#tales of graces f
Title: A Side Effect of Friendship
Rating:G
Pairing/Character: Lambda, Sophie
Spoilers: Post-game, so…
Words:~2,500
Summary: Sophie and Lambda have some unfinished business at the tree that’s a few hundred years late.
A/N: This is all entirely the fault of this image:
Because of how new Lambda’s name looks in comparison to everyone else’s.
He remembers this path. It’s more overgrown now than it was many years ago, and he is no longer a bodyless being inhabiting the local Lord, but he remembers. They’d walked up here before, sometime after their stint with Fodra, albeit it was mostly The Fool, his Fool boyfriend and her—his sister. He hadn’t considered himself part of it at the time. Why would he have? It hadn’t involved him, and it was before The Fool’s silly proposal to adopt him.Now though, he’s being led back to that tree. Or rather, he’s being dragged there. He only came along because it’ll be dark in an hour or so and he doubts Sophie will want to miss crablette night at the manor. Yeah, that’s totally why he accepted her offer to go to the tree with her.
He finally tears his gaze up from the ground, his lips tugged down into a frown as he surveys their current location. They’re almost to the hill, the one that Sophie’s taken to using as her garden these days. The smaller girl is still there in front of him, her hair swaying as she walks. She’s started experimenting more with her hair in recent years, having worn it down for so long and only occasionally wearing it in her familiar pigtails. The experimenting was mostly brought on by the current Lord’s twin daughters who apparently decided today was a braided ponytail day. It’s observations like this that remind him he made the right choice in having the Amarcian make his hair short.
“We’re almost there!” he hears from farther in front of him than before, and he grunts in a rudimentary reply before picking up his own pace. When in the Hell she had gotten that far ahead of him, he will never know.
It occurs to him, then, that he’d forgotten to ask a vital question before they left—why were they going to Lhant Hill? He’d assumed his sister needed help with something that she was either too weak or too short to handle (though her small stature was fact, her being weak was not, as their monthly sparring matches prove to everyone). He should’ve grown suspicious when she’d failed to invite the Lhant children as she often did.
“Sophie,” he calls as he closes the distance a bit more between them, noticing they’re almost at the top of the hill, “what, pray tell, are we doing here exactly? This is unusual, even for you.”
Sophie doesn’t pause at all in her step, but she does turn a bit to look back at him with a face so innocent that he almost feels like vomiting into the nearest bush.
“Isn’t it obvious? To make a friendship pact!” She replies as they reach the crest of the hill, her eyes upturned from the strength of her smile.
The statement perplexes him, his eyebrows furrowing as he follows her out into the field of flowers, just barely watching where he’s stepping to avoid her precious sopherias.
The surge of eleth gathered here hits him like a wall he has to pass through, and he inhales before continuing to follow Sophie, his sister having stopped to do the same. As disgustingly colorful as this place is with all the flowers living here, he has to begrudgingly admit that there is a certain calm here that he’s never found anywhere else.
“Why?” he finally thinks to ask as they approach the old, weathered tree, its bark a dull brownish-gold and its leaves a dark green. “This tree was already used by them and you. Is it not the tradition to use clean trees?”
Not to mention, do they really need one? Their friendship was pretty much sealed and sworn the day that Fool decided to adopt him and coaxed their growing sibling bond into existence. This would just be redundant, wouldn’t it? He frowns curiously at her back, waiting to be enlightened as to the purpose of this visit.
She doesn’t answer him immediately, instead stepping closer to the tree and placing her hands over the worn names of their adoptive fathers. Her fingertips trace the outline of each letter of their names as if trying to memorize them. He hears her inhale a bit shakily before she finally answers, “It was something they wanted to do after we renewed ours. Richard proposed it and Asbel thought it’d be a good idea but wanted to wait until you were able to write your name yourself. He knew it wouldn’t happen for a long while, so he said we’d do it later, when you wanted to and were able to…” she trails off, her hands lowering back to her sides.
He doesn’t remember having heard any of this and figures it must’ve happened while he was sleeping. He breathes a hum to show he’s listening.
“But then…Richard got ill, and he wouldn’t get better. And then he died and part of Asbel did too…remember?” she looks back over her shoulder at him, her eyes shining just a little from having to recall these memories.
That, of course, is something he remembers quite clearly. It had been decades since they settled things with Fodra, and the children of their friends had all grown and were starting to have their own families when Richard’s health began to fail. It wasn’t poison, but the doctors had said they suspected it was a result of his compromised immune system due to a childhood full of poisoning attempts. Everyone had expected that old pervert to go first, but even at almost eighty he was still as lively as when he was forty.
He remembers Cheria, Hubert, and Sophie trying to heal the monarch, but whatever disease he’d contracted had already taken hold of him. The helplessness and frustration permeating their shared world at the time was so acute he had sworn he could almost feel it himself. In the end, Richard became the first of their friends to perish. Sophie had been distraught of course, they all had, but he keenly remembers something within Asbel changing the day Richard died. It was like a light had gone out on his side of the inner world. Cheria had helped him where she could, but he supposes losing the person he spent so much time trying to save and had devoted his life to protecting took its own unique toll on their father.
He nods quickly in answer to his sister’s question, having almost forgotten to do so. Her attention turns back to the tree and their carved names.
“After that, Asbel never brought it up again. I don’t think he forgot. I think his grief was clouding him too much. And then everyone else left…and then so did he. In the end we still didn’t add you to our friendship pact like we’d agreed upon,” she continues, lifting an arm to wipe at her eyes, no doubt shedding full tears now despite her back being to him.
He shuffles a little awkwardly where he stands. Consoling his sister when she gets like this is still something he’s not good at—and will probably never be good at—but if there’s one thing he’s learned in the decades of being the only ones left, it’s that his presence seems to at least have some kind of positive effect. So he simply remains where he’s planted, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his pants for lack of anything better to do.
When it seems her emotions have calmed he finally deems it safe enough to speak,
“I see…unfortunately, neither of them are here. So, if you insist on making one, it would only be between us and not the four of us, I’m afraid.”
It might be a little harsh, but it’s the truth. He’s sure she stopped grieving herself some time ago, but every once in a while she’d do something that made him question just how far into grief she was in.
“You’re wrong, Lambda. They are here.”
One of those times would be now, apparently.
He breathes a long-suffering sigh as he removes a hand from one pocket and lifts it to cradle his forehead, his gaze subsequently turning to the ground, “They’re not.”
She whirls around on her heel to face him just as he lifts his own head, her eyebrows pointed down and her cheeks puffed the way they usually are when she’s being stubborn or mad—a trait she picked up from Cheria. He crosses his arms over his chest in response to the expression, quirking an eyebrow at her as if daring her to prove him wrong. This move appears to startle her, the pout disappearing and her eyebrows lifting up in favor of mild surprise before she quickly turns away, her own arms coming up to mimic his current stance.
“The tree. I know they’re not with us physically anymore…but their names are here. They carved their names here themselves when they were just boys. So, a part of them still exists within this tree, I think,” she explains, glancing over her shoulder at him briefly before looking back up at the tree, “So, if we make a Friendship Pact here, then…in a way it’ll be as if we’re making it with them too. Right?”
She uncrosses her arms and turns to face him again, her expression soft and imploring. It makes him have to avert his gaze for a moment, staring out at the nearby ocean instead and the way the low-hanging sun dances across its surface. After a moment he returns his gaze to Sophie, the girl’s expression unchanged and he breathes a defeated sigh before uncrossing his arms as well. “I suppose.”
Her expression brightens immediately into a smile and he blinks only once before he’s suddenly being pulled by an overzealous little sister to stand closer to the tree. She stands an arm’s length to his side, bouncing slightly on her toes with an almost annoying, patient smile adorning her face. As if waiting for him to mimic her position. He furrows his brow before turning a little awkwardly to face her, his arms remaining stiffly at his sides as he frowns down at her.
