Somewhat-belated merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone. :)
Responses:
Ophianara Blade: Hey there! Thank you! :) And yes, we'll have a discussion between him and his father that'll help clear up some of what's going on. Hopefully Levianath can handle it. :D
Zarabethe: We can expect nothing less from those two. xD
CherryMountain: Huh, basically the only parts I updated in this chapter were the 'potato peeling' and 'confessions'. But yes! Next chapter is Stormwind, as long as my plans follow through with the writings. :D
Kintara: Of course, kitchen punishment MUST be potatoes! It's the rules!
Raftina: Haha! 3 imps indeed! And Sarion vs. Levianath is going to be really interesting, in my opinion. I'm not sure how anyone else will take it, but it's... different. I'm really excited.
ToxicStar: Oh it was DEFINITELY loaded! Bwahaha!
Willowstar: Well, uh, the thing is, upon finishing this chapter, any ideas of a love triangle are all but hurled out the window. xD Because of Levianath and...well, I'll let you read it.
So, forewarning, this chapter gets a little steamy. I mean, depending on how you define steamy. It's only T-rated, but I got carried away. Upon editing, I ended up taking some parts out, if that says anything.
Also, this is a long chapter. I had a whole lot more but cut it in half. Sorry to those of you who don't prefer the long chapters!
Levianath inhaled abruptly as he awoke, feeling exceptionally nauseous, and he blinked his eyes and sat up. His surroundings were completely dark; he'd last night taken up residence on Julian's floor for the time being (seeing as Captain Darkrunner was back, Levianath had refused to stay in the man's cabin), and for some reason sleeping on that floor, combined with the rocking of the ship, evidently gave him immense seasickness.
He let out a heavy breath and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he stared through the dark, his emerald green eyes piercing the shadows. He glanced to the side. Julian was snoozing in his bed, curled in the fetal position. The boy had worked in the kitchen all evening with Reece as 'penance,' though Levianath was fairly sure neither of them had minded it all that much. He knew the captain had given them the task to keep them out of further trouble, more than anything else.
The ship then surged over a particularly great swell in the ocean, and he held his breath a moment as his stomach seemed to do the same. Once he felt well enough to stand, he hoisted himself up and left the room. He needed fresh air.
He could hear music, something he hadn't heard in a while. Sounded like the mixture of a flute and some sort of stringed instrument. It was a lively tune, and as he came upon the central room beneath the deck, he saw a crowd of workers. He started to walk by many of the deckhands standing around below deck and then paused once he'd passed them, glancing back toward the crowd. They were all lounging about, not sleeping, but relaxing and enjoying the music, which was being played by two simple workers. A good majority were smoking one way or another, and a few pairs of eyes, female and male, met Levianath's when he turned around.
Levianath locked eye contact with one man, a human who appeared not a day over thirty, and approached him calmly. The man sent Levianath a nonchalant nod of acknowledgement, and Levianath him.
"How did you come to be on this ship?" Levianath asked the human plainly.
The guy sniffed once and wiped his nose on the crook of his elbow, and leaned his back against a beam, sitting on a pile of crates with one leg swinging down and the other propped up.
"Cap'n Darkrunner," he retorted. "That man saved me life."
Levianath squinted his eyes and glanced at a woman beside the man. "And you?"
"Ditto. Most of us was slaves 'til he showed his handsome face and took us in."
"And are you permitted to leave his employment at any time?"
"'Course!" piped a Troll from the left, standing up straight (or as straight as most Trolls stand) and approaching Levianath. "But why would we? Captain Darkrunner be da best thing dat ever happened to any of us. Gave us shelter 'n food, gave us purpose and family." The Troll's slanted yellow eyes seemed to be smiling themselves.
"Gave you family?" Levianath echoed.
"Aye," cut in the woman. "Family. We may bicker and want to kill one another on occasion, but this crew's my family, through thick and thin."
Many of the surrounding sailors began to jeer and laugh at her teasingly, a few of them faking overdramatic tears, and she simply laughed and shoved one or two of them when they crowded her in their antics. She shook her head at one guy who'd been laughing at her the loudest.
"Even you, Rodney, you big teddy bear!"
The one she'd called Rodney, a massive human with skin the color of the night sky, let out a booming laugh and reached out and pulled her into what looked like a mixture between a hug and a choke hold, thus beginning a brawl. As they began to grapple and the surrounding pirates began to cheer and shout, Levianath heard a voice sound at his ear.
"I see you've met the A.M. crew," he recognized the dry-yet-musical tone of Fiammetta and turned his head. He had half a mind to avert his gaze when he met the Troll's intense stare. Even though she seemed in a friendly mood, those eyes of hers gave him an electric jolt every time he caught them. It was simultaneously incredibly attractive and equally terrifying.
But, he kept eye contact and even offered a subtle smile. "What are you doing awake?"
"I rarely sleep," she answered simply.
He watched her a moment longer, and she spoke again.
"You look pale. Are you sick?"
"A little nausea is all."
She beckoned him with one finger to follow and took him into a storage room, then pulled out a jar, uncapped it, and handed him a thin slice of what was inside. It smelled strongly of spice, burning his nose a little.
"Ginger," she said. "Eat it. It will help."
He popped the slice in his mouth. The taste was strong, almost overpowering, but hopefully effective. He sent her a nod of thanks as he chewed it slowly, the root's fibers surprisingly juicy.
She nodded back. "Well, I'm glad I found you awake. Come, I'd like to show you something."
He followed her, leaving behind the sounds of brawling and music below as they went above deck and into the night air. A few workers kept at the sails and the wheel, but all seemed to be calm and quiet. The two were in solitude, and the unseen sailors paid no heed to them. Fiammetta led him over to one edge of the ship, then stopped and turned toward him.
He sent her a playful smirk. "You're not tossing me over the side, are you?"
Her brows lifted for a moment as if seriously considering, and then she just shook her head.
"Come," she beckoned with her hand and turned toward the water again.
Levianath peered out over the endless, vast body of water surrounding them on all sides. There was nothing but water as far as he could see, its surface reflecting the light of the diamond-like stars flickering in the sky. A strong wind had caught the sails overhead, and it played at both Levianath's and Fiammetta's long, dark hair.
Levianath followed the direction she'd pointed and stared hard into the water, but saw nothing. "What is it?"
"The moon is full," she commented, nodding her head toward the massive globe in the night sky. "When the moon is full, the sea sprites emerge. Look there," she pointed down into the water.
Levianath looked again, and then he finally saw what it was she was talking about. Just under the surface, a glimmer of gold, and then an iridescent purple and shimmer of green. He began to see them everywhere, filling the water and darting about at random, making way for the ship and following alongside it. As he leaned both hands against the railing, he felt himself staring, losing himself in watching the surface of the water shine and shimmer and move in a complicated dance. It was one of the most fascinating, beautiful things he'd ever seen, and he didn't understand it at all. He'd never seen the water spirits before; matter of fact, he'd never heard of them. He felt like witnessing this was a gift that not many people were lucky enough to receive.
