Archive of Our Own

“I,” Mazdari announced somberly, to a captive audience of two, “Am doomed.”

“Oh no,” Yan, the unsympathetic rat, drawled. “That must be terrible.”

“I concur,” Talay, a considerably more sincere being, hummed, “Is everything alright?”

Mazdari smiled ruefully. “Oh, better than alright, really. I’m not sure if alright is a way to even properly describe what I feel.”

Yan narrowed her eyes, her demonic ear flicking. She was entirely unamused and far too used to Mazdari’s bullshit to fall for the obvious conversation bait he’d dropped upon them. Unfortunately, Talay was not, in fact, used to Mazdari’s bullshit, so he leaned in and made a noise of concern. “If everything is better than alright, why are you doomed?”

Mazdari waved his rotten hand, and acted as if he could grasp the ceiling, even whilst sitting. In the back of his mind, the spirit of the rotten hand sighed, exasperated. Oh shut up, Mazdari thought. You feel the exact same way. “It’s a bit of a curse, I’m afraid,” he said. “I feel like I can do anything.”

Yan rolled her eyes. “You always feel like you can do anything. It’s how we acquire half our damn problems.”

Talay frowned—or at least, Mazdari assumed he frowned. It was annoyingly hard to decipher expressions from a literal walking tree. “I’m still not understanding how you’re doomed.”

Mazdari flicked his wrist and kept the fire going. He would need it. “To ensure you fully understand,” he said, “We must—”

“Oh great, here we go—”

“—start from the beginning.” Mazdari tilted his head. “To be precise, when I was captured by Seokmyeon.”

O~O

Kill them.

Mazdari shut his eyes and tried to curl into himself. His wings were dirty. His feathers were dirty. Everything was fucking disgusting and the rotten hand’s presence was not helping any.

Burn everything. I can help you.

You’re the one who said you’re not strong enough. Mazdari stared at the ceiling. Was it always that close?

…Was it getting closer?

…It’s better to die on your feet than live on your knees.

That’s poetic. Mazdari closed his eyes again. You stole that quote from Lakrak.

Lakrak has many admirable quotes.

Was it nighttime now? Mazdari genuinely felt like he was going insane. He blinked for literally two seconds and—

You were unconscious for six hours.

What.

The rotten hand remained silent for a moment. There was a distinct lack of humor in its mental voice. Six hours. It said after a while. I yelled at you for the first two. You’re awake now?

Oh my god, Mazdari smiled blankly. I’m gonna die.

Don’t swear by god, the rotten hand, ever the entity with all the right priorities said. They’ve never done us any favors.

Should I escape? Mazdari stared at the corner of the room. A spiderweb. Did that count as something Twisted Tie had influence over?? Was He watching at this very moment?

You need to make up your mind, the rotten hand stressed. You’re losing strength, and I can’t burn with nothing—

O~O

“I don’t know how it happened for all of you,” Mazdari said, “How you all heard it. But I heard a two-toned voice with the undercurrent of something that could only be described as—”

O~O

…Power, Mazdari thought numbly. That was what the voice sounded like. Power. It wasn’t domineering, but it was filled with the kind of potency that could only be borne from age. It was deep and high. Young and old. It was—

“My name is Hongo.” The Locust greeted.

“You’re a Messenger of Night Sky.” Mazdari blurted out. “Why are you here?” a dirty thought entered his mind and he smiled bitterly. “Are you here to ask me to join the Night Sky?”

It’d be typical. All Gods were the goddamn same.

“No,” Hongo uttered. “I am here to deliver a prophecy.”

“A prophecy.” Mazdari repeated flatly. “With the Twisted Tie watching?”

“He is not watching now.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Night Sky has decreed it, so it must be.”

That was one hell of a faith to have. Though, Mazdari allowed, It would only be natural for Night Sky’s children to have that much faith in him…

“I shall decree the prophecy now,” Hongo sang.