This is stupid. Absolutely stupid. Ridiculous. Asinine. But for all the silliness of this little ritual, it does seem to make her happy and he supposes he prefers that over any of her other emotions, even if it is a little annoying.
She gives a brief, satisfied nod of her head.
“Like this,” she says as she reaches out for his hand that’s facing the field, lifting it and holding it palm up before placing her own hand over his so that the palms of both hands were facing each other. She then raises her free hand and places it on the tree’s trunk, right over where Richard’s name is carved. She glances between his free hand and the tree, indicating for him to do the same.
He grumbles incoherently under his breath which causes her to quirk her own eyebrow almost threateningly and he quickly lifts his own free hand to mimic hers, placing his fingers over Asbel’s name. She smiles pleasantly at that and gives another nod before taking a deep breath.
“Lambda Lhant,” the sudden use of his full name startles him a bit and forces him to focus on his sister, “though we’ve known each other for a long time, many of those years were spent on negative emotions and misunderstandings.”
She smiles a bit then, almost fondly.
“And while we’ve been friends for a long time already, let’s stay this way for twice as long or longer than the time we spent as enemies. This is my vow of friendship to you,” she finishes, turning her head up to look at him expectantly. “Your turn!”
He’d been listening to her speech attentively the whole time, but the sudden return to him has him caught off guard, a feeling he doesn’t like. He tenses as a result before quickly relaxing again, though he’s unsure what to say. Sophie doesn’t appear to be in the mood to supply him with anything either, her gaze still upturned and expectant on him, her wide eyes blinking slowly as she waits. He considers for a moment before finally deciding on the words.
“I’ve been your friend for a long time, but it was The Fool who swore me to this life. So, I accept,” he deadpans, fighting really hard to keep his lips from twitching into a smirk at the pout his sister stares him down with. “Not everyone’s suitable for flowery language, flower girl.”
Her pout grows deeper and she lightly smacks at his hand with her own, the smirk finally showing through and a low, amused laughter actually escaping him.
“You’re mean,” she whines, as if she expected something different.
“And you’re a brat,” he retorts, though his voice is light and joking.
Her pout remains the same though she rolls her eyes a bit, lowering her hands—prompting him to do the same—and kneeling to pick up a nearby rock, holding it out to him.
“The pact’s not finished until you write your name. Write it wherever you want.”
He accepts the small stone and turns to face the tree, frowning up at it and surveying it. There is a lot of blank space, but he supposes the point would be for his name to be near theirs, wouldn’t it?
“Here,” he says, picking a spot a little under where Sophie’s worn name is.
He sets about carving his name into the tree, having learned how to write from the many times he watched Asbel do it. His hand writing is by no means neat, but he figures as long as it’s readable, it counts. Letting the stone drop back against the roots, he leans back to survey their four names on the trunk, turning his gaze after a moment to the girl, “Satisfied?”
She nods with a happy hum, her grin wide and beaming. The reaction makes him snort as he turns to begin to the trek back to the manor. They’ve been here long enough and it’ll be dark sooner rather than later. When he doesn’t hear his sister’s softer footsteps behind him he pauses to peer back over his shoulder at her. Of course she didn’t follow, because she’s too busy still staring at their names. He almost considers just shrugging and leaving. Almost.
“Nora’s making your favorite kind of crablettes tonight. Let’s go home so they’re still hot when we get there. Sophie?” He raises an eyebrow a bit as he watches her, waiting for her to come join him, but she remains in front of the tree.
“More for me, then,” he mumbles, loud enough for her to hear as he turns to continue walking back the way they came.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She shouts from behind him as she rushes up to walk at his side, a small giggle shaking her frame.
“What is it?” He asks, not turning to look at her and instead keeping his gaze ahead of them, occasionally scanning the nearby brush for lurking monsters.
She giggles again at his side, “Nothing. I’m just happy. Their wish was able to be fulfilled even after all this time, so…thank you.”
He hums softly in acknowledgement. Her happiness was apparently infectious because he, too, can feel it.
But he supposes that’s just a side effect of friendship.
Title: Insufferable Sisters
Rating:G
Pairing/Character: Lambda, Sophie
Spoilers: Nothing specifically, but it is post-game.
Words:~1,176
Summary: Being Lambda is suffering.
A/N: I was suddenly hit by this last night while talking in a Skype chat with some friends. I can never deny the opportunity to fill the world with more cute sibling shenanigans, so here we are. This is cavity inducing in how cute it is, be warned. Also it sucks to be Lambda. Thank you to the lovely Bele for betaing this for me U vU.
“Sophie. Sophie, wake up!”
He stared down at her, her body almost hidden in the massive field of purple flowers. It’d been getting late—in fact, it was night now—and she hadn’t come home. At the insistence of the current Lhant family, he went to go find her. He thought it was rather stupid, really, it wasn’t like she couldn’t take care of herself if a monster or something happened to attack her. He should’ve known she’d just simply be here. Again.
“This is the fifth time this week, Sophie. I’m not going to carry you back this time,” he crossed his arms, still staring down at her.
She remained unresponsive and unmoving, though. The only sign of her still being alive was the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He fought the very, very strong urge to stomp a foot into the ground.
“Sophie!” he tried again, still to no avail.
How this girl managed to fall asleep so deeply without any concern for possible danger was beyond him. Usually she only came here with the Lhant children during the day, but sometimes she’d come to the hill by herself and fall asleep in the field, much like she was now.
Arms still crossed, he glared down at her sleeping form, lips turning into a frown. He carefully went through various options in his mind. If simply calling her name wouldn’t wake her up, maybe another approach would? A glance to a nearby flower gave him the perfect idea.
“If you don’t wake up right now, I’ll swap out your soil stock for a variety that kills flowers instantly and neglect to tell you about it.”
The only response was her continuous, even breathing. His shoulders heaved as he released an exasperated puff of air.
Really, this girl was far more trouble than she was worth. But he supposed in a way this was a challenge and, well, who was he to back down from a challenge?
“I brought Ashley with me and she’s armed with a marker. She’ll write over every patch of your skin and dress!” He hadn’t brought anyone with him, but sleeping girls didn’t need to know that.
The response this time was a bit of a noise, but otherwise she remained asleep. Well, it was progress.
He considered a few other options to try but none of them were much different than what he’d already tried. He uncrossed his arms and returned them to his sides, lightly clenching his fists instead. Damn this girl.
“I really will just leave you here this time. You’ll wake up all alone, maybe with a monster sniffing at you. It serves you right,” he stated, lightly kicking at her foot to see if that would wake her up. It didn’t. Nor did his words.
He released a frustrated growl before moving a hand to rub at his forehead briefly, sliding it back through his unruly green hair. He really should just leave. Go back home. There was food waiting at home and he could just eat her portion for her, since she was too busy sleeping. He really wanted to just turn around and walk back.
However, as much as he wanted to do just that, he remained rooted to his place. He really had grown far too soft, hadn’t he? This was all The Fool’s fault.
He turned his glare from Sophie up to the tree behind her where the carved, though faded, names still remained. Yes. Everything about this situation was nothing less than That Fool’s fault, even if it had been over a century.
Another frustrated sigh and he was back to staring at his sister, who was still blissfully unaware of everything around her. He stayed like that for a moment longer before releasing what almost would pass for an annoyed whine.
“You owe me for this. I swear I won’t do this anymore if you do it again!” he grumbled as he kneeled down to pick her up.
Trying to maneuver her onto his back was too much of a hassle and he really didn’t want to have to bother with it. He was taller than her by a head anyway and unlike a certain Fool, he could carry her weight easily enough using only his arms.
Carefully—although he did entertain the thought of not being gentle in order to wake her up—he shifted her around so her body didn’t look or feel quite as awkward, her head rolling lazily against his shoulder. If he wasn’t so annoyed, he’d almost find it cute.
