I know it's closer to Halloween than Valentine's Day, but we have a chapter we want to post before my co-writer turns 40. (She's nowhere near that old, but we're procrastinators)
We thought about what to do with modern Sylvain. Thinking it over led to it being almost like he told us "Screw that, I want to be Markiplier." So he's an internet celebrity now.
It hadn't been his choice to take the job of a courtroom guard, but Benny was intimidating enough that most people dropped weapons on sight. Charlotte always laughed about what a pushover he was once he knew someone.
Maybe that was why he'd ended up paying the rent for the crappy two-bedroom apartment he shared with her and her boyfriend. Charlotte cooked the meals, of course, she wasn't heartless. But Keaton...
He had a boat. That was pretty much his contribution to the house, and certainly what won Charlotte over. He just went with whatever job the agency threw his way, never getting officially hired and rarely selling his junkyard sculptures.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Benny asked his roommate, who gave him an annoyed stare over the top of her compact mirror.
"I've stalked Izana's page for months," she reminded him, before returning to checking her makeup. "He's looking for new talent for the next show he's producing, and if I can make it to TV, I can pay you back for letting us move in."
"And what if you don't make it past the audition?"
"Then I'll keep trying," Charlotte promised, though the twist of her mouth told him that she was making plans. But before she could tell him, Keaton returned home from work, and they left for date night.
Benny didn't think he wanted to know, anyway. So he called his girlfriend over, called for a pizza, and waited to see which got there first.
There was nothing to be ashamed of if you lived with your mother as a college student. Still, there was something to be ashamed of if you were twenty-two years old and still playing with toys. Only writers and professional filmmakers could have that excuse.
Apparently.
So, Kaze found himself walking through the grocery store, running an errand for his mom to make up for her finding a stuffed animal sacrifice in her kitchen, Saizo holding a knife and Kaze holding a camera.
In short, living with Revan couldn't come soon enough.
A flash of gold and purple caught his attention, and he turned to look. It hit him immediately - this was one of the girls from the bar. Sakura's friend. The leader of the Slinky Brigade.
Her hair was up in gigantic pigtails, as usual. For the second time, she wasn't wearing one of the lolita-style dresses that she liked to appear on camera in, instead choosing a black kitten-print blouse and plain blue jeans. And she was reaching for the Valentine's candy but was too short to get the one she wanted.
Kaze picked it up and handed it to her. The excited cheer confirmed her identity, but when the cheers trailed off, he realized she was just as starstruck as he was. He couldn't understand why - he wasn't exactly YouTube famous, aside from a few videos he'd made with Revan and Azura in high school that they'd all rather forget. He still cringed at the Potato Head Rap.
"Captain Slinky?" he asked, referencing the name change she'd done when the video of her and her friend getting stuck had gone viral.
The girl nodded. "In the flesh," she said with a familiar smile. "You want an autograph?"
"Perhaps." He looked up at the candy, then picked up a box for his mother as an apology gift. "I would like to ask a favor."
She backed up immediately, grabbing her phone. "I'm seventeen."
"What would that have to..." It hit him, and he held up his hands quickly. "No! Not that kind of favor. I would like to ask that you document your life for a day."
"Really?" Elise put the phone away, but tilted her head in confusion. "Why?"
"I'm a film student," he explained desperately, "and my current project is a documentary. Since my presentation on ancient religions was, shall we say, discontinued..."
Elise giggled. "Why? Was it really that bad?"
"My mother objected to the part where I covered sacrifice," he admitted. Her laughter increased, and he smiled along. "So, I decided to record a day in the life of students. I will be recording my own Saturday, and since you and I have similar careers, perhaps you can do so too."
"Is it to get the level of homework cut down?" Elise asked.
Kaze cleared his throat. "Perhaps that's some of it." He was still procrastinating on the stop motion, after all.
"I'm in," Elise announced without even a moment of hesitation. "Hopefully I'll have my camera back by then."
Revan was not part of the Slinky Brigade. He had no idea what Elise did with her free time, or else he would have pulled some strings to introduce her to Kaze sooner.
Instead, he was walking alone down Taguel Avenue after dark. All of this for the slim chance that he would encounter a figure that would most likely kill him upon encountering it. After wandering aimlessly for what felt like an hour, he was finally greeted with an unfamiliar sound, but turning the camera over to the direction it came from only revealed a black cat running across the pavement.