Finally one of the sprites broke the surface, leaping out of the water in an ethereal, gleaming explosion of color before dipping back under. Levianath, after watching for a while, realized that a smile had stretched across his face, and he turned his gaze to Fiammetta only to find out she'd been watching him, not the water. He let out a laugh.
"This is… superb. Thank you for showing me."
He had no idea why she was being so polite to him now. Up until this point, she had been all 'do this, do that,' and Miss Bossy-Pants. Of course, a part of him was irresistibly attracted to 'Miss Bossy-Pants,' but that was entirely beside the point. His level of attraction to her bossiness was on par with an equal level of irritation. Either way, his feelings regarding her were fairly potent.
She smiled back at him, and immediately his eyes fell to her tusked lips. That true smile on her face was one of the most pleasant things he'd ever had the gift of witnessing, and it stole the words from his mouth. She'd just transformed from straight from stark, serious Fiammetta to some wild, free, exotic creature, with nothing more than a quirk of her lips.
A further surprise washed over him when she let her hand fall on his on the railing. Her fingers were warm against his own, as Trolls tended to be, and callused in many places yet still soft. This was a new Fiammetta, and Levianath had no idea how to react to it, nor did he know where this conversation was headed. He couldn't think straight, not with the combination of the breathtaking look on her face, plus her hand on his stealing his focus. No other person had ever had such an effect on him as she did right now, not even the woman he'd once married.
She stared at him intensely as always, her smile fading but remaining within her eyes. "I overheard the 'conversation' between you and your father."
He let out a breath, glancing down at the water again. "That so?" He felt himself putting up walls immediately and resisted the urge to pull his hand out from under hers. Something about her set her apart from anyone else he knew, and part of him understood that that was a good thing. He didn't want to push her away, despite every past experience he'd had telling him to do so.
"He has his reasons not to trust people, just like you do," she finally said. "The whole issue about you imitating him… It's happened before."
The half-elf's dark brows tightened. "What do you mean?"
"He's had impersonators in the past. He is a coveted, powerful figure and has a lot to lose. You're not the first one he's caught. I'm not saying that excuses him from what he did, but I will say he was justified in his distrust."
A few seconds of silence fell, and the Troll cleared her throat.
"If there is one difference between the two of you that I can clearly see, it is that his past has shaped him to rely on those he calls family, and that yours has shaped you to rely solely upon yourself. You two cannot appreciate one another until you recognize and accept that you're opposites. You will be fire and oil without that understanding. I've already seen that much. Wraith genuinely wants to form a bond with you, one he feels robbed of after not knowing you existed your entire life. I can say with full certainty that had the man known of you, he'd have gone to Stormwind and sought you out without hesitation. He did not choose to neglect you."
Levianath stared at the sprites as they danced about under the moonlight, mulling over Fiammetta's words.
She sighed, and continued, "And although you may not want anything to do with him specifically, there is far more for you here than an attempt at mending a scattered family."
As if on cue, another sprite shot out of the water right next to the boat, flashing up in front of the two of them in a glittery mirage of vibrant, reflective colors, and then dropped down into the water.
"And what is it you believe is here for me?" he turned to her, his voice weaker than he'd intended. He was fully aware of her hand on his still, distracting him, and he offered a delicate smile with one side of his mouth as he pulled his hand from hers and stuffed both his hands in his pockets. "I can only think of a small handful of things that I truly want, and only one of those is on this ship."
She appeared lost. "That being?"
He gained a somewhat playful edge and tilted his head to the side slightly as he stared at her. "Take a guess."
He saw her eyes flicker to an understanding, and a slight smirk fell into place. "Oh."
Levianath waited a second, tuning into her confusion. "I know, I know what you're thinking: where did that come from? We're supposed to despise each other. I know no more than you." He laughed and cracked his knuckles on his left hand therapeutically.
She didn't say anything, just watched him with that calculating look on her face, urging him to keep talking, so he finally did.
"I...haven't known you long, and I'm sure you probably hate me due to all the shit I've tossed at you since your crew dragged me out of the water. Maybe it's because I don't respond well to authority, and you're...well, you're pretty authoritative. But I'm...learning. Or at least trying. I know I'm not the easiest person to tolerate most of the time, and I tend to be a bit unpredictable, but..."
He paused and eyed her sideways. Why the hell was he talking so much all of a sudden? He never talked this much at once ever, not in his right mind.
Fiammetta observed him with an unreadable look on her face. He cleared his throat and peered down into the water lightheartedly.
"I don't know where I'm going with this."
She still didn't respond, and his eyes flicked up to her face again, only to see that it held a look of humor, almost like she was challenging him somehow. Perhaps it was just her resting face, he could never tell. He smiled to himself and glanced back out over the water.
"Don't give me that look. You can't break me further, even with those eyes of yours. I've said what I need to, and if I talk any more, I'll certainly start babbling."
His peripherals caught a grin breaking across her face as she looked down at the ground, and then back up at him. He kept his stare forward, mostly just to remain levelheaded, but he did continue to smirk to himself at her smile. He liked that smile. It was far too rare.
He voiced that opinion, and her smile flickered a little at receiving the compliment. Upon seeing this, he gave a soft, defeated sigh through his nose.
"Unwanted compliments no longer become compliments," he said, dropping his act. "I'll ease off the flirtation, if you wish."
"Who said they were unwanted?" she replied without skipping a beat, her voice somewhat flirtatious itself.
He lifted his chin a hint, eyeing her slyly for a moment, mouth parted as if about to speak but no words escaping.
"You know what, Levianath?" The Troll finally spoke up, and he inhaled slightly. It was rare she had referred to him by his first name, and the sound of it was pleasant. "I will be honest; you are simultaneously one of the most irritating and the most tempting people I have ever met." She smirked playfully at her next statement. "And just so you're clear, I still haven't forgiven you for catching the ship on fire."
Levianath offered her a humorous, flashy look.
"Tempting?" he uttered teasingly, everything else she'd said flying right over his head. "I am tempting?" He kept his voice purposefully rich and thick, his expression practically dripping with mischief as he ever-so-slightly leaned in toward her. "How so?"
"Perhaps I'm confusing temptation with frustration," she bit back without skipping a beat, the potency behind the look in her eyes almost stealing his thoughts and causing him to falter for a half second.
He recovered and chuckled aloud. "I'd say those are one and the same. Both are formidable powers in great doses. Both tend to reap the same benefits when given free reign." He wiggled his brows jokingly.
Fiammetta watched him, and he her, their expressions mirroring one another's: engaging, slightly humored, and even a little suggestive, if he was reading it correctly. Maybe it was just him. Maybe not?
The woman broke first and shook her head. "So, this conversation has fully derailed," she finally snorted.