“You’re insufferable, I hope you’re well aware of that,” he mumbled under his breath, beginning the walk back to Lhant with her in his arms.
Sophie only mumbled a bit in her sleep, too softly for him to really hear what she might have said. Not that it really mattered to him at all.
When they returned to Lhant, she was still fast asleep. He didn’t recall her doing anything particularly exhausting earlier that day, so there was really no reason she would be in such a deep sleep. Maybe he’d question her about it later, if he still cared.
After entering her room, he felt a very strong urge to drop her unceremoniously onto her bed and leave. However, had he done that, he could just hear the admonishment The Fool would have given him if he were still able to. He really had grown much too soft. It was getting ridiculous.
Instead of dropping her, he gently set her down on her bed on top of the sheets. If she was cold, she could simply wake up and tuck herself in or something. Better yet, she could just not fall asleep in a field of flowers, thus forcing him to go get her. Once was one thing, but five times was just absurd!
He glared down at her again once he’d righted himself. Her arms were folded lazily over her stomach and her head was rolled lightly to one side on her pillow. Crossing his arms, he kept glaring at her sleeping face, as if it would wake her up with the force of it.
It didn’t, though, so he closed his eyes and heaved a resigned sigh, his features softening slightly. For some stupid reason, he found it more and more difficult to stay mad at her over things like this. It was truly frustrating.
Turning on his heel, he began to walk back to the open door, pausing just before passing through it. Maybe he should have covered her up…at least with a blanket…no! No, if he did that she wouldn’t learn! He shook his head quickly to dispel the stupidly soft thoughts.
“You are, without a doubt, the most insufferable sister to ever exist,” he mumbled, finally leaving her room and closing the door behind him.
Food was waiting in the dining room for them, and he was serious about eating both his and her portions. It only served her right!
He ended up only eating his.
Title:Insomnia
Rating:T
Pairing/Character: Richard, Lambda, Asbel, hints of RichAss
Spoilers: F-Arc spoilers.
Words:~2,322
Summary: If sleep had a face, he might punch it.
A/N: I’M SORRY FOR THE LAMBDA-CENTRIC STUFF LATELY. His POV is really fun to write from, he’s just so angry at everything like a tsundere jerkass. Anyway, this was an idea I got a while ago and really really wanted to write it so I finally did. I hope I did ok with both of them…many thanks to lenienna for betaing for me~!
It was one of those nights again, it seemed. Even though their agreement was very clear and they always followed it, sometimes Asbel…did weird things in his sleep. Like subconsciously push him forward into having unintentional control of their body. He supposed that had they not been sharing a body, this might be equivalent to kicking someone out of bed in one’s sleep. Really, The Fool should consider himself lucky that Lambda was no longer the same. Such a habit would’ve been fatal just a little over a year ago.
Normally, though these occurrences were exceptionally rare, he’d just close his eyes and go back to sleep. Asbel would wake up in the morning and not remember his odd sleeping habits or that Lambda temporarily had control. Tonight, however, was not one of those nights.
For some reason he couldn’t go back to sleep. Not that he needed to anyway, being an eternal and ethereal being, but sleeping was…an oddly enjoyable activity. He could almost see why Protos Heis herself would partake in it despite being in the same boat as him. Sleeping did at least help keep him from being bored.
He felt Asbel shift a bit inside and thought he might wake up, but he remained asleep. Just wonderful. Then again, this Fool did have the tendency to sleep heavily. “Like a log,” one might say.
The ceiling above them was high and immaculately decorated—as expected from a castle interior. Richard had summoned Asbel to Barona for some political business of some sort which turned into Asbel staying over for the night. They did this sometimes; it was almost like a ritual between them. Sometimes Asbel stayed at the castle, sometimes Richard would stay in the manor. Sometimes it was business, sometimes they were more…personal visits.
This visit, for example, started as business and ended as personal. This is why Lambda couldn’t utilize any other methods of distraction except for staring aimlessly at the ceiling. After all, it wouldn’t do for the Lord of Lhant to be seen parading around their king’s castle naked. Although the idea of Asbel’s reaction was quite entertaining, the equally prominent image of Asbel scolding him…was unpleasant, to say the least. Plus, even if he’d decided to do that, there was another factor to consider that was impeding him. That being, Richard was right there. Asleep, granted, but Lambda knew from experience that Richard had never been a particularly heavy sleeper. Trying to sneak out of bed without alerting him would be next to impossible, even for him.
So he continued to lie there, staring at the ceiling, running his purple eyes over the many patterns and lines. Counting them, rolling his eyes along them in various motions, anything that could possibly bore him enough to sleep. He closed his eyes occasionally to try and force sleep, but still it refused to come. He released a closed breath of frustration after the third attempt.
He felt shifting movement next to him and thought maybe Richard was just moving in his sleep until,
“Asbel?” came the sleepy, but very much awake, voice.
Great. The Fool’s boyfriend was awake now and Lambda was still very much not asleep. No one had ever been around when something like this happened.
He could feel Richard moving to sit up a split second before the blonde’s face appeared in front of his eyes. Concern was written there before it melted into surprise at the sight of his two purple eyes.
“Lambda?” he asked, sitting back and thus removing his face from his sight.
“Yes,” he answered, since there’d be no way to hide now. And no point for that matter.
“Where is Asbel?” came the tentative question, concern and distrust laced lightly within his voice.
How laughable. He’d helped calm Fodra and didn’t do anything more than what he’d said he’d do with Asbel’s body and still the blonde carried distrust for him. He supposed it was only natural, given their history and the circumstances. Admittedly, the rest of their friends’ feelings towards him were improving. Cheria no longer looked at Asbel like she was afraid he’d disappear and Hubert and Malik no longer looked at him with guarded, wary expressions hidden behind their eyes. Even the Amarcian seemed more lax around him now that Fodra was calm. But even after all these months, there were still thinly veiled notions of distrust towards him, mainly from Richard and Protos Heis. Although she, too, was improving slightly—perhaps because of The Fool’s sudden announcement to her that she now had a brother. That left only Richard, who even now would still occasionally look at Asbel’s one purple eye with the briefest glances filled with wariness and distrust. He supposed he could give Richard credit for trying to hide it.
“Asleep,” was the answer he finally gave, “currently having some…inane dream about curry chasing crablettes. Ridiculous, really.”
Richard’s features relaxed at those words, almost looking as if he’d sighed in relief though there had been no audible sigh. Lambda almost found it touching.
“I see,” he said, a hint of a laugh trailing afterwards, “that sounds like an interesting dream.”
He said nothing, only moving his eyes away from the king to resume his staring at the ceiling. He did this until another question forced him to avert his eyes again,
“So then…why are you up Lambda? If Asbel is asleep, shouldn’t you be as well? He’d be worried if he knew you weren’t sleeping properly.”
He snorted at that. The Fool had started trying to make sleeping into a habit for Lambda a few months ago after they were done with Fodra. He’d insisted that it would be pointless for him to “sleep” as humans do because he is, in fact, not human and therefore wouldn’t require sleep. But The Fool was having none of that and insisted with equal strength that “no child of his was going to be treated as non-human”. Lambda had mixed feelings about that but eventually gave in to the demand.
“Perhaps I would be if this Fool had better sleeping habits. You know, sharing a body with him sometimes feels like what it must be like to share a bed with a child who kicks in his sleep. You should consider yourself lucky that he doesn’t do that outside our shared space,” he released a bit of a laugh as he spoke.
Richard apparently found his quip humorous as well, because he chuckled.
“I suppose so,” he said afterwards, “but you mean to tell me you’ve never once pretended to sleep and let Asbel think you did?” his mouth upturned into the hint of a smirk. Damn this other Fool.