Whoa, wait, hold on, Mazdari wasn’t ready—

“The mage known as Mazdari will become a wizard of Seokmyeon.”

…Great. Mazdari really wasn’t ready, it seemed. Are you fucking kidding me? The rotten hand snarled. Mazdari began to laugh. He really was at the end of his rope here. Stuck in a cell, he probably hadn’t eaten anything for days—

A week.

—like that helped any—and here the child of Night Sky was, decreeing that he would basically become the secret weapon of his jailers.

Mazdari, for half a second, had the traitorous, traitorous thought of biting Hongo’s knee.

“…You are displeased.”

“Yeah?” Mazdari choked out. “Do you think I’d be happy hearing that? Damn it… What if I just don’t fulfill it? Don’t fulfill that goddamn prophecy, I—”

“You didn’t let me finish the prophecy,” Hongo interrupted. “You, the mage Mazdari, will become a wizard of Seokmyeon… and then you, the wizard Mazdari, will betray Seokmyeon.”

…Well.

All words died in Mazdari’s throat.

That was… considerably more tempting than what Hongo had said previously.

“What if I don’t?” he still challenged, just to see what would happen.

“Then you don’t.”

Hm. “Wouldn’t Night Sky become displeased?”

“You can do whatever you want.”

“But wouldn’t He force me or something?”

Hongo tilted their head. “Night Sky is powerful enough to not need to force mortals into doing what He wants.”

Huh.

“In the end, all that He wants will be achieved anyway. Because Night Sky… can work even with those who work against Him.”

…Now wasn’t that chilling.

O~O

Yan shuddered, and Mazdari noted with a bout of amused pride that even she was sitting angled towards him. Despite everything, it seemed that she too could not resist Mazdari’s glorious storytelling abilities.

“We all asked similar questions, you know.” Yan grunted. “You got the same answer as the rest of us. My stars. Hoo… Night Sky…” Yan shook her head.

“It is indeed chilling to know that every choice we make is still in line with what a God desires.” Talay murmured. “It is as if we have no choice of our own.”

Mazdari tilted his head and thought of him. “I don’t know,” he echoed. “I think our choice is actually a principal part of it all.”

O~O

Mazdari was a court mage of Seokmyeon. It was… horrifyingly boring and incredibly nausea-inducing. He’d won respect for his people, of course, but…

Mazdari watched dully as Dermalin sipped from a jug of some concoction of alcohol, just for the hell of it. There wasn’t even anything happening. He just needed to be here, in this ugly courtroom, for two hours per day solely so the king could see what he was doing, how he was doing, and where he was.

It was incredibly invasive and incredibly boring.

“My King!” a stranger burst through the doors. Dermalin tilted his head, vaguely amused. “An oracle from Twisted Tie has been received!”

Mazdari blinked and Dermalin was sitting up, every bit the king he was, no trace of the languid ruler he’d been mere moments earlier. Unpleasantly, he was reminded of that moment in the snow. “Speak,” Dermalin commanded.

The priest spoke.

Within moments, Mazdari was sent back to his assigned room, told to gather his things, and board a ship.

Within hours, he’d left the borders of Seokmyeon.

Within days, he met with Seokmyeon’s allies.

In one week and six days, he met Heukrin on the southernmost island of the archipelago, and by proxy, the harbinger of all his current problems.

O~O

“You’re kidding me,” Yan stared at Mazdari blankly. “This was all an intro?”

Mazdari smiled winsomely.

“You know,” Talay noted idly, “I have noticed something about you, Mazdari.”

“Oh?”

“You are remarkably inefficient at conveying information. A little like an elf—those worshippers of Shadowless, that is.”

“I know which species worships who.” Mazdari informed brightly, “But I’ll graciously let your insult slide—”

“It wasn’t an insult, it was only an observation.”

“—because I’ve finally reached the interesting part of this whole story.”

O~O

The General Oldor Mayen was an old, old troll, and unreasonably funny when he wanted to be. His ego was endless and though he was more than competent at being a commander, it often got in the way, which, obviously, was part of the humor.