Levianath broke into a full grin, watching her wordlessly. She watched him back, and after a few seconds, Levianath broke the growing tension and yawned widely. It was the middle of the night, after all.
Fiammetta sighed. "You need to head back down and get some sleep," she commented lightly, switching the subject.
"No I don't, I'm not tired."
He didn't know why he said that. He was tired. Was it because she'd told him to do it? He mentally kicked himself. He needed to quit being so obstinate.
She seemed to think the same as him, and her expression became somewhat testing.
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"You're so..." she paused, trying to find the right word, mildly frustrated and equally humorous. "You're so contrary. Anything anyone says that could in any way be dictative, you do the opposite. It's so...aggravating."
She'd basically just read his mind, which he should've appreciated, but she'd done so in a way that challenged him, and he squared his shoulders.
"As opposed to you," he retorted bluntly, his quick tongue getting the best of him, "who cannot resist being absolutely in charge of everyone. Take a chill pill once in a while; it may do you some good."
That must have hit a nerve.
Fiammetta's eyes flashed brazenly, and she took a step toward him, a powerful aura in her movement, possibly effortlessly so. "Say what you may," she said, staying level in her tone and still retaining some of the humor she'd held earlier, though it'd lost its softness and was more brash. "But I am the commanding officer on this ship. And although you may be considered a guest here, you will still answer to me. Don't make the mistake of confusing my tolerance for weakness, and most of all do not assume you can tell me what to do."
"So authoritative," Levianath purred, goading her purposefully. It was far too easy to push her buttons, as was with most people. "You should try relinquishing that authority over now and then. It can be...refreshing." He emphasized the last word.
She seemed to pause for a half-second, eyes suddenly betraying every little thought running wild through her mind, before she straightened up and sent him a daring glare. "You couldn't handle it. You'd get burned."
"Oh, no, not me," he added as dismissively as he could and held his hands up. "I'd suggest going for someone like-" He paused, tugging at his brain for the name of someone he'd seen downstairs earlier. It came to him in only a split second, "-like Rodney, seeing as I'll be off this ship in a few days. He seems a capable fellow." He bit back a smile as her expression flicked to a miffed confusion.
"Rodney?"
"Your crewsman. I encountered him tonight. Great behemoth of a man, beloved by all. You really need to unwind if you can't even remember the names of your crew."
Her glare intensified. She seemed an equal mixture of humored and nearly furious, the way her blue eyes had ignited.
Levianath cracked his neck to the side and sent her a roguish smirk, stepping toward her as well. They were a mere foot apart, equal in height and staring one another down.
"You know what I think?" he taunted.
She perked one brow, cocking her head, jaw pulsing once.
He brought himself infinitesimally closer, trying hard to ignore the nearly-mesmeric scent that caressed his nose upon drawing near to her. His eyes were locked with hers. "I think you are all bark and no bite. You tell people what to do and they follow your orders and it's all great, but when someone like me comes along and ruffles your feathers, you do nothing but bark louder. You don't know what else to do. So actually, I think I do have the right to tell you what to do, just as much as you do to me. Until I see a reason to, I will not heed a thing you say. You are in no way better than me, First Mate."
A corner of her mouth tugged upward spitefully. "Weren't you just ten minutes ago saying something about swallowing that ego of yours?"
"Yes, well," Levianath shrugged one shoulder, "until that becomes a mutual action, I say tough luck."
She let out a breath and shook her head. "You don't want to test me."
"Don't I?" he stared at her tauntingly, "I don't see you doing a thing about it."
"You really want to do this?" she warned him, straightening, her eyes dancing between his as if welcoming a challenge.
He raked his teeth along his lower lip once, eyes gleaming. "Unlike you," he countered, "I very much do."
"Fine," she lifted her chin, finally breaking into a cheeky, goading grin. "You asked for it."
Levianath didn't have another second to spare before the Troll had, in a matter of two swift movements, knocked him onto his back. Air abandoned his lungs and left him stunned. He sucked in a breath and was quick to respond, though, and as he sensed her reach to pin him, he rolled twice to the side and nimbly hopped back up onto his feet.
"Lucky strike," he chuckled comically.
"That one was a freebie," she bit back.
The two exchanged heated glares before engaging in a complicated dance of dodging and lurching. Fiammetta sent a sweep toward his legs, and he jumped backward, allowing her to just barely graze his outer thigh before he retaliated swiftly, catching her by the forearm and yanking her toward him in order to get the upper hand. She stumbled forward as he'd hoped, and he ducked low and swept her feet out from under her. She let out an 'oof' as her back hit the ground. She lithely somersaulted backward and used the momentum to spring up, then launched herself forward, caught him by the waist and gracelessly tackled him to the ground.
Levianath grunted at the impact, dazed as his head came in contact with the deck. He had half a mind to cheat and call upon his spells. This wasn't looking promising for him.
For a brief second, he caught sight of the look in the fiery Troll's eyes, and he saw she was enjoying this far more than she should be. She seemed more alive now than ever before, and that was saying something.
They grappled a moment, rolling one another, trying to get the upper hand. Each of them received an elbow or two to the face, and Levianath could taste blood from where his teeth had hit the inside of his lip, the cut beginning to swell and trickle blood out of a corner of his mouth.
He licked his lips and tasted iron. This merely fueled him further.
The man released a growl and finally brought up one knee that knocked her off balance, shoving her off of him. He hopped to his feet and, as he waited for her to regain her bearings, bounced on the balls of his toes once or twice, shaking out his arms and cracking the vertebrae in his neck.
She stood as well, and the two then circled one another while attempting to regain their breath, watching one another from under their long brows.
"Are you finished yet?" Fiammetta panted as Levianath wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, noting the still-escaping blood that stained it.
He let out a breath, his parted, swelling lips forming a wry smile. "Just getting started here, sugar."
She released a harsh, single laugh and rushed him again.
They scuffled at odds until both were entirely out of breath, bruised, and somewhat bloody. As Fiammetta came in for one last attack, Levianath released a grunt when his back slammed hard into the wall of the bow-side cabin. She held him by his shirt, hands gripped firmly into the loose fabric that had now been ripped in a few areas and slightly bloodied. Only a moment later Levianath realized he'd gripped her by the arms, ready to throw her off him if she tried anything. They had come to an impasse, both of them pinning each other in place.
At their proximity he could sense the heat of her labored breath against his own mouth, and he swallowed hard as his eyes flicked to her lips. The two were inches apart at best, panting, their bodies exhausted but minds at full power, and Levianath's vivid eyes, as they fell onto Fiammetta's blue stare, flickered from a challenging flame to a dark smolder. The tension here was palpable, giving him a run for his money. He couldn't think past the invasion of his senses that was this exotic half-Troll, and found himself wanting to crush her and kiss her at the same time.