Lambda had, in fact, done just that the first few times of Asbel insisting that he try to sleep like a human does. Mostly out of defiance…but he wasn’t about to let Richard know that.
“No…and to answer your earlier question—insomnia, apparently.”
Richard’s eyebrows knitted together in concern at that. How curious, showing distrust one moment and being concerned for him the next.
“Are you alright? Is there something bothering you? Should I summon a maid to get you tea?”
Curiousand ridiculous, apparently. This Fool consorted with a lot of those types of people.
“Hmph. I’m fine. Trivial reasons such as that don’t affect my sleeping habits like they might for you. Why are you awake, then? This Fool would be just as ridiculously concerned for you as he would for me,” he bit back, pursing his lips slightly into what was most definitely not a pout!
Richard didn’t immediately respond, only averted his gaze to the sheets where his hand fiddled delicately with the loose fabrics. Lambda didn’t particularly care for the answer, but it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do at the moment. Perhaps idle conversation would be dull enough to allow for sleep.
“I was…having a dream. A nightmare, to be precise. I thought I’d tell Asbel about it, but there’s no need to wake him for it.”
A nightmare? He didn’t seem to be having one just a bit ago. Then again, Lambda didn’t recall the blonde having too many dreams or nightmares so frequently when they’d been sharing a body. Although, he’d been preoccupied at the time, so maybe he just wasn’t remembering it. Or maybe…
An odd tightening in his chest suddenly hit him. It was mildly painful, but nothing seemed wrong with Asbel’s body. He waved it off.
“I see. Well, The Fool may not be awake, but I am and I’ve nothing better to do, as you know.”
Because surely, if a dream was good enough to tell Asbel, then there should be no reason he couldn’t be told either. At the very least, it would fill this gap of boredom.
However, Richard just averted his eyes again, the expression on his face becoming closed, guarded.
“Ah, that's…complicated…”
And then it made sense.
“Was it about me?”
Richard startled at the sudden question, but nodded his head after a moment’s hesitation, still keeping his gaze averted. The pang returned to his chest and stayed there this time.
“Was it…my fault that you’re having these dreams so frequently?” he asked, quieter than he’d intended.
Richard looked up suddenly at that,
“I—no! No of course it…that is…maybe…maybe a little…”
Lambda frowned. Trying to spare his feelings was a useless effort. Yet still the pang persisted. It was beginning to get rather troublesome. Although, he couldn’t really blame Richard for how he felt. The ordeal he put his body through against his will would traumatize anyone, even those with the strongest of minds. His actions at the time were necessary to him and the results and consequences were not something he particularly gave much consideration to—especially now that there would be no need for him to run or hide anymore. So why then…did he feel as if he did something wrong? The pang only grew a little more painful.
“Hmm. It’s rather pointless and won’t really do anything for you now, but…I suppose I should apologize.”
Richard smiled softly, almost sheepishly. It curiously made him look a few years younger than he actually was.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was almost guilt I’m hearing from you, Lambda.”
Guilt? Perhaps that’s what this emotion was. He’d felt many strange things since Fodra, perhaps as a result of his actions there. Protos Heis underwent many changes as a result of merging with a Little Queen, and he himself had, in a way, merged with their unified form. Perhaps similar effects were happening to him, too. Perhaps, like Protos Heis, he was also becoming human in some small way…what a foolish notion.
Rather than answering, he simply turned his head away, releasing a small huff. He felt Richard shifting on the big bed they occupied. It seemed he’d returned to lying down next to him.
“It’s not your fault, though, Lambda. I…I shoulder some of that blame as well.”
Odd, he didn’t remember confirming or denying his claim of guilt. Not that he was far off the mark, probably. Lambda turned his head again so that he could look at Richard, who was indeed lying down now, facing him.
“You’re being rather presumptuous, don’t you think?” he huffed mockingly, “Though you shouldn’t blame yourself either. Those were my actions…done of my own will. You played little part in them, so I see no reason for you to blame yourself for the matter.”
Richard frowned slightly and shook his head, which just buried it a little more in his pillow.
“No…had I been stronger and not so easily swayed…had I had the conviction and strength that Asbel has, maybe I…maybe I could’ve prevented it…”
Lambda snorted at the thought without meaning to.
“I doubt that. Besides…” he turned away again to face the ceiling, attempting to hide the trace of a smile that was forming, “you and this Fool are both equally strong. It’s meaningless to contemplate on what ifs in this case. Even had you been like this Fool, I doubt the outcome would’ve been much different. So…you don’t share any of the blame.”
Silence fell between them. For a moment, he thought perhaps Richard had fallen back asleep. He could feel the edges of sleep starting to return to him too.
“Be that as it may, both of us have grown and learned, have we not? So…it’s alright. Thank you…Lambda.”
He hummed in response, the pang of guilt significantly lessened now. He supposed this meant his apology had been accepted.
“I know this Fool does all he can to help, but…I’m here as well.”
He turned on his side facing away from Richard, that sleepy feeling growing stronger. Perhaps he could finally get some sleep. He heard Richard breathe a laugh, but the thread of conversation effectively ended. Within minutes he heard Richard’s breathing even out and soon afterwards he followed. Asbel remained obliviously asleep.
In the morning, Richard awoke first feeling oddly more refreshed than usual. He was up and dressed, mulling about his room after telling a servant to start making breakfast for them, a smile on his face and a bit of a spring in his step.
That was how Asbel found him when he woke up half an hour later. He observed his boyfriend for a moment, still blinking the sleep out of his heterochromatic eyes before smiling fondly.
“You seem happy,” he said with a yawn, “Did you sleep well?”
Richard turned to face him with a fond smile of his own.
“Oh, yes, La—I mean…it was a very peaceful and deep sleep. In fact, probably the best I’ve slept in a while.”
Asbel’s brows furrowed briefly before relaxing back into a soft expression, a laugh escaping him.
“Glad to hear it!”
Within the back of the mind space, Lambda was also humming happily.
Title: When Eight Becomes Two
Rating: T because mentions of death
Pairing/Character: Sophie, Lambda
Spoilers: End game spoilers galore
Words:~2,095
Summary: Dealing with emotional responses was never his forte. Consoling crying girls was especially high on the list of things that were not his forte.
Author’s Note: SO I FINALLY WROTE THAT SAD IDEA WITH SOPHIE AND LAMBDA. Naturally, it’s part of Lhant Family Moments, so this can be considered chapter 2 of sorts even though LFM is just a collection of stories involving the Lhant Family as a whole. So this part is loosely related to this one, though this can be read as a stand alone one shot. I should also warn that this part is kind of Hurt/Comfort as it involves sad things but it’s also kind of cute, so hopefully that makes up for the sads. Hope everyone enjoys it either way! May this encourage more people to write/draw them with this kind of relationship because my heart needs it…
She knew it had to happen someday. It was only logical, after all. Humans weren’t like them. They were weak, fragile, subject to breaking down with age. Of course they would reach a point where they’d simply stop moving altogether.
She knew that, and yet here she was before him, crying like it had been unexpected when the truth of the matter was that both of them knew it for quite some time. Then again, perhaps, he should’ve expected this as well. She was always the more emotional one. She cried at the funerals and passings of everyone else that they knew, why then would The Fool’s death result in a different reaction?
No, he supposed, it made sense when he thought of it like that—not that it helped him understand any better. Despite all these years of living with and amongst them there were still some things about humans that just…completely eluded him.
He scoffed mentally to himself. If The Fool was going to up and die so suddenly in his sleep, the least he could’ve done was teach him what you’re supposed to do with crying girls. Normally, or at least had he been asked ages ago, he wouldn’t care at all. What business was it of his to care about the emotional responses of those around him? Let alone someone like Protos Heis? It wasn’t any of his business nor something he’d particularly care about.
