AN: So. I'm still alive, guys! I know I've been inactive on here recently. I've had a lot of work for my degree and some for work in general. I'm part of the efforts to start a cosplay society at my university. And I've had too many technical difficulties to count (including a very scary coursework moment... two in fact.)
But it's really no excuse.
I've got several chapters partway done for you and some new fics gestating that I may post.
But for now, here's a little light-hearted Kharlan one-shot that came to be at 3am.
Mithos had never hated anything more. Discrimination against half-elves was a like a fly buzzing around his head, a mild irritation in comparison to the swarm of whopping great locusts that represented his hatred for this particular act. At times like this, he actually considered finding whoever came up with this and ensuring they could never create such a monstrosity ever again.
But Martel had chosen to do this so his hands were tied.
They were having a night of Mizuhoan cuisine. Martel had bought all of the ingredients especially.
She had also procured chopsticks.
The bane of Mithos's existence.
For all his summoning ability, all his intelligence and all his determination, he could not successfully grab a reasonable amount of noodles and get them into his mouth for Exire. Just a couple of minutes ago, he had decided that speed and force were two important factors and that if he stabbed into his dish and got the noodles out quickly enough, he would be winning.
What had actually happened was that miso soup had splashed onto the table as the chopsticks plunged into the bowl, his noodles had been flung over his shoulder as he epically missed his mouth and he'd knocked his drink off of the table in a bid to catch the noodles.
Even Martel had laughed at him. He'd thought Kratos was going to choke.
And worse, Martel had berated him for lacking patience and potentially staining a carpet that wasn't theirs to stain on her way to locate emergency cleaning supplies, because apparently, him putting a towel on it wasn't enough.
The scowl on his face could not get any deeper. It simply wasn't possible.
"Shut up!" he muttered sulkily as Yuan continued to chuckle, while Kratos gulped water like they were back in Triet.
He watched as Yuan returned to his noodles, grabbed a perfect amount and held the loaded chopsticks aloft. He then turned to Mithos with a smirk, made a sweeping gesture with the chopsticks and said in an overly excited voice, "Here comes the rheaird!"
All previous records for the depth of a scowl were broken. Mithos' eyes widened in shock then settled into a deadly glare of pure indignation. He opened his mouth, an angry retort filling his lungs, only to remain there as he had to clamp his mouth shut to avoid the 'rheaird'.
"Open the hangar to let it in," Yuan cajoled in the same sing-song voice.
Kratos snorted.
Mithos turned deep red, a wash of embarrassment and fury, and spat, "I'm not-"
The 'Rheaird' landed.
Mithos had half a mind to spit its cargo in Yuan's face. But that would be rude; Martel had cooked it and he didn't want to offend her.
So he settled for glaring hard enough that he had a chance of causing Yuan's hair to spontaneously combust, chewed angrily and aimed a kick at Yuan's calf under the table.
In response, Yuan smiled and loaded another 'rheaird'.
"I'm not five!" Mithos spat.
Yuan blinked, a smirk visibly fighting for control over his face as he returned his chopsticks to the ramen. Not in disgrace, but to reload it with more noodles than Mithos would ever want to fit in his mouth at once.
The 'rheaird' began to 'fly' towards Mithos once more with a soft "whoosh" from Yuan.
Mithos held his hand over his mouth and snapped, "Keep you damn noodles to yourself."
Yuan held his own hand over his mouth, mimicked static and said, "This is your captain speaking. Requesting permission to land."
'Sod off,' Mithos replied.
A silly falsetto followed, "Oh no, we're running out of fuel."
The 'rheaird' circled Mithos' dish. Mithos said nothing.
Kratos chipped in, "I would just accept the food, Mithos. You only have a limited number of years before you have to be gravely injured to incite someone to feed you."
"I don't want it," Mithos stated in clipped tones, his temper rising steadily to the point where even the knowledge that Martel would be coming in soon and would be unhappy that he'd cast a spell at Yuan again could scarcely stop him. At the moment, he was imagining a nice fireball eating away that man's beloved hair.
Mock shock and horror filled Yuan's face. "But the rheaird has to land!"
Mithos started to quiver with rage. "Oh for the love of- I don't want your stupid noodles!"
"Fine," Yuan replied. "We're altering course."
He turned the chopsticks with another whoosh, flying the 'rheaird' towards Kratos. "Requesting permission to land."
"Permission granted."
Kratos obediently opened his mouth and allowed Yuan to load the heap of noodles into it. Mithos' fury ebbed, his head shaking slightly as he went back to trying to deal with his chopsticks. The click of Yuan's against his dish again made him look up with a glare at the ready.
"Mithos-"
"No," Mithos shot down that rheaird before it could even fly.
Yuan loaded it anyway.
"Seriously," Mithos stressed.
"Are you not hungry? So far, I think I've seen you eat about seven noodles in total. One by one," Yuan reasoned, the noodles already gripped in his chopsticks, a reasonable portion this time.
Mithos' face flushed with embarrassment and he took an angry grab at some noodles with his chopsticks. The chopsticks clattered together with a load of noodles between them. Said noodles slithered back into his remaining miso soup as soon as he lifted them. Mithos eyed them distastefully.
"I won't even make it a rheaird this time," Yuan added, sincerely.
"No," Mithos replied darkly. "I will not be beaten by my noodles!"
To punctuate this, he successfully grabbed a single noodle and sloppily got it in his mouth.
"Suit yourself, another rheaird for Kratos" Yuan replied, flying the noodles over to Kratos again. "Look, he's not complaining."
Kratos shook his head, raising a hand to his mouth to mumble through the noodles he was still chewing, "Hangar full; you have to circle."
Yuan nodded with a determined expression and answered, "Roger that!" before looping the loaded chopstick around with a cry of, "Neeeeoooongggg."
Martel stopped mid-step in the doorway. "What in the world is going on here?"
The 'rheaird' halted in midair. Yuan's elbow dropped to the table to support it as he replied, "Mithos wouldn't let the rheaird land when it was running out of fuel."
Said blonde's glare rose from his dish to the blue-haired 'captain', while Martel simply raised one eyebrow.
Yuan rolled his eyes, a smirk at his lips, as he added, "Thankfully the pilot changed course."
Kratos swallowed, finishing seriously, "A terrible crisis was averted."
AN: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it... And any kind of feedback is much appreciated!