He felt her fists in the cloth of his shirt tighten further as he subconsciously angled in closer and brought her in a half-inch by her arms, the two of them breathless in their stalemate. Their eyes darted between each other. A moment of absolute, frozen hesitation hit them both, before he felt her shove him hard against the wall, like she was ready to start up again.
Suddenly, and without much thought, instead of shoving her away, Levianath brought the half-Troll flush against himself and crashed his lips to hers almost viciously, wrapping the fingers of one hand up into her thick, coarse royal blue hair. Her full lips were velvety and somehow sweet like fruit. He sensed her small tusks begin raking along the sides of his own mouth as she kissed him back, and he felt his heart jump at her reciprocation.
Then she paused, though, and pushed herself back a step, breaking their kiss. His eyes darted between hers in an odd mixture of desire and confusion. On the contrary, the woman appeared uncertain.
Levianath, although he couldn't step backward due to the wall behind him, did disengage. He relaxed back.
"You're right. That was out of line," he murmured, maneuvering himself out from between her and the wall. He'd only made it a foot to the side before she made him pause.
"One thing you should know about duels," she said, voice still commanding, and he stared at her.
"What's that?"
She neared him challengingly. "Never let your guard down."
The man's brows lowered, and he tilted his head at her defiantly. She wanted to keep fighting? After what just happened? Fine.
He rolled his sleeves, and his hands clenched into fists, which she noticed with a glance.
She came at him again, but he was prepared for her next move. He caught her by the shirtsleeve of one arm and dodged to the side, then attempted to strafe sideways to avoid a recoil from her. Her recoil came, but not in the way he'd expected it to. She dropped her guard, and when a very fed-up Levianath took the chance and sent his fist toward her, she whipped one hand out and caught his forearm in an iron grip.
He made to wrench his hand away from her, but before he could do so, every thought was whisked from his mind when she suddenly drew him in by his arm and kissed him. For a moment he was frozen in surprise, and the first thought that finally surfaced was one of suspicion. This woman was using this kiss as a trick somehow. He had to stay vigilant, in case... In case she was... His thoughts began to scatter.
She was...
She was kissing him, almost violently so, and Levianath couldn't resist it even if he'd wanted to.
He gave in fully, allowing a dark rumble of approval to escape from his chest, and caught her lower lip in his teeth, now cornering her against the wall.
The tables had turned. It was as if the duel hadn't ended with their kiss; rather, it had simply taken a different form. Their bodies had engaged in an escalating battle of their own, the occasional bite here and there (slightly painful due to the cut on his lip) reaching the point of where Levianath almost couldn't stand it, his hands gripping her tighter to him. A fire burned in him that couldn't be doused, roaring in his ears and blocking out everything but her. Her scent was irresistible, as well as the taste of her lips and the feeling of her hands curling into his hair. The only thing standing between him and what he desired was a few layers of flimsy fabric, and this thought amplified his actions.
He caught her demanding growl as she shoved him against the railing of the ship, the sole thing preventing them from toppling overboard being that of the vertical netted rope stretching from the ship's edge to the mast that held it taut. He felt her hands begin to travel, and he exhaled a sharp breath, becoming almost faint. She knew what she was doing.
His own hands had just slid their way up under her silky shirt when he heard a loud thump across the deck and a harshly-whispered expletive coming from the source.
Fiammetta immediately pulled away a full step, forcing his hands to drop. He peered past her toward the sounds, only to see none other than Reece tugging on Julian's shirt, lifting the boy from the floor where he'd apparently tripped. The two teenagers appeared dumbstruck, mouths agape, two sets of eyes glancing between Levianath and Fiammetta.
Levianath exhaled a breathless laugh, resigning a little and allowing Fiammetta to handle this. She'd prefer to do so, anyways.
Fiammetta's voice was slightly uneven and breathy when she spoke, which gave him a streak of smug pride he couldn't shake. If this woman had been affected the way she was projecting that she had, he'd done something right.
"What are you two doing up?" the troll asked the frozen teenagers.
Levianath, knowing Julian and Reece couldn't see half of him behind the half-troll, took advantage of this and began feather-lightly teasing a hand down the small of the woman's curved waist. Under his fingers, he felt a delicate shudder run down her spine as she resisted any visible reaction; she wouldn't give what he was doing away to the two teenagers standing across the deck. It was all he could do to keep from breaking into a betraying smile, as he could see by the ghosting smile on her mouth that she too was doing her best to ignore him.
"Uh, well, you see," Reece said, clearly attempting to recover from what she'd just encountered. "We're doing... nothing. I mean we were... just about to go to bed actually." She exaggerated a yawn and elbowed Julian in the side.
Julian startled, but then without further hesitation stretched his arms out wide, bullshitting his own yawn as well. "Right," he said with distorted speech while his fake yawn turned into a real one, "we weren't doing anything. Especially not something dangerous or troublesome or...anything. She was just...getting me...a glass of water." The boy was clearly coming up with it on the spot, although he'd spoken with a little more confidence. Levianath almost would've believed him, but he knew better.
Reece nodded. "Yeah, just some water. No need for worry."
"The water barrels are downstairs," the woman folded her arms. Levianath burst into silent laughter at this. Those two couldn't even lie properly.
"Are they?" Reece squeaked. "Fancy that!"
Fiammetta just shook her head and sent them both a hopeless shrug. "Fine, fine, just...go back to bed, both of you, and forget this ever happened."
"Oh we didn't see anything," Reece blurted. "Especially nothing between you two, I mean, that would be crazy." She laughed nervously, and Julian joined in the laughter without a word, far too loudly.
"Yes, absolutely crazy," Levianath purred, eyes flicking over to Fiammetta, his hand daring to travel a little lower. Fiammetta threw him a playful glance, almost nonexistent, before looking back at Julian and Reece.
"Shoo," she ordered, and Julian practically stumbled over Reece as the two retreated below deck.
Levianath just barely caught conversation as they disappeared. Julian's fading, muffled voice was regretful.
"Damn, I wish we hadn't gotten caught. That would have been so much fun."
"Maybe tomorrow," Reece's fading voice promised.
Honestly he didn't even care to know what those two'd had planned before getting caught. The moment the door shut, Fiammetta turned to face him. The pools of her eyes burned intensely into his, and she took in a deep breath, regaining her bearings.
"I'm going to bed," she stated directly. "And you are, as well. You will join me, or you will go sleep on your friend's floor again. I'm allowing you a decision." Her eyes flashed. "Compromising is fun."
In this special case, Levianath was not remotely put off by her ordering him around, and his fel eyes ignited beguilingly as he took her up on her offer. "You may not have won this war, first mate, but you've certainly won this battle. I'm all yours."
An audacious smile broke across her lips, confident and smug.
"Excellent choice," she hummed in her rough, Trollish tone, looping her fingers into his belt and tugging him toward her cabin.
He returned with his perfected, devilish grin and sauntered along into her quarters.
Julian
"Any better?" Reece piped brightly, and Julian wiggled his fingers a little, noting that the small off-white bandage on his left thumb was snug.