Wasn’t one of the precepts of Twisted Tie’s dominion Thou shalt not have ego?

The irony was almost biting.

“We’re making landfall,” Oldor informed. “Get yourself ready. Heukrin is already there.”

Heukrin.

The name whispered itself in Mazdari’s mind like a halfway hymn, halfway curse. The nation of Night Sky. The nation of the God that birthed that damn prophecy.

It’s a carrot, rotten hand observed.

If so, Mazdari thought, Then where’s the stick?

…

They made landfall three hours after Oldor notified Mazdari about it. The feeling of sand between his talons had never been so blessed. And then, from a distance, he heard an old friend’s voice.

O~O

“Lavina?!” Yan was shocked to her feet. “She was there?!”

Mazdari nodded and gestured Yan to sit down. “If only she could share our excitement,” he murmured.

O~O

Mazdari had only been focused on approaching Lavina, so the idle voice narrating battle tactics was lost on him until he was close enough for it to be impossible to ignore. “…splitting our forces would be too risky. We’ll still have to take them one by one.”

“No need to worry,” Mazdari heard himself say, “We’ve already secured Ormur.”

And Lavina was startled to her feet and an elf stared blankly, a vague hint of confused disgust at Mazdari (her eyes were drawn to the rotten hand), and the lizardman looked up, and—oh.

It should have been criminal to have those eyes.

There was nothing on his face.

Mazdari felt… disconcerted.

“Mazdari?!”

Nonchalant, nonchalant…

“Oh. Long time no see, Lavina.”

You failure.

Mazdari wanted to jump into the ocean.

“You two know each other?” the lizardman asked, and from the side, as his head was tilted, Mazdari realized there was a red shadow around them. A signature of Heukrin royalty.

What’s Heukrin royalty doing here?

Prince Basen, Mazdari realized after a short, aborted moment of straining his memory. He was expelled from the palace after ceding the right to rule to his brother. He was then made a commander of a small fleet of ships and told to explore what hadn’t been explored.

…He must have been the Commander for this particular expedition then.

Okay, nonchalant, nonchalant…

“I’m an alchemist, Prince Basen,” Mazdari smiled and dropped to a seat before the prince. He could vaguely feel Lavina looking at him, startled and infuriated.

You are so bad at this.

“An alchemist…” the Prince’s eyes narrowed. ““Hm. Seeing as how you know who I am, and how you’re with them…”

Mazdari smiled winningly.

The Prince immediately announced at full volume, his voice tearing through the air like a cracking drum. “Go to the warship and tell General Ian to ready the troops!”

O~O

“HA!” Yan snickered. “You’re such a massive loser, Mazdari.”

“That’s rude,” Talay said disapprovingly. “Even if it’s true.”

“You both are lovely friends.” Mazdari lied.

O~O

It took an immense amount of deescalation (not immense, Mazdari was just being dramatic) to get Basen to calm down and call off his earlier order. It was not helped by Oldor being the asshole he was, what with how he snubbed Basen repeatedly.

“With all due respect,” Basen strained out, smiling thinly. “The Southern Archipelago has been paying tribute to Heukrin already. Moreover, we believe in the same God. The Archipelago is Heukrin’s.”

“I thought they believed in the White Spider God,” Mazdari said.

“Another name for Night Sky.” Basen responded without blinking. “A Priest will come by soon to confirm it.”

Mazdari wasn’t sure how true that was, but he wasn’t about to go against Basen’s words. The poor lizard looked like he’d been going through it recently. Not as much as Mazdari, of course, but quite a bit.

The two Commanders spoke a bit more, and Mazdari was led away by Lavina.

“Why are you here?” she hissed.

“What do you mean?” Mazdari smiled winningly. It failed. Shame. His smiles never worked on Lavina. “I’m a mage of Seokmyeon. Almost a Wizard, some could say. If not at that stage already.”