However, nowadays he supposed such a reaction wouldn’t have been very “brotherly” of him, now would it? He would’ve deigned to smirk, but instead he just frowned. Honestly, what was that Fool thinking, making them siblings of all things? The idea was preposterous then and it still baffled him now. Plus, he left without properly telling him what to do in this situation. When the others had died, The Fool was always there to dry her tears and console her, always going on to him about how he and Protos Heis were siblings now and how this was why they were supposed to take care of each other. All good and nice in theory—except for the part where he’d neglected to tell him how he was supposed to do that.
At some point unbeknownst to him—really when did he actually become so lax around her? Ridiculous—she’d moved and was now hugging him, rather tightly by the glance he was able to get of her hands in the poor excuse of a shirt he wore. And still crying. Always crying. But now it was into his chest and he didn’t necessarily have to look at her, which was nice—but he could still hear her.
Honestly, the Amarcian and her twin halflings had done an impressive job. The thought had never occurred to him that he could even have his own body again. It’d been eons since he was alone in a body all his own, not a shared or stolen one. In one thousand years he’d gotten accustomed to being either bodyless or stealing the bodies of other living beings. To have one that was entirely his again after so long still admittedly felt strange and foreign…but not entirely unpleasant. This was a parting gift from The Fool, he supposed.
It’d been a foolish and unprompted suggestion. Well, maybe not entirely unprompted. It’d only been suggested when the Amarcian had sent a mass message to everyone rambling on about how she’d figured out the missing pieces of the lost art of humanoid making. That was when The Fool suggested the mere idea of him having a new body made for him. She hadn’t even built a proto-type, but The Fool had asked her anyway after getting a rather nonchalant answer out of him. That was about thirty years ago. Still, despite that, this body was suitable. Nostalgic, really. These humans were strange and amusing with their ideas, giving him a new body that looked like an aged up version of the one he had long, long ago. Sometimes it was almost too much for even him to truly comprehend.
He was startled out of his reverie by hearing his name come from the girl. Ah, that’s right. He still had a crying…sister to deal with.
“Pro—,” he bit his lip. He’d tried to stop referring to her as that when The Fool had reprimanded him about it one day. “She’s your sister now,” he’d said, “so you need to start calling her by her actual name!” but some habits die hard, as they say.
“Sophie,” he tried again, “it’s been months. Why are you still crying about this?”
Indeed, it’d been about three months now since The Fool had passed away. He’d been in this new body for a little less than that too, since The Fool had requested it be done as soon as possible after his eventual death. The twin halflings had arrived to facilitate it a week or so later. The funeral had been about a month ago, so really the reason for Sophie’s continued tears was completely eluding him.
The response to his question came in the form of a head shaking negatively, though still against his chest, and a muffled “I’m…I’m not crying about that…”
This surprised him, since lately the only things she cried about anymore were memories of their friends or when one or more of her flowers died unexpectedly. He glanced at the window in his room and remembered suddenly that it was late at night, not that he’d been sleeping really.
He gave a mildly exasperated sigh before asking,
“I see. Was it a dream, then?”
A nod this time and a slightly tightened grip on his shirt. Good grief, this girl…how The Fool even dealt with this for all the decades he did was truly commendable. Or even that other Fool, Richard, since he vaguely recalled times when Sophie would run crying to him instead of The Fool who was their “father”.
“You…You left. You, and Aslyn, Michael, Alex, Camellia, Stewart…everyone left…a-and I was alone and it was dark and lonely and—,” a sob cut her off, but she didn’t continue speaking anyway.
He hummed in acknowledgement, honestly not sure what to say to that. She used to do this to The Fool all the time, he recalled. She’d come into the bedroom and quietly wake him up to tell him about a dream she had if she didn’t do it at breakfast the next morning. Usually her dreams were silly or happy…she rarely, if ever, had dreams of that nature that left her, well, like this. He searched his memories but honestly couldn’t recall any time from before that was like this one. If they happened, he must’ve been truly asleep when they occurred.
“Well,” he started finally, “as you can see, I’m clearly still here. So what is the immediate problem?” She was still crying, after all. Surely she shouldn’t still be crying if his presence or lack thereof was the concern.
“You are,” she agreed, sniffling before moving her head now to look up at him, “but for how much longer, Lambda?”
Well, he certainly hadn’t expected that. This night was shaping up to be quite an interesting one with many surprises.
“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
Because really, he’d still been here for those nearly three months, hadn’t he? And it’s not like he had anywhere else to go or the desire to go anywhere else at the moment. He’ll have to go by The Fool’s grave later and admonish him for leaving him ill-equipped for these situations—wait, that would be just as foolish. He’d be talking to a slab of stone with names on it.
Her features changed into that of a pout, tears still brimming at the edges of her eyes.
“I mean…you weren’t always that particularly happy about being in this family, so…” she tilted her head a bit to the side, a frown and worried eyebrows returning to her face, “So now that Asbel’s…gone…there’s not really anything to keep you here…right?”
Ah, so that was it. She worried about the silliest of things, though he supposed her concern was valid. After all, he hadn’t exactly been the most enthusiastic participant of this family of theirs. It seemed even that she spent far too much time around The Fool.
“Hmph…it seems his foolishness somehow rubbed off on you. So it was contagious…” he quipped, getting a startled “Hey!” as a response which produced a light chuckle out of him.
She’d gone back to hiding her face against his chest, mumbling “You’re mean,” loud enough for him to hear.
He chuckled again before finally answering, “It is true what you said, but your logic has a flaw. As I recall, that Fool tasked me with making sure you weren’t left alone, always worrying and doting on you as he did. So, I’m afraid, even if I wanted to I can’t exactly leave. Nor do I really care to at the moment,”
He paused, unsure what else to do or say. She wasn’t exactly crying anymore, though he could still hear the occasional sniffle coming from her, and her face was still hiding in his chest. Vaguely, he recalled a time when Aslyn—the Fool’s brat—had fallen from a tree and scraped both of his knees. He’d cried and whined even after Cheria had healed his small wounds with her artes, but he’d stopped when she hugged him and pet his hair. Perhaps that was the secret key. Did it work as well on girls as it did young boys?
“Besides,” he added, lifting his hands now to mimic the motion he remembered and smiling when Sophie jumped a bit in his arms, “we made that Friendship Pact after Fodra, did we not? It won’t get any easier, since they’re only humans and will have to eventually die as well. And their children too. You know this as well. Still…even if I do end up physically leaving one day, it won’t be permanent.”
He turned his head away, though still kept his arms around her and absentmindedly stroked the back of her head as Cheria had with Aslyn.
“The Fool assigned me the role of your big brother, after all. It would be unwise if I ignored his order. In fact, that Fool was so insistent on it, I have no problem imagining that if he could, he would manifest himself just to admonish me. It’d be rather unpleasant, to say the least,” he smiled despite himself.
He was only half kidding, honestly. For all his centuries of hatred, being forced to live with her and be around her constantly without having to fear for his life made her start to grow on him. Life, he admitted, would be rather dull without her. Good thing they’ll both live forever, then.
Her head moved which prompted him to remove his hand and look back at her.
“So…you won’t leave? Even if…when everyone else does?” she was staring up at him, her eyes shimmering with either more unshed tears or hope, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps both.
“Yes.”
She smiled then and released one hand from his shirt to wipe at her eyes.
“That’s good then. I…I feel better now, so I should go back. Thank you, Lambda,” she removed her hand from her face and continued to smile at him which only made him turn away and mumble under his breath.
She giggled while removing herself from him before heading towards the door that had been left open from when she ran in here.
“Sorry for disturbing you like that. Good night, Lambda,” she said over her shoulder.
“Mm, next time you have a nightmare, do try to knock, will you? Surely The Fool taught you better than that.”
