forum "This was NOT how I thought this day was going to go." (Closed)

Started December 26, 2022 by @emilyevewrites group

tune

Ōn’nyosh burst into laughter at her question.

“Yeah. And, so would I!”he replied, still laughing.

He quickly composed himself as she continued talking. Concern grew in his eyes.

“Farah, just because you have committed wrongs, doesn’t mean the gods will look at you any differently than the millions of other people around. You wonder why I call them idiots. They can never make up their fucking minds. ‘Oh, favor this guy.’ ‘No, that guy.’ ‘Shut up, you. It’s this guy.’ And, in the end, there’s a fucking divine war over some fucking mortal dumbshit who isn’t even aware that their soul is being fought over by a bunch of immortal toddlers that don’t want to share a toy. So what, if they favor you or not? What difference does it make? We’re just ‘mere mortals’. We can make our own lives, whether the gods give two fucks or not,”Ōn’nyosh said.

He shrugged casually,”Just curious. I know I fucking curse a lot. So, sometimes I forget that other people don’t curse as much as me.”

Ōn’nyosh noted her excitement when he mentioned the training yard. So, she was professionally trained. That meant she knew exactly what she was doing, with her magic, and likely with her hands as well. Intriguing…

“Wonderful!”

He watched her closely, trying hard to keep a few fantasies from rising in his head. He might have to volunteer to suffer her wrath at some point. Just as long as he survived, though.

“Of course. I understand that concept quite well. Come,”he said with a snicker, waving for her to follow him. He headed over to his horse, climbing on easily, then headed away from the tavern.

He went back to the large street where they’d turned into the Industrial District, but instead of turning left and going back the way they’d come, he turned right. It was a straight shot to the Army, or Militia, District. He then took a left before they went into the depths of the district, and, after only a twenty minute ride from Stockist’s Bay, they came to a huge training area.

Equipment was scattered all across the area, with small buildings here and there for storage, and to allow those training to have a break. Otherwise, the place was just loose soil and open ground, with trails to make it easier to navigate. A few people were about, but not in any large numbers.

“The Training Yard, milady,”Ōn’nyosh announced with a humorous accent.

Farah's features softened with shock at his words. "I-I… I suppose it doesn't make a difference," she murmured, stammering over her words. "I never thought of it that way before."

Though her expression quickly turned back into its naturally distanced look before she rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes," she muttered, shaking her head. "I'm very aware of that."

The fairy followed his lead easily and mounted her horse again. Her thighs were immediately reminded of their soreness, and Farah bit back a wince. She was pleased with both the efficient timing and the lack of questions. Though she was wary and still prepared for them to come later.

Once she dismounted, Farah tied her horse up and stepped into the training grounds. She barely heard Ōn'nyosh as her eyes swept the area. They began to glow, and at once, a vicious wind picked up and snapped around the open space. After a few seconds, it died down, and Farah looked over her shoulder at Ōn'nyosh with a smirk and an excited glint in her eyes.

"This will do. What shall it be first?"

Ōn’nyosh shrugged lightly, the gentleness from earlier appearing in his eyes.

He then laughed at her next words.

“I love the eye roll,”he said, laughing even more.

Ōn’nyosh dismounted and tied up his horse as well, wandering into the training yard. He then watched Farah start up a powerful wind. He glanced at Farah with a slightly wary look.

“I pity the poor bastard that gets slapped by you. Unless it’s me, then I don’t give a fuck,”Ōn’nyosh commented with a snicker.

He hummed at her question, then shrugged.

“Wherever you want, I guess. This place is huge. We could be here all day before seeing the whole place,”he replied with another shrug.

Farah noted the wary look he shot her way. It made her even more eager to show off her abilities. What Ōn'nyosh had seen was barely a quarter of what she could do with her magic.

His comment only seemed to entice her further. "Are you volunteering?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Without waiting any longer, Farah's eyes swept over the area again and changed to silver-blue again. In the middle of the opening, a small flower began to grow. It sprouted in the middle of the dust where greenery would be otherwise impossible to grow without magic. She focused on the blossom, returning to the emotions she'd felt when Andreas had been trying to cut her down. But instead of letting herself be allowed to feel small, Farah channeled her anger into something bigger.

