Pre DoSaB
Characters: Liraz, Hazael, Akiva (mentioned); about age 16
First Written: Sept. 29, 2013
Rewritten: Nov. 25, 2013
Wordcount: 829
**I have no idea when Seraphim start going on actual missions or how many tattoos they would have at this age, just throwing that out there.
I had this fic idea after I drew this, and never got around to finishing it. I opened the file up today, cringed, and rewrote it. I haven't written fanfic in almost six years, and this is my first DoSaB one, so ya.
Liraz wasn't sure how long she had remained awake, but she presumed it had to be close to midnight. Or later. Maybe even before. How were they even supposed to keep time at night, out in the open? She curled farther into herself, pulling her blanket over her shoulders and wings. She could make out the dim glow of other Misbegotten wings in the moonlit dark, and she wondered if any of them were having trouble sleeping. She dared to look at the sister moons, the goddesses of Chimaera lore. Were they angry at her for what she had done earlier that day?
Why do I even care? she thought. They're just a myth. I feel no shame. None.
Sighing, she glanced over her shoulder at Hazael, who was lying on his back, wings and limbs splayed. Her brother's snores were not loud, but rather like a suffocating cat, and she sighed. There was no way she was going to get any sleep tonight. Not with his noise and her adrenaline still pounding through her veins.
They had been on a scouting mission that morning, Liraz and Hazael's third mission overall. Akiva had been stationed elsewhere, to Liraz's worry, though she had not expressed this to anyone. She thought Hazael may have suspected—since he knew everything about her without even trying—but he did not say anything of it. Not until later, when they were treating wounds from a Chimaera ambush.
"I worry about him too, you know," Hazael had said, wrapping a bandage around Liraz's sword arm. She hissed at the touch, but quickly sucked it back in.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Liraz had said, sitting straight and looking forward.
"Don't play tough girl with me," Hazael had said, smiling slightly. He tightened the bandage, but Liraz didn't make a sound as pain shot up her arm and shoulder. A Chimaera had grazed her with its claws, causing her to lose her balance, and ironically, that had saved her. "You miss Akiva. This is the first time we've been separated from him for such a long time."
Liraz nodded. "I'm sure he's fine," she said.
But what if he's not? I could have been killed today, by that Chimaera. My arm could have been ripped right off, and I would have bled to death. If Hazael hadn't shown up with the Commander…
She noticed Hazael staring at her, his lips pinched in a tiny, lazy smile. "What?" she asked, eyes narrowing.
Her brother shrugged and rose, not offering to help her, because he knew she hated that. They had then gone to supper, and no talk of Akiva or ambush Chimaera had been brought up since.
But Liraz thought of Akiva then, and she sighed, grasping strands of grass in her fist. She missed Akiva, as she would miss Hazael if he was the one gone instead. They were all she had. All she cared about. If they died…
Don't, she thought. No one's going to die.
But Misbegotten died all the time, and no one mourned them. No one cared if tools died. New ones could be bought all the time. Or rather, in the Misbegotten's predicament, new ones could be conceived.
She felt a fluttering against one of her wings, and she looked over again to see Hazael had rolled onto his side, facing her. He was no longer snoring, just breathing steadily, lip parted. His fingertips grazed her feathers, and he murmured something almost too low to hear.
"Lir…" he said, and Liraz rolled onto her other side to face him. His hand fell flat on the ground, and he started snoring again. Liraz sighed and picked up his hand, looking over the calloused knuckles and fingers. He already had several tally marks from the few missions they had accompanied. Liraz had more, about fifteen.
Hazael's fingers coiled around hers, and she sucked in a breath, but he didn't wake. A childlike smile formed on his lips, and he sank further into sleep, his shoulders relaxing. He had held her hand often when they were children, not because he was frightened, but as a reassurance. He had tried to hold Akiva's hand as well, and their brother took it with less reluctance than Liraz had. When Hazael had first tried it with her, she'd slapped him away for such childishness. But he'd taken it anyway, and Akiva's, standing in the middle and refusing to let go.
"We're a chain," he had said, grinning.
Liraz had jerked her hand away moments later, grumbling about "stupid kid stuff". Deep down, she regretted that, because for a moment Hazael had appeared hurt, but the grin had returned seconds after. Always grinning, Hazael. They had been about six then, and even now, at sixteen, that stupid smile never left him even in sleep.
Liraz eventually nodded off to sleep, her fingers laced around Hazael's, and her dreams were peaceful for the first time in years.