“A mage. Of Seokmyeon.” Lavina scoffed. “Don’t get mad at me for not bursting with joy or belief. Be for real with me right now, Mazdari.” Her face darkened. “Before I pry the information out of you myself.”

Mazdari would rather that didn’t happen. “There’s a prophecy from Night Sky,” he spilled. “I’ll end up, ah, you know… Leaving the area soon.”

Lavina’s lip twisted. “Betraying them, you mean.”

“Not—Not so loud!”

Lavina scoffed and flicked her horns. “No one will hear us. The wind’s always on my side.”

Well that wasn’t terrifying at all.

“Well, now that that’s been established…” Mazdari tilted his head. “How are you doing? I see you’ve allied yourself with Heukrin.”

Lavina’s eyes softened and, for a moment, Mazdari wondered why she never looked like that when they were working as colleagues in the Alchemists’ Tower. “All roads lead to home,” she said, and Mazdari found, bitterly, that he could not relate.

“Hm. Must be nice.”

Lavina shrugged. “It’s comforting to know I have a place to go back to.”

“Didn’t they persecute you?”

“Ha!” Lavina barked out a laugh. “To an extent. Many lizardmen are appearance-blind*, but many also aren’t. I’m protected by law and by Night Sky, so I was less persecuted and more… shunned.”

“Which one’s worse?”

Lavina shrugged again. “Persecuted, I suppose. At least I can ignore being shunned.”

“…Is the Prince appearance-blind?”

Lavina quirked a short smile. “Yes. He did not notice I had horns until he really started looking. I doubt he’d notice your hand, too. He may be fascinated with your wings, though.” She paused. “Don’t call him prince, by the way. He’s our Commander now.”

“Our?” Mazdari echoed, vaguely amused.

Lavina smiled, and Mazdari was mildly afraid at the teeth shown at the edge. “Oh,” she assured. “You’ll be listening to him soon enough.”

O~O

“How cocky.” Yan grumbled. “As if you’d listen to someone. You. Mazdari. Cooperating and working under someone else out of respect?” Yan scoffed. “Absurd.”

Mazdari remained silent.

“…Absurd?” Yan tried again.

Mazdari thought of Basen, the flick of his tail and the ridges on his snout, and the red shadows around his eyes and the easy agility of his body, and the smoothness of his voice, and the—

“Oh my stars.” Yan said blankly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mazdari chuckled awkwardly.

O~O

So, the first Prince of Heukrin was appearance-blind. That was interesting—

O~O

“It’s because lizardmen are either nocturnal or diurnal,” Talay interrupted. “Prince Basen seems to be of the nocturnal type, much like Lakrak was—so his eyes are more calibrated to tracking movement rather than light.”

Mazdari stared at the carnivorous ent blankly. “Look,” he said, “I was trying to be poetic, and you just ruined it.”

Yan rolled her eyes and clutched her demonic ear. “Mazdari, you cannot be serious with the direction you’re going with this story.”

Play dumb.

“What story?”

You fucking dumbass.

Yan threw a stone at Mazdari and the Garuda, too high off the memory of Basen, only laughed when it made contact with his ribs.

O~O

“So.” Mazdari sidled up to Basen, flashing his most charming smile possible. Fun times aside, he actually did need to build a good relationship with the nation of Night Sky. The better relationship he managed to build, the smoother his general notion of a plan would go.

The mage known as Mazdari will become a wizard of Seokmyeon…

“I want to learn more about you, Prince Basen.” Mazdari said earnestly. This is not building a relationship with Heukrin, you fool.

…The wizard known as Mazdari will betray Seokmyeon.

Basen sipped from his ochoko and glanced at Mazdari without actually glancing at Mazdari. “You have wings,” he noted.

Mazdari smiled chipperly. “I’m afraid they don’t work, despite their size.”

“Oh.” Basen’s mouth twisted. “That’s unfortunate. Why so?”

