fic: and i bloom (just for you)
Oct. 26th, 2020 09:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vvitchsdesireao3 || wattpad || ffnet
Title: and i bloom (just for you)
Fandom: Something Dark And Holy Trilogy
Rating: G
Wordcount: 840
Summary: A few of the wounds do not fade: they become permanent flowers etched in her skin.
Whoever Nadya's soulmate was, they were being terribly abused. In a world where flowers bloomed, drawn in skin with the greens, reds and blues of bruises every time their other half got hurt - and became permanent if it scarred -, it was an easy conclusion to draw when one had, almost daily, flowers blooming in their skin, beautiful and tragic.
The priests spoke among themselves: Nadya knew they did, in half-scared tones, half-afraid, and Nadya would look inside, finding solace amongst the ones above.
Can't you help them?, she'd ask the gods, and Marzenya would say no.
Nadya nods and sets to study harder. Maybe she can convince him, if she can tell him enough about the gods and the saints and the clerics. Perhaps he'll even join her in the monastery, and the two can be happy.
A few of the wounds do not fade: they become permanent flowers etched in her skin, her forearms fields of lilies, snapdragons and little pale flowers that Nadya does not know the name for, crisscrossed, organized.
There is a method to this madness: Nadya stares at the soulmate marks, and watches a flower bloom in painful tones.
So he's a blood mage, she says to the gods. Marzenya tuts, as if it was her fault.
Perhaps you can save him, is all she says, but it feels bitter this time.
She only has one scar of her own: a nick on her ear, fruit of a prank gone wrong, a beautiful little flower in purple. It's cute, she thinks: gives character. She just hopes her soulmate doesn't mind it.
The monastery falls, and Nadya runs off into the night. The tranavians are behind her, and she does not want to be hurt. She's already in pain, blooming from her chest, and she wonders if these wounds can appear inside the heart in similar flowers to the ones that decorate her arms. How would they look inside a body? Would it be as pretty, would it be as sad?
She had no time to think, only to run, and hope her soulmate did not mind the scars she was giving him.
There is a boy. A tranavian, wearing all black and charmingly disastrous. Nadya knows, at some level - with Marzenya helpfully chiming in - that she should slit his throat.
Maybe I can save him, Nadya insists. I've trained for this.
Nadya bites her tongues, and her hand remains steadfast on the hilt of her blade. Maybe, just maybe, she can save one: preparation for her soulmate, whoever he was.
She discusses theology with Malachiasz, and he debates her on it gladly, dark eyes shining. Nadya has never had so much fun; it was one thing to discuss the inner workings of religion with the monks, and another entire thing to discuss it with a heretic: it feels positively thrilling.
On her head, Marzenya tuts.
The sleeves of Malachiasz's coat falls, showing his forearms once, and it reveals a web of flowers: lilies, snapdragons, and flowers Nadya did not know the name for.
He caught her looking and politely put his sleeves up. Nadya stopped him, staring at this surely not-coincidence.
Tranavian razors did not leave marks, and yet.
"Is there something wrong?" He asked, cheerily, as if there were not fields of scars in his arms. Nadya did not speak: she looked up at him, moved the hair that hid his ears, and found the little purple flower there, in the same place as hers. "Nadya?"
"You're my soulmate?" Nadya asks, baffled, showing her forearms to Malachiasz. "You? Of all people - you?"
There's a surprised look on his face, eyes going to hers and then to her arms and then back to her eyes.
"I didn't think I'd have a soulmate." He hesitates for a moment. "I'm sorry. For... These."
"It's not your fault." Nadya says, and he bites his lips. "It isn't, really. Besides, I gave you one as well."
"It's not the same. I didn't think..." He trails off, before kissing her, and Nadya forgets what she was going to say, all the flowers in their arms blooming in unison.
The scar she carves in her hand hurts, but it's with a vicious glee that Nadya knows it'll hurt him, too.
Velyos' mark, in her hand, resembles a rose, black and rotten through. Nadya stared at it, sitting in the dusty chapel, alone except for her thoughts.
She feels Malachiasz's presence before he speaks up.
"Was it worth it?" She asks, eyes still on the mark she knows he bears too, matching roses in their hands.
The monster touches a single claw to her mark, and it feels warm as sunlight on her skin.
"Yes." He croaks, and Nadya looks up. He cocks his head, and through the mass of inky black hair, she sees in his ear a small, purple flower.