She only giggled again before closing the door back and leaving him in silence once more. He lied back on the bed, despite the fact sleep wasn’t exactly a necessity to him, even after all these years. As ill equipped as he was, he supposed he handled that well enough. At least she stopped crying. He could just hear that Fool praising him.
Staring up at the wooden ceiling, the thought of visiting Asbel’s grave crossed his mind again. On second thought, maybe he will admonish that stone, foolishness be damned. He never did finish telling him just how much of a Fool he had been.
Yes, he thought while closing his eyes, he’ll do that tomorrow…after shopping for better clothes with Sophie.
Title:Hollow Home
Rating:G
Pairing/Character:Pascal
Spoilers:Nothing in particular
Words:~2,078
Status:Complete
Summary:Home is where your heart is, but not anymore.
More headcanon oneshot goodness! This was inspired by a conversation I had with my friends. It’s set in my Graces Family Headcanon and involves one of Hubert and Pascal’s kids from that HC. Some of my theories and other headcanons are also hinted at, but it should mostly be easy to understand.
Much thanks to WelkikittyandHikari for betaing!
~Hollow Home~
It was really useful, her ability to notice the little things other people didn’t. It helped her a lot in various ways, like letting her know the general idea of how another person was feeling or things in the environment that her comrades may have missed. It was just one of her many talents that came in great use during all the trouble with Lambda and Fodra.
But there were times when it was more a curse than a blessing. She’d learned that when she was younger, when the teenagers and young adults in the Enclave refused to play with her or only went to her when they wanted her to do something for them. There were the jealous glances in their direction, the way people usually brushed off her opinions, even how her own sister would ignore her sometimes. She always pretended she never noticed the odd looks she received, or the looks of pity aimed at Fourier for having to raise someone like her on her own, or the whispering people did the moment she turned her back, but she did. She always noticed it.
However, there was no point in her life where she hated this “talent” as much as she did right now. She stood just outside the entrance teleporter to the Enclave, looking at it as if she couldn’t decide what it was or how it worked. It had been a very long time since she had last been to the Enclave. Many years, and this was her first time back.
Stewart had asked if he could go see her home. He’d never been to it before—none of their children had, really—and he babbled incessantly to Hubert about wanting to see the architecture of his mom’s side of the family. Hubert was usually the one who entertained his obsessive need to look at and examine architecture, taking him to Barona and Grayleside and all the cities in Strahta dozens of times. But never once had he been to the Enclave and he kept bringing it up so much and making so many puppy eyes that they finally conceded. Pascal elected to take him since she knew the area better.
In truth, though, that wasn’t the whole reason she’d offered to be the one to bring him. It was a little more complicated than that, and it brought her back to the reasons she hated her talent for noticing the little things. Stewart tugged at her hand and looked up at her curiously. Evidently he’d gotten bored of gazing in awe at the fairly simple, though weather-worn, arch above the teleporter. Well, it was better to get this over with, and she couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing her youngest when they’d made it this far.
The Enclave was, unsurprisingly, just like she remembered it being all those years ago. It was worn-down, dilapidated (yet still functioning, at least) and had a population of about twenty. Stewart was immediately awestruck at the actual entrance just past the inner-teleporter, spinning around as much as he could with his hand held and looking at the designs on the worn-out floor like he’d just discovered the world’s greatest treasure. It made her smile to see him happy, easing some of the worry and dread that was resting uncomfortably in her chest.
“Now, Stew, ya gotta stay with me, kay?”
“Kay,” was his simple reply while he went back to examining the entry archway, taking a moment to wonder at the statues of her people’s symbol.
Gently tugging on his arm so he’d follow her, she led him past the entrance and deeper into the Enclave and therein spawned the reason she had never hated her ability to notice little things more than she did right now.
Immediately upon setting foot into the actual Enclave, they were noticed by two Amarcians that stood near the central greeting statue. Stewart didn’t seem to notice them, as he was too busy examining the stonework on the bridge and the diamond designs on the floor. But she did. She especially noticed when one turned to the other and began whispering, darting glances every so often in their direction.
Of course, they immediately stopped when they grew nearer and more within ear shot. Stewart briefly looked up from following the design lines with his feet to look at them and beamed and greeted them. He didn’t seem at all fazed when they smiled back, one even waving slightly at him. But she knew better. She recognized those smiles as being the tense, ‘we’re only tolerating you right now because we know you’ll leave soon’ smiles that some of her people were fond of using, particularly whenever there were non-Amarcians in the Enclave. Or, as it was in this case, half-Amarcian.
She wondered briefly if Fourier was here. They were only part way into the Enclave and she already felt that she needed a distraction. But she brushed off the thought as soon as it came. No, if Fourier was anywhere, it would be her lab, as always. And even if she was here, it would only make the whispers and the glances worse. It was one thing with just her and Stewart, but adding Fourier would add pity glances aimed at her sister and whispers about how unfortunate it was for her, being one of the last hopes of the Enclave. No, it was better if it was just them.
If it was just them, then the majority of whispers would be aimed at her and the glances would be at him. She almost envied her son’s seemingly inability to notice the atmosphere around him. Then again, his brain was too full of architecture babble to even notice much of anything if he could. He got that trait from her and she was almost grateful for it.
She decided to show him the fountain, figuring it would be something he’d like. Thankfully he did, and she allowed him to walk around the fountain unaccompanied by her. He kneeled down by it to examine the stonework better, walked around the circumference of the base a few times and even politely asked the lady that usually stood near it if he could try the chocolate. Pascal watched carefully as she helped her son reach a reusable cup underneath a chocolate fall, not missing at all the highly disapproving glare that was sent her way when his back was turned.
There were some small blessings, at least.
“Oh my! Pascal, is this your son?” asked a middle-aged woman as she walked over to them.
“Well, he’s one of 'em, yeah.” She answered, lightly tugging on her son’s arm to coax him from where he fled behind her.
“Oh gracious, he’s so cute!” she cooed, petting the child’s head and returning his greeting.
An elderly man wandered over as well, “How old ye be, boy?”
“I’m eight years old, sir.”
“Hooh! Such politeness and eloquence for someone so young! You must make your mother proud.” Stewart blushed at this praise, not used to having this much attention showered on him.
She liked these people, because she could always tell they were being genuine. But even their brief moments of generosity wasn’t enough to completely erase the negative feelings brought on by the younger people in the Enclave. Fortunately, Stewart continued to remain oblivious to it all.
As they continued to walk around the Enclave—Stewart stopping sometimes to poke around the bases of the central statues—she began to understand Fermat more than she had previously. It had always confused her, back then, why Fermat left and never came back. Though her reasons were sound—it is kind of a headache to have to hike up and down a mountain to get to work every day—Fendel’s working conditions weren’t so harsh that there was never time to visit the Enclave. But she never came home. Not on weekends or holidays or…ever. Even when she got married and had her baby, she never once came to the Enclave, nor did she ever bring Sagan. Pascal hadn’t even known about Sagan until she visited her friend one day out of the blue. She never understood why she refused to come back at the time, but she was beginning to now.
She loved her people and she loved her origins, but sadly there were wounds that were so many generations old that they were impossible to heal. Even now, while they walked toward the Overseer’s Chamber, she could feel all the glares on her back. If she listened closely, she could almost swear she heard the constant whispering of betrayal and disappointment. It was quite ridiculous, really. It was as if she’d killed somebody! Then again…in a way, maybe she did. They were dying. All of them, living, dead and unborn. The amount of fertile females with the minute possibility of successfully conceiving and delivering could be counted on one hand, and she and Fermat had gone and subtracted it by two.
It didn’t matter that they had had kids at all. It didn’t matter that their kids were at least half-Amarcian. No, it only would’ve mattered if they had been ’pure’. Purity was all they cared about as a dying culture anymore and she and Fermat had tainted it. Nothing could ever really be done to change that. Not anymore. She was certain that, if Fermat had ever come back, she would’ve been treated the same way.