Because my people were cursed for believing in God, Mazdari wanted to say. Because the Gods discarded us after we no longer were of use.

…Because God is cruel.

“An unfortunate event in history made it so,” Mazdari said, admirably tactful.

Basen’s tail twitched. “…Is that so? Nothing else, then?”

Mazdari was at a loss for words. His tongue worked and he couldn’t speak. It was like his voice got stuck in his throat, looking at Basen’s skeptical face. The slow twining of his tail was just the clincher.

O~O

“Honestly,” Mazdari admitted, half lost in the firelight and half lost in a memory. “I don’t really know why I told him. It might be the alcohol of the night messing with my memories—I can say that—but I hadn’t actually drunken anything at that point. My memories are clearer than the reflection in a divine mirror.”

A breeze passed through the cave. The air thickened.

“I…” Mazdari trailed off, “I really don’t know why I told him.”

O~O

Basen was surprisingly sympathetic. “The Gods are wretched beings,” said he, “I love Night Sky so, but cruelty walks in hand with kindness. The insect eats crops as much as it nourishes.”

He then offered Mazdari an ochoko and Mazdari, ever the paragon of good decision making, took it, offered a salute, and drank.

The rest of the night was a haze.

The next morning, Mazdari woke up with a splitting headache, too many feathers ruffled, and a disappointing lack of unknown fluids on his clothes.

He got maybe two hours to clean himself before they set out to sea behind Heukrin’s ships once more.

O~O

“From there it was a bunch of normal stuff, you know.” Mazdari shrugged. “Just a few skirmishes, an abnormally large pirate fleet—I needed to summon the hands of a demon to fight a kraken—”

“You what?!” Yan squawked.

“Those exist?” Talay murmured, but his voice was lost in the chaos of Yan grabbing Mazdari’s lapels and shaking him until the Garuda was fairly sure his brain would turn to mush.

“—and then I had to get Basen to play along with me so I could smoothly betray Seokmyeon later.” Mazdari’s face twisted. “I think I made him mad.”

“You know, I’m still hung up on the kraken,” Yan said faintly.

“As am I. Mazdari, you fought a kraken?”

Finally, I’m being appreciated, Mazdari thought. “I kind of want to do that again,” he said out loud.

“…Were you hurt as a child?”

Mazdari laughed and flicked a tongue of fire towards Yan, who dispelled it with nary a thought.

“Well, anyways, we know the story,” Yan grunted. “What more could there be?”

Mazdari tilted his head. “There was a conversation we had at high noon.”

“At hIgH nOoN.” Yan mocked.

O~O

The way Basen looked at Mazdari, it was with that vague, diplomatic distrust of the prince of one kingdom to an entity of interest from another kingdom his own wasn’t quite on good terms with—which was to say, Basen was a step above total hostility, and that was it.

“Your ships are following Heukrin.” He observed unhappily.

“They’re not mine!” Mazdari said cheerfully.

“But you’re on them.” Lavina retorted mulishly.

Lavina, Lavina, you can’t be serious Lavina…

You’re acquainted with cruelty, so why…?

“Lavina, you pass judgment too early!” Mazdari exclaimed, “I’m almost hurt!” Lavina’s face soured so deeply it was almost comical. “Besides,” Mazdari continued, “I’m here to serve my own interests. I’m always around to serve my own interests. You know that.”

Lavina shook her head, the tilt of her shoulders something recognizably sad. “I know,” she said, and the words seemed laden with untold amounts of meaning.

“Do you truly have nothing—no one to fight for?” Basen asked suddenly. Everything about him was unnaturally still. A strange sight, certainly, for a lizardman who was almost always moving. The First Prince of Heukrin stared at Mazdari, indescribable.