"It's great, thanks."
This was the third bandage the cabin boy had dressed on Julian's hand in the last day and a half. Peeling potatoes, as it turned out, was not exactly the cleanest nor the least-hazardous of jobs for the clumsy hands of Julian Silverpaw. He'd nicked his fingers countless times with his knife, but three separate times it'd been bad enough that he had required first aid. Reece, on the other hand, was a natural and her talented hands had stayed free of the sharp of her blade.
The cook, a rough Orc woman by the name of Shuuja, had been more than indifferent to the two troublemakers. She'd told them to 'just peel the potatoes and get outta my face,' any time they went to her to receive orders, so they'd just stopped asking her for jobs and had simply resigned to peeling potatoes as their fate. It was all they did for hours at a time. And although Julian should have hated it by now, he realized there wasn't much else he'd rather be doing. It gave him hours upon hours with Reece Black, so he couldn't complain.
Well, he could complain about how starchy and dry his hands were becoming after peeling so much or how everything everywhere now smelled like salt and potatoes, but that wasn't such a big deal.
Reece grabbed a potato out of the crates and dipped it in seawater, then began peeling it. "So how d'you say 'thanks' in Darnassian?"
"Dalah grat'alah," he hummed as he too began to peel again.
Reece paused a second. "Dalah means 'my'..." she glanced at him, and he nodded at her encouragingly. "And 'alah' is 'to you.' So... 'grat' means...thanks?"
He nodded.
She cocked her head. "'Thank you,' in common translates to 'My thanks to you,' in Darnassian?"
"It's more... 'my thanks are yours,'" Julian replied, "which we generally just interpret as, 'you have my thanks,' or simply, 'thanks.'"
"Ah," she nodded understandingly. Julian smiled to himself. She'd become curious about the language, and with not much else to do, Julian had volunteered to give her phrases. She was picking it up incredibly well. After a day and a half, she was able to speak some broken fragments that many others would have taken far longer to catch onto.
"Dalah grat'alah," she repeated to herself under her breath a few times. She smiled at him, finishing her potato and moving onto another. All the peeled potatoes were tossed into a massive barrel. "It's got a nice ring to it. Fun to say."
Julian smiled, rhythmically shearing the skin from the potato in his hand, before suddenly his knife slipped from his finger, and he nicked the same thumb again. He let out a sharp hiss and dropped the vegetable, swearing to himself.
"I keep doing this!" he grunted, noting how deep the cut was. Blood had begun to gush from his finger and down his wrist.
Reece released a sound equally packed with sympathy and amusement. "How many times 'til you learn to keep your thumb down, Songbird?" She fetched another bandage as he drew healing spells. His meager spells wouldn't heal fully, not the deep cuts, but they'd stave bleeding.
He watched her as she tirelessly tended to his painful thumb. She was still as boyish as ever and neither of them had actually brought up the fact that she was a girl. Julian realized that through all the anxiety and pressure on the both of them to come clean about the whole issue, now that it'd finally been thrown out into the open, it ended up being nothing. They'd acted no differently around one another. It wasn't awkward or weird for either of them. She was just...Reece, and he liked Just Reece. They'd both really grown the issue out of proportion.
Deciding to address that, Julian cleared his throat.
"So I kind of already knew you were a girl when you told me," he confessed, and her dark, chocolate eyes lifted to his.
"What? Really?"
"Levianath was under truth salts when he told me." He gave her a partial smile.
Reece, to his relief, simply let out a cheery laugh. "You knew since then? Well that would've made things so much easier!" she huffed, nudging him with her arm. "With Levianath pressuring me to tell you the truth and all, it was dragging me down."
"He pressured you to tell the truth?" Julian lifted a brow. "He did the same to me. Now that I say that out loud, that's so not Levianath to do that."
"To do what?"
"Advocate for truth," Julian snickered.
Reece simply laughed her boyish laugh, and Julian shrugged.
"Honestly, though," he tilted his head. "I'll admit it was a major shock to discover it at first, but..." He trailed off.
She watched him knowingly, finishing his thought. "But it really didn't change much, did it? Either that or you are just an incredibly good liar-slash-actor."
He chuckled. "No, I swear, the only acting I was doing was referring to you as a boy. Which I still have to do anyways."
"Good," she nodded and smiled cheerfully and grabbed another potato, returning to her job. Julian played with the wrapping on his fingers for a while, trying to draw up the courage to pick up his knife and keep peeling. He knew he would cut himself again, and he wasn't looking forward to it.
As Reece kept working, she spoke up. "So when we get back to Stormwind, what will you do?"
Julian watched at the potato in her hands, and watched the way her hands worked without her having to think. She had small hands, he thought to himself absently. He cleared his throat. "I have no idea. I mean I guess I could just go home, to my family."
She nodded understandingly. "You have a sister, right? Nyela?"
"Yes, that's right," Julian nodded, a smile tugging at his mouth that Reece had remembered the name. She was a lot more observant than he could ever hope to be.
He hadn't thought much on his sister, but now that he had, he felt a tugging at his heart. He missed her, and he missed his infant nephew twins. He missed his baby brother, Finn. It'd been months on months since he'd seen his family. Of course, his parents had helped ease that longing a little with their surprise arrival, but he still wished to see Nyela. She hadn't come along with Sarion and her parents because she was preoccupied with caring for her twin boys. Julian would admit, it was still a little weird thinking of her as a mom; in his eyes, she'd always be the target of his mischief, the sister whom he'd pester to no end. They were three years apart, but Julian had always viewed her as his peer, especially once he'd reached his teen years. So Nyela becoming a mother had shaken him, if nothing else giving him a wake-up call that he really was lagging behind her as far as maturity went.
Reece peered at his expression. "You miss her."
Julian's eyes were far away, but he tugged himself back to the present. "Lots," he nodded, smiling.
"Do you have any brothers?"
"One, younger. A baby. He's about...nine months old now?" Julian let out a surprised breath. "I'll bet he's grown tons."
Reece beamed at this, and Julian looked over at her.
"What about you?"
"What?"
"Family? Got any brothers or sisters? I've never heard you mention anyone."
"I had a brother once," she replied lightly, suddenly appearing highly invested in the potato she was peeling. "He died, though, when I was thirteen."
Julian swallowed hard, staring at her. She seemed fine, but he felt his heart tugging and constricting painfully. He wanted to hug her or something, but that seemed unneeded. For some reason, even though they were literally always together other than when sleeping, the two of them rarely had any form of physical exchanges, not even hugs, and he thought it would be weird to start that now. Her demeanor was entirely normal, not sad or anything, whereas Julian was internally falling to pieces just standing there staring at her.
With his silence, she finally looked over at him. He'd frozen and was gazing steadily at her, unsure of what to say. She let the corners of her mouth keep a soft smile.
"He was older than me by a few years. I looked up to him. He was basically my idol."