"Okay, everyone," he said sarcastically to the camera. "Stay calm. It can probably smell fear." He laughed a bit at that, not noticing the large, menacing figure coming up behind him.
As the Death Knight began to circle around Revan's right, the young man shifted his gaze in the opposite direction.
A bit confused by this, the demon changed his tactic by walking to his left, where Revan changed direction again and forced the Death Knight to stop and patiently wait for his victim's attention.
Revan finally got bored of this and scoffed at the empty air. "Screw it, there's no Death Knight!" he shouted right before turning around and slamming his face into the knight's abdomen and came crashing to the ground. Revan promptly looked up, took in the scythe, horns and red eyes, and screamed. He screamed for a solid minute before finally forcing himself to save his voice by clearing his throat.
"Hello," Revan said to the powerful and terrifying Death Knight.
"You are in my territory," said the Death Knight. "Leave."
He held up his scythe. Revan gulped.
"What do you know about dragons?" he blurted.
The menacing figure paused. "What." The word didn't seem to be a question.
"The Silent Dragons," Revan clarified. "I want to know about the Silent Dragons."
"Even if it costs you your life?"
"Yes."
The Death Knight chuckled. "I like you," he decided. "Very well. Defeat me in combat, and I will tell you what I know."
"Really?" Revan lit up. "Great! I'll do the countdown!"
In his excitement, he had forgotten that this wasn't a video game. He was an average, unarmed, 5-foot-9 man, and he was going up against a 6-foot-something tower of undead strength, who was holding a weapon. This would not end well outside of Street Fighter. This wouldn't end well in Street Fighter.
Naturally, he decided to open the fight with a punch below the belt, only to hit protective metal. Both Revan and the man behind the mask hissed in pain, but the Death Knight's sounded more like a growl and Revan finished his with "Your poor wife."
"Strike one," said the Death Knight when he'd recovered. After all, he'd heard what his opponent had said, and he didn't want his wife brought into this. He was starting to not like this man after all.
Rather than continue to speak, Revan aimed for the face, realizing it was a bad idea only in the split-second before his fist connected with the metal mask.
"You're finished," said the Death Knight.
"No, I'm not!" Revan insisted. "I can still go!"
"You idiot! You smashed both your hands!"
"But I can still do this!"
And Revan attempted a roundhouse kick, which, like his hands, connected with protective metal. The Death Knight was impressed.
Not impressed enough to talk about the Silent Dragons, however.
"Get back here!" Revan shouted after him, flopping around like a dying fish. "You yellow-bellied bastard! I'm not done with you!"
"You lost. You aren't worth my time."
"I am the man who is going to bring the Dragons down!" Revan shouted.
The Death Knight froze. His knowledge of the Silent Dragons, though limited, was enough to make him wonder if he should talk after all.
"You're a loony," he said instead, and walked away.
Bernadetta entered her bedroom after taking care of her plants, and froze in the doorway.
Somehow, her husband had gotten a set of impressive bruises. One was on his face, and he was lying in bed without a shirt, staring at the one on his side with an uncertain expression.
Clearly, he'd gotten into trouble, and the man hadn't had his ass kicked since the time he went to Russia. The thought of it happening again must have confused him.
Bernadetta didn't know the exact specifics of that trip - he and Constance had taken a vow of secrecy, and Bernie had decided that not knowing was best for her own safety. Instead, she climbed into bed next to him.
"What happened?"
"I met with a very determined man," was the answer, in the deep, slow voice that had been a comfort to her for years.
"A...Russian man?"
"American," was the response. "I won."
"Should we press charges?"
"No." He'd technically started it, after all. "He wasn't worth the effort."
"But he must've hit you really hard!"
"His first shot was the best." He couldn't help but flinch - protection or not, the crotch shot was nasty. It had been all he could do to just stand there and take the man's punches until he was stable.
Bernie noticed, and her face went red as the thought she hadn't known she was thinking became There goes my plan for tonight. "Well...um...goodnight!"
And she turned out the light. The pure red of her face, just for those few moments, told him what she'd been thinking.
Jeritza sat in irritation for a few moments. Perhaps, he thought, this Death Knight business is a bit too much effort itself.
Sylvain Gautier stared down his friend, unafraid of the man despite knowing what he was capable of. Hubert stared back.
"Look," Sylvain said, breaking eye contact even though he knew that Hubert would take that as a victory, "letting your wife call all the shots on your sex life is admirable. But you need to get laid, dude."
