the exit, “how ‘bout i formally introduce you to my favorite nightclub?”

[Vivika]

✦ ━ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄
‎ ‎ ⊰ starring. olivier, cathan • notes. part 2/2 of this scene <3 ⊱‎

bioluminescent paint flashed in the sea of darkness.

the bubble-lettered slogans blurred into a running stream as his world spun on a dizzying axis and the gravel beneath him seemed to liquify. he threw a blind punch at the shadows. the movement connected only thin air woven with the stench of rot and harsh chemicals. the loose wiring overhead hissed with laughter, their sparks burning the back of his neck.

hells, of all nights. the bite of abrasive brick cut into his cheek as his attacker pinned him against the alley walls. their movements flowed like an alpine river━clean, swift, precise. unusual for a streetfighter. he growled, thrashing against their iron grip, sending ripples through the puddle of sewage beneath him. his attacker fisted the back of his cloak, breath hot against his ear, unflinching.

he feigned defeat. it would be what any rich mercante kid did, what any clueless pigeon would do. better to be underestimated than suffer a switchblade through the spine. he waited for his attacker to pat him down, search his pockets, strip him of the nonexistence wealth he carried.

the search never came. instead, his attacker… hesitated?

he slammed his head back, right into his attacker’s nose. something clattered, his attacker’s mask smashed like broken pottery. his attacker jerked, a startle reflex than actual anticipation, bringing a slow grin to his lips. he twisted and landed a kick to their knee, sending them both tumbling into the gravel and sewage.

a breathless gasp parted his lips and he rolled, shutting his eyes as the sickly pallor of sewage splashed around him. he unclasped his sodden cloak and scrambled to stand, reaching for the hidden blade at his side. his attacker barrelled into him.

the force robbed the breath from his lungs. his grip loosened. the blade slipped from his grasp as if a pin to a magnet. he landed a kick to his attacker’s side, right between the ribs. a sharp grunt of pain, a small victory, but it only slowed his attacker. the metallic sheen of his blade flashed once in a glittering arc, before it cozied against his throat. clean, swift and precise. familiar.

his senses returned in slow, shaking breaths. the cold, slick sludge of sewer water, the crushing weight on top of him, the shiver of the blade against his windpipe. other details, too. the long, sodden swaths of azure silk shot through with gold thread, shimmering feathers of blue and green and gold, the faint whiff of mint and soap. he traced the silks pooling in the sewage higher and higher until they draped around a lean frame of taut muscle. a tattered headpiece of feathers and gaudy jewels crowned a head of dark, messy curls limned by faint bioluminescence, the skylines casting cutting shadows over his face. but the eyes, the manner he held himself and the costume…

he shouldn’t be laughing, he should reign it in. yet, he couldn’t banish the absurdity of it all in-time to hide the first blooms of laughter cutting through his delirium. underneath the faux silks and the feathers and the headpiece dripping with jewels was a familiar face. the last face he’d ever expected to see in such… extravagant flair.

“cathan?” he choked back another laugh. “hells, i should’ve- wait, are you dressed as a peacock?”

his sword’s eyes was a storm of blue fire.

“on second thought, perhaps i should drown you in this puddle.” cathan’s voice had the tenor of steel, the capital accent cutting with clean, enunciated precision. “serves you right for all the trouble━”

ollie only grinned at the warning press of the blade against his throat. “y’know, i gotta say i’m impressed. you followed me to the club and actually tried to go incognito with the costume. only thing is that you’re meant to… dress as some historical figure this time around. there’s a theme, but next time i can━”

the blade inched closer. “shut up, olivier. i’m not in the mood. talk, why did you leave the festivities?”

“the nightclub’s better.”

cathan scoffed. “so you deactivated your tracker, cut off comms, abandoned your weapons and breached curfew just to what? go to a different party?”

he raised his brows. “that’s what i said… in fewer words, yes. the official party was too dull. too structured, stuffy, stilted━you name it. if i have to accept another congratulations from some noble, i might have thrown up on the dance floor. a tragedy, don’t you think?”

his sword growled, a hiss sliding between his teeth and relinquished his hold. he tucked the blade away. his blade. “if i could best you in these alleys, how do you think you would’ve held up against a real gang?”

ollie shrugged and brushed himself off, wincing at the squelch of his boots. “splendid, actually. a gang would’ve stolen my few possessions and run off━”

“after stabbing you like a pigeon.” cathan’s features twisted into a scowl. “i should’ve hit you harder. might’ve have lost some teeth, but it would’ve knocked some good sense loose.”

“quite the shipment of sunshine, aren’t ya?” he groaned, bracing the alley walls for balance. his sword only eyed him. charmingly unhelpful, but perhaps a touch confused as well. he chuckled. “you know… like a beam of sunshine? ray of sunshine? except those things don’t suit you, since you’re not exactly delicate. feels like i got steamrolled by a ship.”

“your metaphors need some work.” he cast a look skywards. “come on. you can walk, can’t you?”

“and your bedside manner needs work.” ollie snorted, shaking out his limbs one by one. “best be careful, cathan. i might decide to jump you in an alley one of these nights. you never know.”

under the bone-white sheen of moonlight, the first of a thin smile lifted cathan’s lips. so slight, so subtle, but striking. it transformed the hard angles and lines of his face into something softer, something more amiable. gentler. the liquid fire in his sword’s eyes seemed to settle if only for a moment.

and perhaps, beneath the storm of his scowl, there was something else. something more than the powder keg of cold apathy and restrained violence. something more beneath all that bravado and that sharp, cutting tongue. if there was, he’d unravel it, piece by piece, layer by layer, day by day. but first, he had to teach this shipment of sunshine a lesson.