Julian tightened his jaw once, staring at her, and then cleared his throat. "Wh..what was his name?" he asked meagerly. What in the heck was he supposed to say when talking to her about her dead brother? He felt it'd be horribly tactless of him to inquire the nature of the brother's death unless she willingly gave it, so he'd said the only normal question in his mind.
Her eyes flicked to his as she looked momentarily hesitant. "Reece," she finally said, and Julian blinked twice. "My brother's name was Reece Robinson."
Julian's mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to find his voice. He was torn between the sudden pain in his heart upon hearing of her tragedy and the surprise at her false identity. "So..." he trailed off, sending her a look of uncertainty. "That would make you..." he swallowed. "You're not...Reece Black?"
She shrugged, setting the potato and the knife down beside herself and turning to face him. "Two people on this ship know my birth name. First mate and the captain."
Julian nodded, disengaging. "I understand. I don't expect you to tell me."
He heard her take in a subtle breath. "Lillian," she said confidently. "My...birth name was Lillian."
His eyes widened, and he stared at her a little humorously. "Lillian? As in...people could call you Lilly?"
She smiled and glanced to the side. "You can see why I was a little weirded out when everyone kept mentioning some girl named 'Lily' all the time."
Julian let loose a grin. "So what the heck do I call you? Lilly? Reece? A weird mixture of the two?" He paused. "Leece? Rilly?"
She began to giggle. "No..."
He smiled at her, loving the way her dimples formed on her speckled cheeks. "I... I like Reece better than Lilly. No offense intended, it's just..." he watched her. "You're Reece Black, the cabin boy on Darkrunner's ship. You'll always be Reece, my partner in crime, and the most fun I've known my entire life."
Her relieved grin stretched across her face, tugging at her numerous freckles. "No offense taken. Lilly doesn't exist anymore, anyways. I'm just Reece."
"Is it bad I'm happy to hear that?" Julian perked a brow at her.
They both leaned against the crates. The two of them had just ended up taking a break from peeling for a while.
"It's never bad to be happy," she hummed.
Julian smiled at this, and Reece folded her arms, falling back into the previous conversation.
"Reece was killed protecting me from some bad people," she hummed, and began to bite her nails.
"But you were just kids when it happened," Julian sobered and nearly whispered. "Where were your parents?"
Reece glanced over at him, the rich chocolate pools of her eyes capturing his. "As I said. Bad people."
He blinked and swallowed hard. "Oh." His voice wavered with just one word. Holy shit. Suddenly he felt incredibly stupid, having gone on and on about how great his family was, when she had this weighing on her.
She seemed to pick up on his expression, and she let a smile tug at her lips. "Julian," she cleared her throat. "It was a long time ago. It was...a different life, even. I'm so happy here. These people are my family, more family than I ever had back home. I kept my disguise mostly just to avoid my parents, but I could've shucked it years ago and been fine. I don't know why I keep it. But I...like it. My identity is defined by Reece Black, the cabin boy on Darkrunner's ship," she smiled when she quoted Julian. "That kicked-puppy look on your face is misplaced."
Julian watched her steadily. She wasn't just saying all that to make him feel better. She was legitimately, truly okay. She was better than okay here; she was happy and safe. If anything, he should be glad she found such a welcoming home. But he still couldn't help but feel so incredibly sorrowful at the thought of what Reece, especially little Reece, had endured. It was heartbreaking, and a lump formed in his throat.
Her brows turned up and she laughed sympathetically at the look on his face, turning over and wrapping her arms around his torso in a tight hug.
"Elune's breath," he whispered to himself, letting out a laugh and hugging her back tightly.
"What?" She didn't release him. He didn't want her to.
He sniffed. "You just told me you've gone through this terrible, awful ordeal, and I'm the one who needs consoling. This is so backwards," he chuckled weakly, and her hug tightened.
"Well, I give the best hugs," she replied. "You're in luck."
He smiled, daring to rest his mouth and nose against her hair. A sudden, powerful wave of peaceful tranquility washed over him then, and his eyes fell shut. He'd felt some form of magic, a calming, soothing magic, tingling into his skin. He recognized it as the same magic she'd used on him when he'd fallen from the topsails. She literally, truly gave the best hugs. He only wished he could return what she'd given to him somehow, because this...he had no words.
The hug lasted far longer than either of them had meant it to, and when Julian felt her finally pulling away from him, it seemed as if a part of him was tearing away as well. He swallowed heavily, and attempted to change the subject. The timing seemed well enough.
"So, Levi and the first mate..." he said slowly, peering sideways at Reece to catch her expression.
Her eyes widened as she remembered what they'd encountered last night. "Oh yeah!" she erupted, suddenly bright and full of enthusiasm, her natural state. "What the heck is up with that? Did Levianath ever come back to your room after that, or no..?" She looked hilariously hopeful for the latter.
Julian grinned and shook his head wordlessly, his eyes flashing mischievously. "No-ope," he drew out the word.
Reece burst into full belly laughter, so infectious that Julian joined in as well. They laughed til they had tears in their eyes, though why it was so hilarious, Julian could not place. He recalled seeing Levianath and Fiammetta the night before; it'd been dark, so he and Reece hadn't seen them initially upon sneaking above deck. But then the scuffling of the couple's movement had drawn their eyes, and they'd witnessed the two dark figures all entangled against the side of the boat. A few seconds of staring let them realize who it was, and then Julian, in his surprise, had accidentally tripped right over Reece's feet. Fiammetta's expression had been priceless when she'd whipped around to see them. She had seemed so trapped, and yet for some reason so distracted. And Levianath, well, Levianath had just been...Levianath.
Reece's voice was rough as she laughed. "I didn't even know they liked each other. I thought they only tolerated one another, and barely so."
"Maybe it's uh," Julian tried to speak through laughter. "Maybe it's a bunch of pent up angry frustration. Maybe they were literally trying to eat each other's faces off."
Her laughter doubled. "Well it definitely looked like that's what was happening!"
The door of the storage room suddenly burst open, and the Orcish cook Shuuja appeared, looking peeved.
"What the blazes is all that racket in h-"
She paused, catching sight of the piles of peeled potatoes.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" she practically exploded.
Julian and Reece shied away from her tone, cringing.
"We peeled the...potatoes," Reece said feebly. "Like you wanted."
The Orc's voice was still at a bellow. "You peeled ALL OF THEM!" She stepped aside, pointing out of the door. "OUT! No more help here! You two are finished! Thank you and goodbye!"
Reece and Julian stumbled past her.
Her voice, even outside of the room, carried through the whole ship wing. "We'll be eating gods-damned potatoes for the next THREE WEEKS!"
They sped up at the woman's near-roar. Once they'd gained enough distance from the kitchen, Reece bubbled into nervous laughter.
"Wait," Julian caught sarcasm in the kid's voice. "So, we did something wrong?"
