Hi friends! I haven't forgotten about Poor Decisions, I promise. But in the meantime, here's a little snippet from the Lucky Stars universe. For those who are just joining the following, this is a universe where Nebulad's Luca is Hawke, Rees is the Amell heir, and they're in a polyamorous relationship with Fenris and Bela. This fic in particular is Rees/Fenris centric, so for all intents and purposes you don't need to know anything about the Lucky Stars universe.
Anyway, enjoy!
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"Are you ready yet?" Fenris asked impatiently.
Rees didn't dignify the question with a response. Her armour was complicated, intricately designed, and most importantly, she looked fucking terrifying in it. He could wait a goddamn minute for her to strap everything into place. The bladed shoulder plates clinked lightly against her arm bands as she made sure her spiked boots were good and secure. The dual holsters on her back that held her knives only needed blessedly little adjusting to make sure they didn't rub against the boob window she'd made Luca sew into her leathers. Fenris was huffing and rolling his eyes, though she caught the fond look as she looped her trademark red ribbon onto her belt so that the long silky ends would flutter as she wrecked havoc. She raised an eyebrow at him with a small grin and pulled on her greaves.
"You sure you're not going to get squashed out there in your tights and cardboard cut-out armour?" She teased. "If you aren't careful you might skin your knees."
He snorted. "We would be lucky to come away from this with only skinned knees, Mora."
Outside the cave where they had set up camp (eg. picked a particularly flat rock for a nap), a whole host of slavers had started setting up a make-shift port. There was a ship on the horizon, presumably coming for the wagon full of miserable folk in chains. Fenris had wanted to start slitting throats immediately. Rees had put a firm hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. If we wait, she'd said, we can kill the Kirkwall slavers, everyone on that blighted boat, and bring the boat back as an anniversary gift for Bela. That seemed to appease him.
Though waiting hours for the damned vessel to dock had made him twitchy. His fingers tapped anxiously at the hilt of his sword. The handle badly needed new wrappings, Rees took note. She shifted slightly so that her elbow touched his, careful not to jab him with the pointy bit. He blinked down at the contact but didn't mention it. His appreciation was communicated when he stayed still and shared her warmth.
"So." Rees muttered. "Do we have a plan here, or just rush'em?"
The elf balked at her. "You're kidding."
Rees scowled. "What?"
"You have us wait here until we're in a cave surrounded by slavers before you decide to think of strategy?" He hissed. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
"Well I figured we'd just fuckin' kill'em." She grumbled irritably. "I wasn't going to make it fuckin' complicated." He puffed loudly and she sneered. "What, you don't think these toothpicks could actually take you down, do you Goose? Want me to call Luca and tell her you wanna go home early? It's okay to be scared, Fen."
"I am not-"
"It's not like you can literally rip hearts from gaping chest cavities. I'm sure the nice slavers will understand if you wanna sit this one out." He punched her shoulder and she snickered. "Glad to have you back on board, Goose."
The ship's horns let out a bellow low enough to shake the gravel of the Wounded Coast. Slavers waved and hollered, rushing around everywhere with ropes and crates. The wails of the prisoners grew in dissonance. Fenris coiled beside her, his clawed gauntlets digging into the stone they hid behind. She looked at his wrist, suppressing a smile at the short torn and bloodstained ribbon he still wore. He probably hadn't ever washed the damn thing.
Without warning, she hurled herself over the boulder and laughed at the sound of disbelief coming from behind her. "Highest kill count wins!" She yelled over her shoulder.
A blur of blue and white crackling lyrium charged past her knocking a group of three slavers over their own barrels. Wine spilled out between the cracks of the wood and quickly mixed with blood as the Sword of Mercy made an entrance. Rees whooped loudly in celebration and drove her own smaller blades into the pale throat of a young man that had the audacity to stand between her and the cart of prisoners.
She ripped through his skin like wet paper, not stopping to check if he'd fallen before leaping to her next victim. She pushed one blade through his ribcage and twisted the barbed tips. Blood gushed out over her hands, making it harder to keep a grip. While she struggled to pull her knives free, a burly man with a poorly done chest tattoo positioned himself behind her. Twisting her torso, she swung out a leg high enough to catch him in the crevice of his neck. The man made an excellent gurgling sound as the spike in her heel drove through flesh and dropped his metal hammer to the ground as she pulled her foot free.
"Three down!" She called.
Fenris' blade was slung over his shoulder again. He seemed to be taking immense pleasure in just punching the ever loving shit out of the slavers that had swarmed him. But when she called out her total, his fist glowed bright blue and his gauntlet pushed through the eye-sockets of a screaming sailor. He ripped his hand back out and shook off the debris.
"Four down!" He called cheerfully.
Rees grunted and yanked her knives free. The red sash swirled out behind her as she moved quicker and quicker. Instead of stabbing, she slashed at greater speed until she had a gaggle of her own trying to land blows on her from all angles. She popped in and out of sight with stealth, drawing her blades across the throats of those who were getting too close and dragging the sharp edge along the tendons of those brave enough to lash out. A few strikes hit home and the blood she was coated in had a fair portion of her own mixed in. She couldn't tell if she was high on adrenaline or blood loss when she called "Fourteen!"
"What?" Fenris practically squawked. "Impossible!"
Rees spun around again, damaging the circle of thugs around her in one easy swoop. Two more dropped to their knees. She grinned and wiped the blood out of her eyes. "Sixteen!"
Something sharp hit her side and she cried out. Warmth trickled through her leathers. Rees twisted on her heel, ignoring the pain in her gut, and drove the tip of her dagger up through the chin of the offending slaver. Fenris was behind her in a flash, covering her back as she staggered through the rest of the fight and knocking back waves of attacks with one fell swoop. Rees grunted in thanks and he responded only by swearing under his breath.
The last body hit the ground with an unsettling howl of pain and the chorus of the dead or dying sounded more vivid in the stillness. Rees tucked her daggers away and placed a hand over the wound in her side. Fenris had her arm slung around his shoulder faster than she could tell him she was just fine and scooped under her legs even as she glowered.
"Luca needs to see that." He insisted sternly. She rolled her eyes.
"At least let me do what we came here for?" She gestured to the locked cart where the prisoners eyed the blood soaked intruders like death had come for them. Fenris let her down begrudgingly and watched her every move as she picked the lock silently. The people inside backed to the far edge of the cart as if Rees were going to kill them next. She stared at them with cold grey eyes and tucked her dreads behind her ears before she spoke.
"You are free. If you need a job…" She winced and Fenris was at her side. She waved him away. "If you need a job, go to the Hawke Estate. Ask for Luca."
It wasn't anything special as far as speeches went, but Rees wasn't much for words. She allowed him to pick her up again, sagging wearily into his arms as he carried her down towards the Dalish camp again. He made no effort to hide his scowl and she poked it with a bloody spiked finger. "What? Did I say something wrong?"
"You shouldn't be so reckless." He spoke tersely. Rees laughed hard enough to split the wound in her side wide open.
"Sure, sure. Next time I promise I won't charge in daggers first."
"Liar."
"Absolutely."