"Don't call me dude." For once, Hubert was very glad that Linhardt was napping. "And as for that statement immediately before it -"
"I'm just saying. You just need to go up to her and say, 'Edelgard, we need to bone.'" Sylvain roughened up his voice to a poor impression of Hubert's.
"And you need to go to a place of business and say, 'I want a job application, dude.'" Hubert nearly spat the last word, even though it was all the effort he put into imitating Sylvain.
"Ingrid is happy to be breadwinner," Sylvain protested, "and I have a job."
"An internet celebrity is not a job."
"It is if you promote video games." Sylvain grinned, the same smile that had gotten him plenty of fangirls despite him being open about his marriage. "I get paid enough."
"For screaming like a girl when something jumps out at you."
"Something that looks like you, maybe." Sylvain snickered. "Come on. Next week is Valentine's Day. Edelgard works for the government, you deal with Linhardt and Caspar and Petra all day. Both of you can use some stress relief. Just ask and be willing to take no for an answer. That's what I do on a nightly basis."
"Was the only reason you stopped by to harass me about my sex life?"
"Not the reason, no." Sylvain leaned back slightly, arms behind his head. "I came to tell you that I ran over a squirrel on my way to bring Ingrid her lunch and wanted you to do what you did to make the Slizard. I just saw you and you look more like death than usual."
"I don't usually work with squirrel innards, Sylvain, but I'm starting to look forward to working with yours."
Sylvain immediately stepped back in defense. "Hey, I'm just saying. How do you think Ingrid and I stay so pretty?"
"I get it," Hubert hissed. "Despite what I said in college, you do indeed have sex. Now you have thirty seconds to bring me the squirrel before I ban you for life."
Sylvain quickly rushed out to his car, coming back with a cooler.
Both of them silently acknowledged that Hubert had not completely dismissed the accusation.
Hilda was a desk cop. Claude was a news reporter. The fact that an important holiday in most couples' lives was quickly approaching was easy to miss when both of them spent most of their days locked in an office.
But on the thirteenth, both of them hit the realization, and that was what led to Claude Riegan desperately calling the Dragon Noodle restaurant where they'd had their first date.
The owner was sympathetic, but it didn't change the fact that the couples' special he was offering was all booked.
"But you love romance!" Claude protested. "Can't you just give us the table of the first couple who leaves?"
"The Dragon Noodle is not a reservation-required place," the owner pointed out. "Unfortunately, given the reputation of the restaurant, every couple in Emblemme comes in. And then there's the matchmaking service I offer, which leads to potential couples coming in, and I'm understaffed as it is."
"I can be a waiter! I just need to have a table booked for an hour!"
Still, the answer was no. Claude hung up the phone in frustration, unaware that Hilda had heard his half of the conversation until she hugged him from behind.
"You know that I like dressing up and having my husband take me places," she confessed, and Claude turned around, ready to explain. She stopped him. "But do you know what I like even more than that?"
"Sex?" Claude offered, holding the 'e' longer than most people.
This threw her off a bit. "Well, yeah, that's up there," she admitted. "But do you know what I like more than that?"
"More sex?" he said, with his clearly joking smile.
She lightly smacked him. "Doing absolutely nothing."
"That was going to be my third guess."
"Are you sure it wasn't 'even more sex?'"
"Who do I look like, Sylvain?" He laughed out loud. "I'll find some way to surprise you, babe. You can count on it."
"It better be a good one, then," Hilda said with a mocking pout.
"Oh, you know the thing with Marianne's parrot was funny..."
"You know Jakob can be a smartass," Garon was saying as he followed Rowena to the door - his driver had been called to pick her up from the library while he'd been in the car, and her explanation had been that Jakob was busy. "Remember the time I broke my leg? When I told him that he'd have to do more around the house to make up for it?"
"He's always dragging your drunk ass to bed," Rowena reminded him as they entered the house. "I can't blame him for wanting to do only as much work as he'll get paid for."
She entered the kitchen to get a bottle of her favorite flavored water, only to stop in her tracks. There stood Jakob, a grocery bag on the counter, preparing a romantic dinner for himself and his wife...and, apparently, not expecting her father to be capable of walking upright.
"Forgive my intrusion," Jakob said quickly, forcing himself to be polite as he could be. "My own kitchen was...under renovation." No thanks to his landlord, the cheapskate. "Rowena said I could come here."