"Wha-at?" He jokingly cocked his head. "I thought her reaction was one of appreciation. Would've taken her forever to peel those potatoes if not for us."
"Yeah, maybe even days," she nodded, giggling.
The redhead snickered.
Reece stretched her arms out. "Well, good news," she hummed. "We just got banned from being grounded. Looks to me our schedule has just opened up. Let's find someone to pester."
Julian grinned. "What a wonderful idea."
Levianath, 3 days later.
The dark elf pulled a soft, cotton shirt over his head, attempting to do so quietly in order to not wake the Troll from her slumber. He stumbled a little in attempting to don trousers in the dark, but finally managed it, and tied the strings haphazardly before jamming his boots on. He'd slept in a little late this time; he preferred to sneak out before dawn, but Fiammetta's small round window revealed that the sky was turning a dusty blue. He tied his hair back and tucked his shirt in, and he reached for the door, easing the latch open as quietly as possible and slowly urging it to open. It creaked as always, though, and he heard Fiammetta stir.
"Hey," he caught her voice and paused, turning back toward her and letting the door ease half-closed again.
She'd sat up in her bed, nothing but her bedsheet over her chest acting as a barrier against his eyes. Her hair was slightly disheveled but for some reason it still worked on her, and her expression was inviting. He sent her a knowing smirk. He had spent the past three nights in a row coming back here to her cabin. Same woman, three times in a row? That had to be some sort of record for him, perhaps save for when he'd been faithfully married.
"Morning," he practically purred at her.
"Sneaking out, are we?" she cocked one brow up.
"Well, you were the one who wanted to keep this a secret," he quipped. "I am simply fulfilling your wishes." He rested his hand on the door latch.
Fiammetta gave him a nod. "Right. Well, I guess I just wanted to address one thing..."
Levianath remained quiet, waiting for her to keep speaking.
She straightened her posture slightly. "This, between you and me? No strings."
"You kidding?" Levianath practically snorted. "If not for this, we'd be at each other's throats. In the bad way, I mean," he added playfully. "This is only the smart thing to do, naturally."
Fiammetta bit a smile. "Mm. Of course. Naturally."
Levianath sent her a sportive wink. "See you around, first mate."
He walked through her door, only to be absolutely doused in what smelled to be a mixture of salt water, fish scales, and seaweed. An empty wooden pail clattered to the ground, and Levianath's momentarily-tense shoulders simply fell in defeat as he heard Fiammetta behind him burst into laughter. He glanced back at her.
"Was this you?" he whispered, equally peeved and amused.
She shook her head, laughing so hard she wasn't making a sound, a sight Levianath had never seen on her before. Her nose had crinkled adorably, catching his eye for a moment before he brought himself back to his predicament. He grimaced and shook the disgusting water off of his hands, slicking his soaked hair back. Half of it had fallen out of the tie.
Fiammetta's laughter seemed to echo through two more voices out on deck, two he recognized, and he followed their location. Just then he saw Julian and Reece both topple out from a hiding spot behind empty wooden crates, rolling on the floor in raucous laughter. Of course they were the culprits. It was always them. The time between him opening Fiammetta's door and exiting it had only been about a minute, tops. They had to have been waiting for him to crack it open in order to plant the pail. That took patience and remarkable timing. Half of him was genuinely impressed, and the other half was piqued.
He let his head fall back in entertained annoyance, and he was about to scold the two of them but froze when he realized how many crew members were milling about now. The last two times he'd snuck out, it'd been early and dark enough that he could slip by the workers without being seen. But now, they saw him, and they saw him exiting Fiammetta's cabin. And they saw the prank Julian and Reece had just pulled on him.
And so, they all had begun laughing at his misfortune as well, which also meant they knew of him and Fiammetta.
Levianath let a hand brace against his forehead as he groaned inwardly. The whole ship would know by midday. Without glancing back, he let Fiammetta's door ease shut, and sent the still-laughing pair of teens a scathing smirk.
"Thank you for that," he flicked more water from his arms. "I was feeling parched."
This renewed their laughter as he headed below deck. The cat was out of the bag, now, and all Levianath could do was laugh along with them.
Although it had taken him far too long, Levianath finally managed to scrub clean the smell of the mucky seawater. He'd donned fresh clothing and allowed his hair to air-dry as he explored the ship.
Upon curiously digging through some bookshelves below deck, he'd discovered something of use to him: a Warlock tome. He assumed it must belong to Wraith, though he was unsure of whether the captain practiced demonic magic or not. Of course as a Blood Elf the man clearly preferred fel magic in general, but maybe not demons.
The tome, though, was nothing more than a run-down of medium-to-difficult demonology spells, which Levianath found to be absolutely perfect. He was halfway through the book, and he'd already doubled his number of known incantations. He'd cozied up in what was basically a supply closet. His glowing eyes saw well enough in the near-darkness, and this closet provided more seclusion than he'd be able to find anywhere else on the ship. He'd been around more people who knew his name this past month than he ever had before, and until he'd found this closet, he'd have given an arm and a leg for some genuine solitude.
A point was reached where his eyesight begged for a break, and he leaned his head back against the wall. His gaze flicked to the thin space between the bottom of the closed door and the floor. Light filtered in, and he saw footsteps pass it once or twice, but no one opened it. He smiled. Maybe this would be his retreat, this little closet. It was surprisingly comfortable, and dark, and pleasant.
However, as soon as that thought had taken hold in his mind, a shadow cast by a pair of feet outside the door stopped, stayed, and then the next he knew, the door opened.
Levianath was moderately relieved to see it was Julian, and he relaxed a little. The boy caught sight of him once he stuck his face in the room, his expression lighting up animatedly.
"I found you! Hey there, you antisocial, ladies' man, you," Julian grinned widely, and Levianath acknowledged his presence with a flick of his long brows, burying his nose back in his book in an attempt to not-so-subtly shoo the teenager away. Come to think of it, there was probably no place Levianath could ever hope to hide without being found out by this kid.
Either the redhead didn't catch the Warlock's hint, or he simply ignored it.
"We haven't had a nice friendly chat in way too long," Julian waltzed right over next to where Levianath was sitting in the corner and plopped down beside him. Julian was not one for personal space. The kid was bigger than Levianath was, for crying out loud, and Levianath felt smothered just by him being in the same little closet.
"Whatcha got there?" Julian peered over Levianath's arm at the book, and Levianath squished himself further into his corner.
"Warlock stuff. Demonic-summoning and void magic."
He noticed that Julian had paled at that, and the half-elf resisted a dark smile and leaned in a little closer to the teen.
"I'm sitting here in this closet, plotting the demise of everyone on this ship. Reaching my fingers into the void and dragging out bloodthirsty demons to wreak havoc upon the world is one of my favorite pastimes."
The boy had caught Levianath's sarcasm halfway through, and was back to his normal self by the time Levianath had finished his sentence, and on top of that, entirely changed the subject. "Second only to somehow wooing the least-wooable women everywhere you go," Julian snickered playfully.