The flower grew higher and higher until it was a tall stalk in front of their eyes. It twisted and looped around itself as it spiraled upward quickly thanks to Farah's urgency to get out her remaining anger. She was curious as to whether or not Ōn'nyosh was talented with a blade. Taught by Rosalind, Andreas, and Saul, Farah had been molded into a fine swordswoman, and she hoped to challenge Ōn'nyosh to a friendly duel. But with her magic still aching to be released, it wouldn't be a fair fight. She had to let at least most of it out first.

Once the stalk was tall enough for her liking, Farah narrowed her eyes and subtly curled her fingers into fists at her sides. The plant began to quiver before incinerating from the inside and exploding flaming greenery across the arena. Quickly, Farah threw up a barrier to protect herself and Ōn'nyosh from getting burned. Any material that came their way bounced off of the protective barrier, and once everything settled on the ground, Farah lowered the barrier.

However, as a result of burning from the inside, the pieces began to catch the rest of the arena ablaze. Farah's stern expression never wavered as she looked skyward and gathered moisture from the air. She manipulated it into raindrops which fell as a simultaneous sheet over the parts of the arena that were on fire to put it out. Finally, she brought the pieces of her stalk under the ground and buried them soundly so no evidence was left of her magic except for a few char marks on the walls.

Her magic receded, her eyes turned back to brown, and she straightened up with a smile. The burden of her anger was gone, at least for the time being it was. "Brilliant," she murmured. "That feels much better."

Ōn’nyosh looked at her, a bit surprised by her question.

“Am I volunteering to get slapped? Sure. Though, you might get more than you bargained for. Particularly depending on where you slap,”he replied with a chuckle.

He then watched Farah use her magic, awestruck. The flower was beautiful, then it was exploding in an inferno. Warily, he watched the fragments, ready to dodge them. But, he discovered it wasn’t necessary. Farah had put up a shielding barrier to protect both of them. Then, she was calling on rain to stop the fires. All with seeming ease.

“Fucking shit. How powerful are you?”he burst as her magic receded.

Ōn’nyosh had seen plenty of magicians use their magic before. But, not many could manage what Farah had just done. She was certainly unique.

Farah's expression didn't change, but when she looked away from him, a light blush appeared on her cheeks. She didn't want to be thinking the way Ōn'nyosh was influencing her to think.

But she incorporated it into the release of her magic, letting go of her embarrassment, anger, and irritation in one fell swoop. Farah was even slightly breathless after her demonstration. It had been a while since she'd called that many different kinds of magic all at once.

The fairy looked over at Ōn'nyosh at his exclamation and question. "I'm the most powerful fairy in the Otherworld," she answered simply and quietly. Her eyes appraised him as she tried to figure out how much of a threat he posed to her now that he knew of her strength and power.

Ōn’nyosh watched her turn away, eyes narrowing slightly. He knew she was hiding her reaction, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he couldn’t help a sly grin.

When she finished, he noticed how breathless she was. It was inspiring, and it took little effort for his thoughts to drift into other ways of making Farah breathless. Fuck, she was a fine woman. Her answer only fueled his attraction to her. Gorgeous and powerful. Ōn’nyosh couldn’t think of a better combination.

“Well, I don’t know the Otherworld, but damn. That actually explains a lot. Though, for fuck’s sake, please tell me that you don’t know a blue reptilian asshole named Lucitius. He’s extremely powerful as well, but, unlike you, he’s equally fucking annoying,”Ōn’nyosh said.

Farah arched an eyebrow. "No, I'm afraid I'm not familiar. Is he from this world?"

Maybe it was Farah's slight fatigue from using immense amounts of her magic, maybe it was the stress relief of letting out all of her negative emotions, or maybe it was just that Ōn'nyosh had earned a small amount of her trust. But whatever it was, the next words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"If you wanted, you could come with me," Farah offered. "Back through the gateway. You could help me make sure Andreas gets to Luna, you could explore a bit and meet some of my friends, and then you could go back."

Ōn’nyosh breathed a dramatic sigh of relief.

“No. Lucitius is technically a roaming demigod, or whatever the fuck. He created a reptilian race, and there’s a few tribes living on Narsenshard. Trust me, you don’t want to meet him. He’s a fucking asshole, and he’s fucked in the head too. His wife can barely handle him. At least… I think she’s his wife. I don’t know really know her. I just know ol’ Shit King of Lizards,”Ōn’nyosh replied.

His eyebrow rose at her words and he chuckled.

“I’d be honored to join you, especially if it means getting rid of Shit-Beard. And, I’m always up to exploring new places,”Ōn’nyosh replied with a smile.