Stewart was especially ecstatic at seeing the Overseer’s Chamber. Poisson had since taken over the position of Overseer and had grown into a strong and respected young adult. She knew the child, since she had occasionally visited the Oswell home. Upon seeing them both for the first time in a while, she patted the boy’s head delightedly and let him wander around the room, periodically explaining one feature or another to him. Pascal smiled at the sight of her youngest hanging on every word of one of her oldest friends.
When he had his fill of the architecture in this room, they said their goodbyes; though Pascal caught the sympathetic smile Poisson gave her as the transporter moved away.
The stares and whispering returned once again, yet Stewart still didn’t notice it. Pascal thought of swinging by her old house, but there was really nothing of interest for them there. House structures in the Enclave were all the same and the thought of staying longer than she had to didn’t sit well with her. It was almost funny how she couldn’t recall a single time in her life when she’d been this eager to leave the Enclave. Stewart took a few more moments to examine the side of a bridge before they were finally off to return home.
Leaving the Enclave, Pascal couldn’t help but feel a little bit sad. For all the good and bad memories there, the Enclave had always been her home. And yet, with this recent trip, it hadn’t felt at all like home. Sure, it had been a little awkward when she had first brought her friends there all those years ago and people had been a little wary of the outsiders, but it wasn’t as bad as this. It was never as bad as this until more started showing up.
Truthfully, she hadn’t known what to expect. When she had the twins, Fermat had warned her about going to the Enclave. Word travels fast on Ephinea, and even faster in the Enclave. What she found there was worse than anything she had expected from her own people. It was a good thing she hadn’t let Hubert come alone with Stewart. Hubert was, in his own way, just as observant as she was and likely would’ve noticed the same things she did. And that, she reasoned, was something he didn’t really need to see or know about.
On the shuttle ride home, Stewart babbled incessantly about all he had observed about the architecture in the Enclave and rattled off different facts and figures on the age and stability of the stone types and the craftsmanship of the designs and stonework. She smiled and nodded, not really understanding what he was saying, but he sounded happy. And as long as he was happy, she figured that was worth any feelings of rejection and disappointment. Yes, she decided, it was even worth the feeling that she had, in a way, been exiled from the one place she used to call home.
Title:Silent Words
Rating:T
Pairing/Character:Huscal
Spoilers:Nothing in particular
Words:1,431
Status:Complete
Summary:The curious, and honestly the most interesting, thing about Hubert was that he didn’t really speak in words. Some of the best things he ever says are, actually, silent.
Author’s Note: Written with Dubu and I’s Hubert and Pascal in mind, but I tried to keep it relatively IC (which isn’t too hard considering we RP that way anyway). I lost sleep for this because it just WOULD NOT leave me alone to sleep in peace X_X.
I’m happy with it, though. Also somewhat part of my Graces Family Headcanon because this is what I imagine their married life is kind of like for the first few years before having kids.
And here:
Silent Words
Most people wouldn’t be able to guess it from first meeting her, but Pascal is a pretty observant person. Exceptionally observant, though of the little things. Certain things like dates and exact names are big things she tends to forget, but the little, almost inconsequential details of a situation or a person rarely escape her notice.
This observational quality tends to manifest most with people she likes, mostly her friends but namely Hubert.
It wasn’t apparently well-known (or, at least, no one else in their little motley crew had ever seemed to pick it up), but Hubert never really spoke. Or…he did, quite often and loudly in fact, but that wasn’t really talking, most of the time. Hubert was, by nature, a reserved and quiet person and the majority of anything he ever really said wasn’t spoken in words, but in actions. It had, admittedly, taken her the many months of travel and the time since their more personal relationship began to really start noticing them. But, when she found one, she soon found another and another until she could probably name off a whole list of wordless vocabulary. It was, frankly, quite fascinating, and just one of the many things that made Hubert, well…Hubert.
The first thing she’d noticed had actually taken two occasions to understand. They both worked regularly at home and away and sometimes there was stuff that came up at the Enclave or somewhere in Fendel that required her to zip on over there to try and fix it. Hubert generally had to stay behind because of his own work, but when she did arrive home after days or a week-and-a-half, he always greeted her with a long kiss at the door before running off back to his work. It had surprised her the first time, but the second time she began to hear it, and each subsequent time the message became clearer. When Hubert did that, he was effectively saying “Welcome home, I missed you,” without actually saying it. It wasn’t long after she understood the message that she began returning it for those times when he came home after a long while away on business. He seemed to understand.
After that, she noticed there were actually multiple different kisses he gave her, each with their own meaning. A kiss to her forehead when they woke up was his “Good morning,” and a peck on the lips before bed was “Good night.” Though she wasn’t sure how he knew, whenever she felt upset about something he would generally wrap his arms around her mid-section as a way of asking “Are you okay?” An affirmative answer usually got a quick kiss on her shoulder before he went back to whatever he was doing.
Normally, when they slept, his arms were a natural weight around her waist. But there were times when he’d fully wrap both arms around her and hold her closer to him. This wasn’t that abnormal, but when he held her like that she could always tell when something was upsetting him because of how tightly he was holding her. When that happened she usually tried to coax him into actually talking. Sometimes he would, sometimes he’d deny anything was wrong. Typical Hubert.
These words and messages weren’t just in kisses, though. Most of them weren’t even in physical messages. Hubert was never really a touch-y kind of guy, and that fact barely changed when they began this relationship (though she considers him actively communicating through little touches like kisses to be some progress. Very nice progress). Most of Hubert’s clearest messages, she found, came from the little things he did.
Like on those long nights, sometimes, where research kept her up way past the point where she would’ve normally gone to bed, Hubert would bring hot cocoa up to her office area. It didn’t mean anything in particular, but it was his way of showing concern and a suggestion to take a break. She wasn’t one for taking breaks, though, but answering this gesture with an update of her progress seemed to satisfy him before he’d leave her to her work. Perhaps the gesture doubled as encouragement, because he recognized the importance of her research and work. Concern or encouragement, she appreciated it nonetheless (and, hey, chocolate was really the best cure for research-related exhaustion).
There were other things too. She could always tell when he was over-thinking something because the deepness of the furrow of his eyebrows was directly proportional to how much he was worried or concerned over some internal matter. Talking or giving him a quick peck on the lips generally snapped him out of it.
When he read, he always read sitting up. A book in his lap meant he was open to being interrupted, but if he was clenching a book in both hands interrupting was the furthest from a good idea you could get.
He crossed his arms when he was angry (or being serious, depending on who he was talking to and the set of his shoulders), laced or steepled his fingers when he was brooding on something important, and he pushed his glasses up much more frequently when he was nervous.
If there was a night where she’d fallen asleep at her desk, she normally awoke to find whatever she’d been working on moved slightly out of her way and a blanket tucked around her shoulders.
When they were away from each other, they always kept in touch with the communicator. Even there, where they actually had to use words, these unspoken messages existed, mainly in the length of his messages. One word answers meant something was bothering him or otherwise wrong, two to ten words was normal and long, lengthy messages generally meant he was worried about her. She responded accordingly when she could.
He compulsively cleaned when he was anxious (like when he was waiting to hear back from the President for word on a promotion), sat close to her when relaxed (and conversely would sit far away when not) and would sometimes, unexpectedly, fix her with a certain look that effectively said “Come to bed,” with the inference that it was more a suggestion and not a command (unless he was in a particularly bossy mood that day).