"Wooable? Is that a word?" Levianath goaded.
"You're dodging the point," Julian retorted, and he pointed a finger at Levianath. "You. Fiammetta. Explanation. Go."
Levianath set his tome down flat in his lap and finally looked at Julian fully, donning a patronizing expression. "Explanation? Julian, is this you asking for the sex talk?"
Julian just returned with a dull look. "No, this is me asking you what in the heck is going on between you and your lovely new bedfriend. I mean, do you like her? Do you lo-ove her?" The teen made exaggerated kissy sounds through puckered lips.
"Bedfriend? Is this make-up-words day?" Levianath simpered playfully. "Why was I not informed? I'm great at words."
"Lev!" Julian barked, still good-naturedly, but clearly about ready to strangle the Warlock. Levianath only responded with a grin. Julian cleared his throat, gaining a mischievous edge.
"Well, at least tell me... Did you get to four?"
Levianath blinked, thrown-off.
"Four what?"
"Four-play?" Julian grinned.
Levianath's lips parted as he stared at the boy, unsure if he was joking or legitimately was that clueless. It took all his resolve not to erupt in laughter, but finally he broke and began to chuckle heartily.
"Foreplay, you mean?" he laughed. "Julian, you can't be serious. Are you?"
"Well, I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd reached three-play, but four-play is where things get really good."
"Please tell me you're joking!" the half-elf's laughter reignited full-force.
Julian simply kept grinning impishly. Levianath still couldn't read his expression, and he rubbed one hand down his own scruffy chin as his laughter finally began to die down enough to breathe properly. Julian had to be joking, and for Levianath, his only solace lay in that fact.
"You're either joking," Levianath hummed teasingly, "or you desperately need devirginized. I'm sure someone on this ship would be willing to remedy that if the case is in fact the latter."
Julian laughed out loud and shook his head once. "Mm, devirginization. I'll pass."
Levianath stared at the boy, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. "Hold on. I was kidding. Does that mean you're...?"
Julian sniffed obliviously, peering at Levianath with a bright smile. "Hmm?"
Maybe this kid was far more innocent than Levianath had initially given him credit for, and Levianath made a mental note to maybe censor some of the stuff he talked about from now on. He opened and closed his mouth once, then found his voice. "You know what? Forget I said anything. What were we talking about?"
"You and Fiammetta. What's going on between you?" Julian asked effortlessly, retaining his playful smirk.
The man smirked back. "Fine. Fiammetta and me. Think of it as a mutual tactical decision in which we, the involved parties, have agreed that the most effective means of mitigation regarding a clash of authority is to...well, to sleep together."
Julian stared at him. "And that restated concisely and in smaller words would be?
"We kept arguing, so we fixed it. In her bed. Thrice."
Julian slapped a hand to his forehead. "Levianath! If that's not one of the stupidest reasons to-"
"Reasons?" Levianath released a laugh. "Tell me, Julian, where is the line drawn between valid and invalid reasons when it comes to something like this? I would genuinely love to know."
Julian tightened his brows. "Reece told me she overheard you yelling at your dad last week. She basically said you bitched at him for allowing you to even exist, like you were mad at him for whatever happened between him and your mom. You called him careless because his choice to be with your mom resulted in you happening."
Levianath squinted his eyes. "Your point being?"
"My point being that you're doing the exact same crap you're angry at him for!" Julian laughed a little. "You're being such a hypocrite, man! First you and that girl at the bar, and then you and Fiammetta. For all we know you may have already sown those seeds! And from the way you've been acting, I'm going to guess this whole promiscuity thing you've got going isn't something new. You could have a kid as of now and not know it, too."
"Things did not carry through with Sage," Levianath retorted, "and Fiammetta has supplied prophylactics. I am being careful, and I always have been. Hell, I was married a year and a half and never produced a kid, if that says anything. And why are you defending the captain? You know what he's done."
"You were married?" Julian lifted a brow, and then blinked a few times before speaking up again. "Er, whatever. Anyways, I'm just trying to help you to see his side. I want you to see what you're doing, how hypocritical your actions are in light of what you were angry about. Maybe you will make sense of whatever it is you've got pent up in that mind of yours."
Julian sighed, and kept speaking. "He's a person too, Levianath, and you should view him as one. We all make mistakes, and although you think you are Darkrunner's mistake, in my own -probably useless- opinion, you are not and have never been a mistake. You are my best friend, and that is no mistake."
Levianath remained quiet, so Julian again spoke.
"I hate to think that you're unhappy for any reason, especially regarding your own blood family. I know you've been avoiding your dad the past few days, and I know that you have justified reasons to be angry with him other than 'being born'. But perhaps it's time to speak with him, civilly, and maybe reach some common ground."
Levianath stared at the teenager. He was receiving a lecture from a teenage boy six years his junior, a boy who probably had little-to-no experience in what he was talking about. And yet, Levianath could not ignore what the boy was saying. Julian's words held merit, and he had to admit that eighteen-year-old Julian was far wiser than eighteen-year-old Levianath could have hoped to be at that age.
He let his shoulders relax once he realized they'd been held tense, and he released a single laugh. "Julian, where the hell did all that come from?"
"I babble when I'm serious about something," the boy shrugged. "Get used to it."
The dark half-elf sighed, and looked at the book in his lap. "So, maybe you're right."
"You'll talk to the captain, then?"
"I will. Eventually."
Julian let a smile spread across his face, and he patted Levianath on the knee before standing up. "Fantastic. Now, I'm off to find Reece. You have fun with your... Warlock stuff."
Levianath nodded, and then squinted his eyes. "Say, shouldn't you be working in the kitchen, though? I just remembered you're not where you're supposed to be."
"Oh! Uh, well, you see," Julian said, inching toward the door, then opening it and sliding out with nothing more than a few unintelligible mumbles. The door closed, leaving Levianath back in his comfortable darkness.
Shaking his head in amusement, he leaned forward and made to set the tome onto a crate by his knee, but paused when a folded parchment fell out of the pages. Curiously, he unfolded it and read its title.
Warlock's Guide to Demonology-Specialization, Vol. IV: Felguard Appropriation & Assimilation of Powers
Levianath's brows shot up. Felguard? Now this might be of use to him. He'd love to learn how to summon a new demon, and not only that, but as he began to skim through the words, he saw something that stood out even more. Assimilation of Powers. This was what Pip'tai had been urging him to do, to draw the strength from Vol'xac, his voidwalker. The only reason Levianath had been wary was because he was unsure of whether he understood the spell well enough to carry it through or not.
But now the spell was right here, ready to be learned. And not only that, but if he could learn to summon a felguard, he could gain even more power than what he'd gain from a voidwalker.
He cozied into his spot in the closet, becoming comfortable, enthusiastic to learn. Little did he know that by learning these spells, his life would never be the same.