“Though, we still have plans for drinks after this. And, depending on how drunk we get, I do have a room at a particularly good inn where we could sleep it off. I’m fine with sleeping on the floor if you don’t want to share the bed. I’ve slept on worse,”he added.

Farah shook her head and laughed softly at his description of Lucitius. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I trust your judgment," she murmured, glancing at him again.

And she returned Ōn'nyosh's smile at his acceptance of her offer. "Of course," she added, referring to their drinks. "I didn't forget. That sounds fine, but I'm not sure we'll be needing it. It won't be necessary." Rather, she hoped it wouldn't be necessary. She just wanted a few drinks to relax. She didn't intend on actually getting drunk.

"Are you skilled with a blade?" Farah asked suddenly, turning to face him and arching her eyebrows in an unspoken challenge.

Ōn’nyosh laughed,”I’m glad! Few do, until they meet the fucker. Oh, and speaking of, he’s really hard to fucking miss. He’s obsessed with electricity, and all of his body is, literally, fucking blue. The so-called ‘originality’ of his fucking style is horrifying.”

His smile grew, then he snickered.

“Hopefully it won’t be necessary. But, knowing my dumb ass, it’s a possibility. I’ll try to keep myself in check, but I’m notorious for failing in that regard, so just fair warning,”he replied.

Ōn’nyosh then paused, his eyebrow raising in amused incredulity. He then chuckled.

“Okay, for your sake, I’ll skip the massive opening for an obnoxious comment there, and instead say ‘yes’. Almost all Narsenian jesters are skilled with some kind of weapon, and almost all of those usually keep a stash of weapons on them, including me. Why do you ask? Planning a little sparring match, are you?”he answered with a grin.

(Foreshadowinggggg)

Farah rolled her eyes slightly. She didn't plan on getting drunk. Definitely not in a world that she didn't know and definitely not with Ōn'nyosh. Who knew what would happen if she let herself lose control around him.

"I'll keep you in check," she retorted as if it were that simple.

The fairy frowned, missing what the obnoxious comment would be before letting herself smirk slightly at his acceptance. She arched her eyebrows and studied him plainly. "Only if you're up for it," she replied, lifting her chin slightly,

(Lmao!)

Ōn’nyosh chuckled,”That’s going to be harder than you think.”

He snickered at her frown, then grinned wider.

“Are you up for it?”he asked.

Ōn’nyosh pulled out his dagger, flipping it in his fingers. His grin became mischievous.

“So… daggers?”he asked.

He snickered slyly, then reached to his other hip, which appeared to have nothing on it. Until he grabbed something seemingly solid and unsheathed a beautiful light blue rapier with a silver hilt. The invisible scabbard finally appeared now that the rapier was unsheathed, dark blue runes covering the entire thing.

“Or swords?”he asked.

He flipped the dagger a particular way, and it abruptly grew into a shortsword. He held both swords easily at his side, waiting patiently for Farah’s reply.

Farah arched an eyebrow and shook her head. "I've dealt with Andreas before. Believe me, you can't be much worse of a drunkard than him. He's as worse as they come."

Her eyes caught the moment the scabbard became visible once Ōn'nyosh unsheathed the rapier and widened. "You have magic?" she asked, tilting her head inquisitively.

"Please," she murmured, eyeing his blades as the dagger grew in length. The magic surprised her again. "Swords will do."

Ōn’nyosh hummed, then shrugged.

“Well, maybe the ‘how many drinks’ part isn’t the problem, even though it easily can be. It might be the ‘what I do when I’m drunk’ part that’s the issue. You’ll see what I mean later,”he said with a chuckle.

He snickered at her question, grinning.

“Farah, most of everything I’m wearing is magical. I, personally, am not a practitioner whatsoever, but I fucking love magic items,”he said.

He grinned at her words, then skipped a few steps away. He spun his blades in his hands as he turned to Farah.

“Now, show me your swords,”he bade, still grinning.

Farah was curious, while also wary, but she didn't press the conversation further. She supposed Ōn'nyosh was right. She would just have to find out later.

"Interesting," she remarked simply, studying his attire with her brown gaze and wondering what it all did. But before she could ask about any of it, he was already heading away from her.

"I can't make swords appear out of thin air," she countered. Her eyes glanced over to a rack of swords along one of the walls. Her eyes glowed, and the sword flew through the air into her grip. She inspected the blade before summoning a second weapon to her other hand and looked up at him. "Here they are."

Ōn’nyosh noticed her look and gave her a sly grin. He didn’t say anything, but he was clearly brimming with perverted thoughts and jokes.

