Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Leone, come over here. I’m cold,” Marcella barked from her sleeping roll, buried up to her nose in the raggedy blanket she held onto for years. From the corner of her eye, she saw her voidsent friend standing around aimlessly, staring at nothing. He was completely lost without her— it was infuriating and uncomfortable to constantly order him around, but her heart ached for him all the same.

It wasn’t his fault, really. The culprits responsible for Leone’s current state wrenched his mouth open as he faced her— the cowardly leeches who resided in his body. His jaw creaked painfully, the muscles in his neck twitched, and voices of all creeds came spilling out like bile.

“Dammit boy, don’t listen to that wench! She’s usin’ ya, and if you’ve any pride left ya won’t take another bloody step,” she recognized him, the gravelly, hacking cough of an old sailor. He was one of the first to take her friend’s body, feigning victimhood once the seas had dried up.

“Scary! She’s scary, Leone!” whimpered a voidsent with the mind of a child. A damned bratty one with a squealing voice that made her head ache. Young or old, she hated them all the same. Leone’s shoulders shuddered violently, as though he were being pulled apart from the inside.

“To hell with you, witch! Release your wicked hold on him this instant!” Finally, the self-righteous crowing of a former knight. They were one of their coworkers from an era past. Marcella rolled her eyes— this one disgusted her the most, somehow. If they really wanted a fight, they could have grown some stones, left the safety of Leone’s vessel, and gotten stabbed by her ages ago. Instead they cowered in fear and made threats from behind an impenetrable shield.

The voices continued bickering and snarling, growing louder and more inhuman with every staggered step forward. Leone fought it, she knew he did, and he always obeyed in the end. Still, stubborn as she was, she couldn’t keep doing this every night. Every night for gods knew how many years.

“Ugh, forget it! I can’t stand any of you!” Marcella snapped, turning away from him. She’d rather freeze her fingers off than deal with another round of screeching and moaning.

Leone’s jaw snapped shut all of a sudden, the clack of his teeth audible even from a distance. She peered over her shoulder, squinting in the darkness. The air seemed to shift, and he blinked once, twice, before his eyes glimmered in recognition at last.

“Mmmmmmarcy….” His voice was raspy with disuse, and always the weakest of the four, but it was the sweetest sound in the world. It was the only thing that kept her going after the Contramemoria. He repeated the name as he fell to his knees in front of her. Leone sunk further, crawling under the blanket. Cool air rushed inside, made by the tall gap his shoulders made beside hers. The man’s snowy white eyelashes flicked down between them, and he clasped his hands gently around hers, completely dwarfing them.

Oh, that damned nickname. Marcella felt her jaw unclench and her gaze soften without her permission. “Hi, Leone,” she muttered under her breath. His hands were smooth as a statue’s, and weren’t all that warm— in fact, they had the eerie lukewarmness of a fresh corpse going cold— but they were big, and familiar, and his. She nestled into his shoulder, sighing. They’d finally get some rest tonight, after all.

Chapter Text

The training facility was massive and empty. In Solution Nine, there was no difference between night and day, but the electrope-powered lights of the buildings would dim and warm when it was time to sleep, and Peridot had been squinting for some time. The sounds of muffled punches and squeaking shoes bounced along the walls. The stout older woman yawned from the bench she was leaning on— her back was beginning to ache.

“Nice work kid, let’s wrap it up.” Peridot announced and deactivated the training bot with a single press of a remote, not even taking her hands out of her pockets. The bot was a round little thing with a pseudo-fierce face and large padded hands. It clattered to the ground unceremoniously, dodging one last punch from the victor: her prized pupil, Nico.

The boy sported reptilian scales and horns, and he was red all over. His skin was the color of ruddy clay, while his hair was a neon, gaudy shock of fire. The clothes he wore were just as bright, a shiny cyan to match his eyes, though no one would notice him in a place like Solution Nine. Irritatingly enough, he was ridiculously tall, especially compared to her halfling self. It was why she couldn’t test his punches without a robot; either she used the robot, or she’d have to wear stilts.

Nico’s deadbeat parents left him behind as a kid, and Peridot was the only one willing to pick up the pieces. She was the farthest thing from maternal— fifty summers old, single, addicted to all sorts of vices, hated kids, and so on— but she still cared about the boy and his success. A previous Arcadion fighter herself, who once wielded the soul of a great, thundercalling bird, Peridot was injured in the ring and retired, to the mockery of many. Now a teenager, Nico wielded the soul of a red bandercoeurl, a fire-breathing beast.

The boy ran fingers through his sweaty red hair and whined, “Do we really have to stop, Coach? I was getting into a rhythm.” Even though he was panting, he bounced the balls of his feet like he wanted another challenger.

“You’ve been ‘in a rhythm’ for the past four hours. It’s late, I’m old, and I want a damn smoke,” Peridot grumbled. Too impatient to hit the showers, the kid changed in the corner of the room, still clearly in view of the older woman. She groaned loudly in disgust and turned away. Ugh, teens were so gross.

On the way out of the facility, Peridot took a deep breath of the electric-charged night air. She pulled a shiny white pipe from her pockets, shaking it in his direction as she loaded the bowl.

“That ain’t good for you, Coach.” Despite his admonishment, he puffed a little flame her way to light it, a little trick she’d taught him that brought a wry smile to her black-painted lips.

“Oh what would you know? You burn through souls quicker than I burn through my pipe, and you’re still in the junior leagues.” That made him hush up, deflating on himself. She realized she was a bit harsh on him, but the world was so much harsher, especially to the famed fighters of the Arcadion.

He quietly conceded, pulling two surprisingly-filling juice pouches out of his bag. He handed one to her with his head downturned. Peridot hadn’t ever tried the drinks until Nico came home with a dozen, and frankly, the kid got her hooked on them. They had all the nutrients of a full meal and were cheap, so they’d be their dinner for tonight.

She held onto hers as she smoked, puffing lazy rings away from the boy. Gleaming pink eyes watched him scratch nervously at the asymmetrical scales on his face, sipping from his juice halfheartedly. He pouted down at his shoes like a kicked puppy. She sighed deeply from her nose. What were the nicest words she could muster…. Think Dottie, think!

“…You did a good job today, Nico. You do a good job every day,” Peridot said, finally, peering at him from beneath her blunt bangs. He reluctantly turned his head to face her, eyes darting from side to side like he could run away at any moment. “But I know you can do better, and stop burning out so often. Tomorrow we’re training for endurance and breath control— the bandercoeurl is powerful, but it’s resilient too. I know you can do it.”

His only response was a hum of acknowledgement, but Nico smiled hesitantly, blowing his hair out of his eyes.

“Let’s say we get some ice cream, huh? My treat.” She barely had the money for their gym subscription, but she’d find a way.

Now that got his attention. With an elated gasp, the kid sprang up fast as a rocket. “Really? Thanks mum! I mean Dottie— I mean Coach! Come on, I’ll race ya!” He darted into a crowded alley toward their favorite creamery, the sound of squeaky shoes fading as he sped off.

“What?! Who are you calling ‘Mum’?!” Peridot coughed indignantly, chasing after him with aching knees.