Title: and i bloom (just for you)
Fandom: Something Dark And Holy Trilogy
Rating: G
Wordcount: 840
Summary: A few of the wounds do not fade: they become permanent flowers etched in her skin.
Whoever Nadya's soulmate was, they were being terribly abused. In a world where flowers bloomed, drawn in skin with the greens, reds and blues of bruises every time their other half got hurt - and became permanent if it scarred -, it was an easy conclusion to draw when one had, almost daily, flowers blooming in their skin, beautiful and tragic.
The priests spoke among themselves: Nadya knew they did, in half-scared tones, half-afraid, and Nadya would look inside, finding solace amongst the ones above.
Can't you help them?, she'd ask the gods, and Marzenya would say no.
He's in Tranavia, and as heretic as they come. You've drawn a terrible lot in life, but perhaps you can save him.
Nadya nods and sets to study harder. Maybe she can convince him, if she can tell him enough about the gods and the saints and the clerics. Perhaps he'll even join her in the monastery, and the two can be happy.
A few of the wounds do not fade: they become permanent flowers etched in her skin, her forearms fields of lilies, snapdragons and little pale flowers that Nadya does not know the name for, crisscrossed, organized.
There is a method to this madness: Nadya stares at the soulmate marks, and watches a flower bloom in painful tones.
So he's a blood mage, she says to the gods. Marzenya tuts, as if it was her fault.
Perhaps you can save him, is all she says, but it feels bitter this time.
She only has one scar of her own: a nick on her ear, fruit of a prank gone wrong, a beautiful little flower in purple. It's cute, she thinks: gives character. She just hopes her soulmate doesn't mind it.
The monastery falls, and Nadya runs off into the night. The tranavians are behind her, and she does not want to be hurt. She's already in pain, blooming from her chest, and she wonders if these wounds can appear inside the heart in similar flowers to the ones that decorate her arms. How would they look inside a body? Would it be as pretty, would it be as sad?
She had no time to think, only to run, and hope her soulmate did not mind the scars she was giving him.
There is a boy. A tranavian, wearing all black and charmingly disastrous. Nadya knows, at some level - with Marzenya helpfully chiming in - that she should slit his throat.
Maybe I can save him, Nadya insists. I've trained for this.
No. You have trained to kill for me.
Nadya bites her tongues, and her hand remains steadfast on the hilt of her blade. Maybe, just maybe, she can save one: preparation for her soulmate, whoever he was.
She discusses theology with Malachiasz, and he debates her on it gladly, dark eyes shining. Nadya has never had so much fun; it was one thing to discuss the inner workings of religion with the monks, and another entire thing to discuss it with a heretic: it feels positively thrilling.
On her head, Marzenya tuts.
The sleeves of Malachiasz's coat falls, showing his forearms once, and it reveals a web of flowers: lilies, snapdragons, and flowers Nadya did not know the name for.
He caught her looking and politely put his sleeves up. Nadya stopped him, staring at this surely not-coincidence.
Tranavian razors did not leave marks, and yet.
"Is there something wrong?" He asked, cheerily, as if there were not fields of scars in his arms. Nadya did not speak: she looked up at him, moved the hair that hid his ears, and found the little purple flower there, in the same place as hers. "Nadya?"
"You're my soulmate?" Nadya asks, baffled, showing her forearms to Malachiasz. "You? Of all people - you?"
There's a surprised look on his face, eyes going to hers and then to her arms and then back to her eyes.
"I didn't think I'd have a soulmate." He hesitates for a moment. "I'm sorry. For... These."
"It's not your fault." Nadya says, and he bites his lips. "It isn't, really. Besides, I gave you one as well."
"It's not the same. I didn't think..." He trails off, before kissing her, and Nadya forgets what she was going to say, all the flowers in their arms blooming in unison.
The scar she carves in her hand hurts, but it's with a vicious glee that Nadya knows it'll hurt him, too.
Velyos' mark, in her hand, resembles a rose, black and rotten through. Nadya stared at it, sitting in the dusty chapel, alone except for her thoughts.
She feels Malachiasz's presence before he speaks up.
"Was it worth it?" She asks, eyes still on the mark she knows he bears too, matching roses in their hands.
The monster touches a single claw to her mark, and it feels warm as sunlight on her skin.
"Yes." He croaks, and Nadya looks up. He cocks his head, and through the mass of inky black hair, she sees in his ear a small, purple flower.