“That’s a pity. I just did, and I don’t even know magic,”he remarked with a playful smile, teasing her.

He then watched her in fascination as she called a sword, then another, over to her. The way she inspected them revealed her expertise with swords. She was trained, properly. Intriguing.

“So, what’s the rules, if there is any? And, how will the winner be determined?”he asked with his mischievous grin.

Farah looked back at his face and saw the grin. With a start, she'd realized exactly what she'd just been doing – or at least what it had looked like she'd been doing – and she couldn't help the soft blush that rose on her face in response. But her eyes flashed with the challenge in his words.

"You did not make the swords appear," she countered fluidly. "Someone else's magic did. You are simply the wielder lucky enough to possess such fine craftsmanship."

The fairy looked amused by his grin. "Yes, I suppose we should lay out the parameters before we begin," she remarked. "Nothing severed, obviously. And that is up to you." Under Rosalind, Farah always sparred until first blood. Whether it was a tiny nick or… The scar on her left forearm prickled uncomfortably. Farah repressed the feeling.

When Ōn’nyosh noticed the flush, he burst into a fit of snickering. Damn, she was modest! He knew that she had been just looking at his clothes, but he had to fuck with her. He couldn’t resist. And, now, he was pondering how he could get her to show off her perverted side.

His snickering became full out laughter at her counter.

“Okay, you’ve got me there. But, yes, I do possess this magic, thus I am its ‘practitioner’. And, you never know, I might be a magician in disguise,”he said jokingly, pointing his rapier dramatically at her.

“Yeah, that’d be preferable. I agree with that wholeheartedly. I like having all my limbs still attached. And… hmm… First blood? Nothing too major, though, if possible. Particularly with this scary bitch,”he replied, holding up his rapier to indicate what ‘scary bitch’ he was referring to.

“She has a tendency of being a little too thirsty. And, I like you too much to hurt you like that,”he added vaguely.

Farah shook her head at his joke. "I would be able to tell if you had access to magic. I know for a fact that you don't, Ōn'nyosh, so quit trying to bluff."

The fairy inhaled shortly as he suggested first blood. The scar on her left arm seemed to burn through her clothes, wanting to make itself visible. She remembered, in vivid detail, the look on Andreas's face when he drew the blade across her skin. And the look on Rosalind's.

"First blood will do," Farah replied evenly while studying her blade again. She glanced up at his words. "Is that so?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, fuck. Just ruin the fun, why don’t you,”Ōn’nyosh replied with an amused snort.

He noted her inhale, and he paused, gazing at her with a bit of concern. He didn’t want to push her, but nor did he want a repeat of Andreas’ game to happen. He wasn’t always good at subtlety though.

“If you’re not fine with something, just let me know. And, don’t fucking hide it like earlier. I will fucking drop my weapons right now if you do,”he mentioned.

He wasn’t completely convinced by her words, particularly since she seemed to be momentarily avoiding his eyes. But, he snickered at his question.

“Indeed. There’s a reason I keep this cold-hearted bitch hidden,”Ōn’nyosh replied, still being vague. He wasn’t used to openly talking about his prized rapier, for good reason. It was extremely valuable, and could very easily be extremely deadly.

Farah rolled her eyes slightly. "I've been told I'm good at that," she quipped in return.

The fairy noted his concern and sighed. "First blood unsettles me," she admitted quietly. Her eyes glanced around to make sure no one else was watching before she stepped a bit closer to him to close the distance and briefly abandoned her swords to pull up the sleeve of her blouse. The pale scar stood out and run the entire length of her forearm. "First blood allowed this to happen," she stated, her expression unwavering.

Ōn’nyosh grinned,”We cancel each other out. I make the fun, you destroy it… or… ahem… anyway. And, that’s how the world is born.”

His concern grew and he watched her closely. When she abandoned her swords, he sheathed his rapier and turned his shortsword back into a dagger before doing the same. He eyed the scar, then gently grabbed Farah’s arm to better look at it.

For some reason, his mind drifted to Andreas. Ōn’nyosh didn’t really know anything about the man and his past with Farah, but something nagged at him about this scar. And, he already hated the prick as it was.

“I’m going to make a guess here. Was Shit-Beard holding the blade that did this?”he asked quietly, his tone serious.

Farah's breath hitched as he grabbed her, despite the touch being gentle, and her arm tensed like she was going to try and pull out of his grip. However, she didn't move other than her eyes, which studied his reaction intently.