Hubert didn’t normally smile. At least, if he did, he almost always did so outside of her view (he seemed to like keeping up the Stoicface McStoicer expression even when at home). However, the very few smiles he did display, even if only for a few seconds, held small messages too. A smile where both ends of his mouth were slightly upturned was the general happy smile that gave away that he was, to some kind of degree, happy and at ease with whatever made him smile. The left side of his lip curling up meant he felt smug about something; the right side doing the same was reserved for moments of amusement where he might’ve said “You dork,” or some other kind of chide remark of affection. There were smiles made only when he was looking at her, smiles for his brother, small and impartial smiles for official people, and there was a very special smile that usually accompanied the sparkle of his eyes when he spotted something Sunscreen Rangers related. It became something of a game to her to see how often she could get his more happy smiles to appear.
It had taken a lot of time and trial and error, yet there were many other words in this strange language that utilized his whole body that she was still trying to learn. But she found, with the ones she had learned, that he was a lot easier to understand than he had been before, like when they were all traveling together.
Some things, though, she just couldn’t quite figure out the meaning behind, no matter how often they happened. Like why he would randomly decide to hold her hand when they were out of the house somewhere, but would object to any other displays of public affection (well, unless they were 99.9% alone in public, then he would accept small kisses). Maybe it had no real meaning and was just something unique to Hubert.
Most other people would probably have been annoyed or driven crazy by all the silent talking he did, and normally Pascal would’ve been. However, this silent language of his was part of what made him interesting and, to her, made him seem like that much more of a puzzle to solve.
And she likedpuzzles.
Oh hi there.
Properly posting this now, here on my fanfic Tumblr.
Title: Lhant Family Moments
Rating:T
Pairing/Character: Richard/Asbel, Asbel/Cheria (very light), Sophie, Lambda, other characters
Spoilers: Yes. Heavy spoilers. Spoilers are fucking EVERYWHERE. Through the whole game, F Arc included.
Words:1052
Status:In-Progress
Summary: Small, fleeting moments in the strange, shared lives of Richard, Asbel, Sophie, Lambda and sometimes Cheria.
Author’s Note: You’re not getting an AN here because everything that needs to be said about this has already been said everywhere I’ve posted this =P.
Alternatively, it’s also under this Read More.
~Lambda Lhant~
It had been a hectic few days. Months, really. Between all the fighting, traveling and long nights in many inns, it was a miracle the party had managed to keep it all together.
But afterwards, after saving the Lastalia, after calming Fodra, when peace had been relatively restored to both worlds (aside from the few remaining Lambda-born and Fodra-born monsters) did the party truly get to rest.
Though they’d all mostly gone their separate ways, most temporarily, they still kept in touch. Asbel made a point to write Richard letters every week, even if there was nothing of interest happening. He wrote letters to Cheria, too, though they were infrequent due to her constant traveling. Most of the time it was her who sent him letters keeping him updated on her travels and well-being. He didn’t mind them, he kind of liked being able to know what was going on in various parts of the world.
Hubert wrote letters, too, though they were almost always short and abrupt. But Asbel didn’t mind. That was just how Hubert was, and sometimes the younger Lhant (because he would always be a Lhant in his heart) would drop by in lieu of writing a letter. More to visit their mother than him, but hey, they’d spent the better part of a year constantly together during the whole escapade with Lambda, so a little bit of distance was preferable.
Sophie remained at the manor to keep Asbel company while awaiting Cheria’s return (or visits from Richard, whichever came first). Despite the sudden change in appearance, the people of Lhant seemed to take her return very well.
Pascal and Malik didn’t keep in touch nearly as much as the others, but he figured that was a given. Both were really busy with their new jobs as the three nations worked to make a peace treaty. Though, Hubert had insinuated that Pascal did keep in touch with him, though he never divulged the conversations. Asbel figured it was some kind of progress, though, even if only a little bit.
It was all kind of surreal, really. The events that transpired to lead to these circumstances and their lives as they were now felt like they had only recently happened despite having occurred months, almost a year ago.
Lambda had surprisingly settled into shared life with relative ease, though very little about their situation had changed. Unlike those first six months, he did talk on occasion. Mostly it was off-hand comments or musings or, if curiosity struck him hard enough, a question. Asbel didn’t mind it at all. It was oddly comforting, in a way. Richard and Sophie and everyone had ceased their worrying about the age-old entity and now he was just…allowed to exist.
Sharing a body made for unique circumstances and perspectives for both parties involved. After the events on Fodra, the two had figured out a system of compromise. Asbel would have full control of his body at all times. In turn, Lambda was allowed to link himself with Asbel’s senses so that he could experience the world without compromising Asbel’s body or mind. Lambda, of course, had brought up the thought that he could take control whenever he wished when Asbel was asleep and helpless, but Asbel just laughed and mentally pat the entity’s head. At the accusation of being mocked, Asbel simply and confidently stated that he trusted Lambda. And though he didn’t admit it, he felt more than saw the entity become flustered.
Another part of their agreement was more a thing of privacy. Just because they were sharing a body and mindspace didn’t mean they couldn’t each have their own private thoughts. Lambda was his own person, after all, and Asbel was…well…Asbel. So they each agreed to never invade on the other’s private thoughts unless invited, nor would they breach a mental wall (in case there were something happening that was meant for Asbel and only Asbel or vice versa) unless it was deemed necessary.
Sometimes he thought of the humanoid boy he’d seen in the flashbacks. Lambda never used that form anymore; that he was aware of at least. Usually when they were both in their shared mindspace, Lambda appeared as the ball of energy that was his weakened true form. But sometimes Asbel couldn’t help but remember the body that was apparently his first. The one they had found at that crash site. It was…kind of sad, really. Though his voice and most of his attitude didn’t suggest it, sometimes Asbel felt that maybe Lambda identified most with that body. That maybe, despite being thousands of years old like Sophie, when he thought of himself he saw the humanoid body of a child.
It was admittedly a little odd, imagining a thousand-year-old entity as a ten-year-old boy. But in a way, Sophie was too, wasn’t she? An ancient being stuck in the body and mindset of what would amount to a child by human standards. It made him think on the future, on the family he would eventually have to start when Cheria got back. Sophie was already their family—had been, really, since they’d found her as kids. But it reminded him, too, about her concerns before they stopped Fodra, about when he’d officially given her his last name to call her own as his adopted daughter. Someday, all she’d have besides his descendants would be Lambda. Just like how Hubert and he would be all they had left once Kerri died. Wouldn’t that technically make Sophie and Lambda…siblings?
It was a strange thought, he’d admit, but it did make sense. When he died, Lambda would have to find another body. And with Sophie living in the manor and Lambda being tied to him…they were all a family already by most standards. And Lambda was their friend, so it’s not like much would change.
The more he thought on it, the more he grew to like the idea, until,
“Hey, Lambda, how would you like to be an official Lhant?”
The entity in question had instantly thrown up a mental wall in retaliation, but just before it went up Asbel felt a mix of embarrassment, confusion, happiness and if the entity had been showing a face, he swears it would’ve been blushing. Asbel took that as a yes.
Was having a shitty evening and then I drew Pascal not even being bothered and then I stopped being bothered.
Here, have a Pascal. Stop being bothered. :D
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Just beat the main storyline to Tales of Graces F! I put almost 80 hours into it, though a good chunk of that was just screwing around, hunting components, looking for sidequests and skits. All in all it was yet another awesome experience from the Tales series. I definitely plan to go and play the epilogue story, and now I just have to hope that they opt to bring Tales of Xillia stateside.
So, I expected them to release some DLC for Tales of Graces F, and they’ve already put out quite a bit. By all accounts, these are some awesome DLC costumes… So coooool. But really, 3.99? For each one? Bwah?
Of course, I’ll likely end up buying them anyway. Particularly that mantastic Malik one. Pretty badass.
- Asbel: Well? Do you remember where you’ve seen them?
- Sophie: Oh! I got it! Peaches look like little butts!
- Asbel: Huh?!
- Sophie: Especially Cheria’s.
- Cheria: Okay, time out! Sophie, we need to talk.
- Sophie: But I just wanted to tell everyone…