“I…” Mazdari’s throat felt dry. He felt unmoored. From one moment to the next, he became hyperaware of the sway of the ship, and it was as if his talons could no longer grip to the wood. His bones were too light. His weight couldn’t keep himself standing. He—He was being held up by a gentle hand on his shoulder, and the First Prince of Heukrin was significantly closer than he was before, and his eyes were gold (weren’t Lakrak’s eyes also gold?), and his eyes had red shadows around them, and his jaw was sharp, and his head had ridges, and—

(Mazdari had heard many a tall tale sung about the second and third princes. Their beauty was endless. The kind of demure, lovely beauty characteristic of Zaol. The First Prince had his own hymns, of course, sung in seedy bars by those with more booze than nerve, but Mazdari thought:

None of them truly capture him)

“I fight for myself.” Mazdari managed.

Basen pulled Mazdari forward slightly, and Mazdari stumbled. “Careful,” the Prince said offhandedly. Then, “That must be lonely.”

“…Not really.”

“Oh.” Basen hesitated. “Well, perhaps you’re more capable than me then. I certainly would feel lonely if I only had myself to fight for.”

Mazdari, for a scant moment, thought of his fallen clan, thought about fighting for them.

He felt nothing.

“If,” Mazdari said slowly, “If I, perhaps, wanted to find something, or someone, to fight for… What would you recommend?”

Basen tilted his head, tail flicking behind him. “My first choice… Hm, well that would always be Night Sky, I’m afraid.”

“You’re afraid?”

Basen chuckled, and Mazdari did not know why that was the sweetest sound he’d heard in literally his entire life. “I’m aware of how you wizards dislike divinity. I personally don’t support it but—”

“What about you?”

Basen choked mid-sentence. “What?”

“What if I fought for you?” Mazdari stared straight into Basen’s eyes, half issuing a challenge, half attempting to assure him that he was not, in fact, insane like his rotten hand was saying.

Basen’s face twisted, like he couldn’t quite comprehend Mazdari’s words. “What…?”

Mazdari couldn’t help but trace his face. The lines of struggle, the vague humor surfacing—it had been less than five hours of actual interaction, and Mazdari was almost 100% sure that Basen would play his words off as a joke.

In the end, Basen did play it off as a joke.

O~O

“…which was fine.” Mazdari said, poking at the fire. “I’m not mad at all.”

“That’s the calmest I’ve ever seen you livid.” Talay admitted. “You shouldn’t hide your feelings though—”

“I’m not mad, Talay.” Mazdari scoffed. “I just know I’ll need to prove him at some point. I—”

Mazdari.

“—hm?”

There’s someone at the entrance of the cave.

It went a little bit like this:

Yan’s ears flicked.

Talay cursed softly.

Mazdari groaned.

Lakrak entered the cave, blue butterflies shrouding his frame, and he threw down a divine beast.

O~O

“You are all tense in a strange way,” Lakrak observed, chewing on a slab of divine meat. Mazdari stared at the fire and flicked his wrist to keep it going just a little bit stronger. “Is my presence truly that unnerving?”

“Well, I wouldn’t quite call it that…” Yan looked away, lip twisting. It’s just awkward, was left unsaid, a hanging guillotine on the necks of those ‘in the know’.

“Lakrak, sir.” Talay leaned forward slightly, and Mazdari felt an impending sense of doom. “Firstly, thank you for the meal.” Lakrak nodded and smiled—all very routine. “Secondly, might we know what you think about your current descendants?”

Mazdari choked.

Lakrak hummed, idly slapping Mazdari’s back to dislodge the piece of meat that had gotten stuck. “Which one? They’re all excellent.”

“The oldest. Basen.”

Wow, this is like some really elaborate humiliation ritual they’re making you go through.

Please stop.

“Ah…” Lakrak’s face fell into thought, and Mazdari noticed, with a sharp burst of clarity, that though Lakrak’s eyes shone with divinity, for some reason, he could not help but feel that Basen’s eyes in the oceanside sun seemed all the brighter. “He’s a capable commander. If I had him in my army back in the day, he would likely have been a Chosen, no doubt.likely would have outshone his peers. Yur probably would have taken him under his wing.” Lakrak paused. “Or I would’ve done so myself. He truly is talented in the ways of the militant.”