She didn't speak her reply. Instead, her eyes changed colors, and she projected a memory into Ōn'nyosh's mind. It played through his vision and hearing as if it was the present moment, though the only difference was that it was like he was watching the scene play out as though hovering in the air next to the memory instead of watching it through Farah's own eyes.

A short but intensely commanding woman paced around the edge of a training mat. She was 5'5" and had blonde hair that was pulled back into a tight ponytail. The clothing she wore was best described as "casual militaristic." Her icy blue eyes swept over a grouping of four individuals, two of which Ōn'nyosh would recognize.

A younger version of Farah, though much more visibly anxious than the one he was currently with, stood beside an athletic-looking man slightly taller than her with shortly cropped black hair and blueish-gray eyes. On her other side was a younger version of Andreas looking no less cocky than the man they'd currently witnessed moments ago. Beside Andreas was another man who was Farah's height. He was bald and had gentle-looking brown eyes.

"Today's spars will be in pairs. Fairies will team up with a Specialist and work together to defeat the other team. First blood," the short blonde stated sharply. "As always." Her eyes narrowed, taking in the four. "Dowling, you'll be partnered with Silva. Ben, you're with Andreas."

"Yes, Rosalind," they spoke in agreement. Younger Farah looked relieved by the pairings, as did the black-haired man beside her, Saul Silva. The other man, Ben, looked over at Andreas to speak to him, but Andreas was busy staring at Farah and giving Saul little looks, which the other man was ignoring.

Soon, the spar had commenced. The fairies used their magic to keep each other at bay while the Specialists clashed blades in the center of the training mat. Farah and Saul worked with incredible chemistry and seemed to be gaining an edge against Andreas and Ben.

But suddenly, Andreas's earth fairy teammate managed to grow a vine that snared Saul's ankle and wrapped up around his legs to immobilize him. With the other Specialist subdued, Andreas ran hard at Farah. The young fairy was caught off guard, torn between defending herself and helping Saul. She made a decision and reached out to her own Specialist partner while calling his name. "Saul!"

That was the moment Andreas seized to draw his blade up her skin from her wrist to her elbow. Farah's eyes widened, and she staggered away from him. The wound gushed blood, and she crumpled slowly to her knees in shock.

Rosalind watched the fight with a narrowed gaze, and without a word, she turned and walked away.

Farah quickly drew the memory away before it could continue, and she eased her arm out of Ōn'nyosh's grip. "Does that answer your question?" she asked almost inaudibly.

(This is actually the first time I’ve ever written Ōn’nyosh holding back his anger, lol)

Ōn’nyosh immediately noticed her reaction to his touch and he lightened his grip, barely even holding her arm, in case she wanted to take it away from him.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a training scar, but it was the first one that saddened him, truly. Such a straight, seamless line, but full of pain and suffering. Ōn’nyosh didn’t need to ask to know that. He just wanted to figure out who had caused it, so he could break the fucker’s jaw.

When her eyes changed, Ōn’nyosh immediately guessed she was about to use her magic. He didn’t know why though. Until he was in the memory.

Reflexively, his hands tightened around her arm to steady himself, but he watched the memory, studying every detail, memorizing every name. His hatred for Andreas grew tenfold at the sight.

When Farah withdrew, Ōn’nyosh blinked. He then gently released Farah’s arm to massage his temples, trying to ward away his disorientation. He heard Farah, barely, but he didn’t react until a few moments later when the disorientation finally faded.

“I’m going to fucking spit in his other eye. Then skin him. Then cut his balls off and shove them up his ass… Maybe I’ll introduce him to Boromaxus too. That big, red bastard probably hasn’t fucked anything in centuries. And, Ass-Beard said he’d never seen a dragon before, so…”Ōn’nyosh mumbled irritably, speaking his thoughts aloud.

He cleared his throat and took a couple deep breaths to ease his anger. Then, he turned to Farah, his demeanor gentle but solemn.

“It does. And, I’m sorry I asked. That fucking shit-eating, cocksucking, brainless bastard has been in need of a good castration for a very long time, or worse. And, if he ever fucking touches you, or looks at you wrong, again, his dick is going to meet my rapier, the steel one, not the fun one. And, I will cut a fucking artery,”Ōn’nyosh said.

He shook his head and sighed, rubbing his temples again, unconsciously fidgeting and swaying in an attempt to alleviate the angry tension in his limbs. Even his tongue was involved, flicking in and out every few moments.