Garon shrugged it off. "Hey, you're both adults. No one cares what you get up to as long as you don't let anyone see or hear it."
"That does explain why you told us to ignore it when Xander decided to come downstairs shirtless when Camilla had Selena over for a sleepover," Rowena muttered, cringing at the thought.
"That was just showing off," Garon corrected her. "I doubt he had Camilla's permission to date her friend at that point."
Rowena remembered how quickly Xander had left when he'd seen Selena openly staring, and had to decide that it probably was just forgetting that it wasn't just his family there. She was confused by her businessman brother's dedication to keeping his "impressive" abs, but it made sense when this moment came back to her head.
And now that she had an explanation, she decided not to think of it anymore.
"In that case," said Rowena, approaching Jakob with an innocent smile, "can I help? The faster it gets done, the faster we can head upstairs..."
Jakob spent a good minute debating if Rowena's underdeveloped cooking skills were worth it.
"Thanks for coming, everyone," said Revan, sitting down at the table where Sakura, Flora, Felicia, Hinata, and Kaze sat for a game of 'Singles Uno.' "It's nice to have a group of friends come over for game night."
"You could do this with your family," Flora pointed out, but fell silent when Revan and Sakura made brief, awkward eye contact. "Or...not."
"Long story," said Revan, as Sakura looked down at her cards. "And one I don't want to tell."
Hinata had a different question. "Is anyone gonna ask?" he asked the table, only to get several blank stares in response. Hinata gestured at Revan's hands. "What happened, dude?"
Revan looked down at his bandaged knuckles. "I don't know what you're talking about." He wasn't about to tell his friends that he'd punched a demon in the wiener and still lost the fight. Not even Kaze and Silas would ever know. Not even Rowena. "Felicia, do you want the first turn?"
"Of course you give it to her," Hinata snorted, but Kaze kicked him to shut him up.
Felicia turned bright red, but managed to ignore him otherwise as she put a yellow 2 on the table.
And then, suddenly, she wasn't at the table anymore.
Her chair had broken - it was an old family heirloom of Mikoto's that used to be brought out for Azura when she and Arete came over, old enough that it was plausible that a regular woman's weight was all that was needed to snap the leg off.
Still, Revan was the only one to ask if she was ok. Sakura had run from the room to collect some bandages, some saw the confused woman looking around for an explanation and started laughing. The rest were confused themselves.
"I'm fine," Felicia said, her voice quiet. "Do you...eh...have another chair?"
Revan's decision was to move the whole game to the floor. Luckily, everyone was on board with that.
"Come on," said Hinata as he took a seat on the ground. "His leg, too?"
"I don't tell you how to spend your Valentine's Day," was Revan's only response.
Hubert had taken Sylvain's advice, and he hated himself for it.
Edelgard had survived soap opera syndrome as a child, and he'd known it. They'd taken martial arts classes together back then, and watching her suffer had told him that he'd fallen for her at the age of ten. He didn't want to see it again, and if she ended up pregnant due to a single slip...he wasn't sure if it would be safe. It might twist her abdominal gland again.
So he let her call the shots, and so far, things had been going fine. But Sylvain had been right. They both needed stress relief.
Not that he'd ever tell him.
"Edelgard," he started, and she immediately looked up from her paperwork. "It has come to my attention that we have far too much work to do. It has been...suggested...that we proceed to ignore it."
Edelgard's mouth twitched as she fought a smile. "Sylvain told you that you needed to get laid," she summarized, and Hubert flinched.
"That...is the bare minimum of what I was saying, yes."
"More like a direct translation." Edelgard sighed and returned to her papers. "I would love to, Hubert, but the mayor is insistent that I go through this before Tuesday to get rid of all this extra padding."
"Tell the mayor to go screw himself."
"I would, but unfortunately, such actions would kill my future political career."
Hubert nodded. "That's why I told him we don't."
"Soon," Edelgard promised, which was the best he could hope for.
It was just as well, as he got a call from Petra mere moments later: "I was locking up the building like you instructed, but I realized that a pair of antlers was missing..."
"Who would steal antlers?" More importantly, why? "They aren't even real!"
Petra said something in her native language. Hubert couldn't hear all of it, but from her tone and what he understood, it was a series of obscenities and death threats. He immediately put her on the case.
If he couldn't get sex, at least he'd get some sleep. After all, he must be overstressed if he actually felt pity for the antler thief.