Talay nodded succinctly. “Thank you for your thoughts.”

Lakrak smiled cheerily. “No problem!”

And the conversation broke off and continued at the same time, the weight of Night Sky’s visit hanging over their heads like a guillotine. The thought persisted.

Night Sky does not need to punish you or force you into doing what he wants.

The pervasive feeling of having choice, only to doubt if it ever really mattered.

If, perhaps, it had been a few weeks earlier, Mazdari would have cursed out the heavens. As it was… Well.

Mazdari had never been religious, but looking at Basen, he felt the sudden, irrational urge to drop to his knees and loudly proclaim his gratitude to Night Sky for creating such a fine fucking specimen.

Then, as if laughing at him, one of Lakrak’s blue butterflies landed on Mazdari’s beak. It flapped its wings once. Twice. Then, it sat.

“You,” Yan groused, begrudgingly realizing the message for what it was, “Are a cosmic fucking joke, Mazdari.”

Mazdari could only laugh.

O~O

Mazdari did not know why he was so enraptured with Basen. It was odd. Maybe it was the sheer contrast between him and the royal family of Seokmyeon he was familiar with, or maybe it was the similarities despite it all.

Mazdari did not know.

Maybe he’s just a pretty face, rotten hand offered weakly.

One would think I’d be more accustomed to Garuda beauty standards, Mazdari thought dryly.

Well, you spent some time in prison and then some more time in the Seokmyeon royal court. Perhaps you caught their madness.

Maybe.

Or maybe it was the madness inherent to all mages. That kind of madness that saw something that didn’t fit their preconceived notions and standards and drove them to decipher it. To hold it close. To peel it back layer by layer and understand what sat at its core.

Mazdari wanted to know what made Basen the way he was. Mazdari did not know why he wanted this. Mazdari wanted to cover Basen with his wings so no one could see the peeled back layers.

Mazdari did not believe in love at first sight before this moment.

O~O

“You really are a cosmic joke.” Yan insisted. “You know nothing about this guy—nothing! I won’t even touch on the fact that he’s literal royalty, but you’ve spent literally two days with him, and he probably thinks nothing of you—”

“Yeah, that’s irritating,” Mazdari admitted.

“—so why the hell are you having such a drastic reaction?”

Mazdari did not know.

“Perhaps Mazdari just enjoys the sight of lizardmen?” Talay offered.

Yan grimaced. Mazdari sighed. “Maybe I came out of the egg defective,” he suggested.

Yan stared at him silently, an odd surreal weight to her gaze in place of the snarking agreement Mazdari had expected. “You’re not defective,” she said.

“…Perhaps not.”

A moment.

Two.

Three.

“Well,” Talay broke the silence. “We have a plan to execute, do we not?”

0~o~0

The next time Mazdari saw Basen, they were (thankfully) fighting on the same side. They were also fighting a dragon on a walking fortress, which was entirely irrelevant despite the numerous bruises and broken bones Mazdari received from the altercation (Basen apologized for every single one and sat at Mazdari’s bedside for it all).

(“Why did you do it?” Basen asked, “You had all the rights to refuse. If it came down to it, I would have crawled into the dragon’s mouth myself.”

Mazdari could have said anything in that moment. Could have said, I wanted the glory, or The dragon was more interested in me anyway, or I just wanted to. He could have said anything.

“I did it,” Mazdari managed, “Because I found someone to fight for.”

Basen tilted his head, clawed fingers rubbing against the knuckles of Mazdari’s rotten hand like they weren’t afraid of catching a non-contagious sickness. “Oh? Who?”

Mazdari smiled smugly. “You.”

It was said like another jokingly flirting line. Basen’s face twisted into that odd expression again, and he laughed. Mazdari was not sure if he understood.

Still, he treasured the feeling of Basen’s fingers against his knuckles, however long they would have lasted)

Elsewhere, Choi Sungwoon smiled.