Femslash February

by MouseBird

Summary:

This is where I'll be posting most of my femslash February stuff. It will mostly be moraghid, though there might be a few other ships, and maybe some other fandoms too. The ships will be in the chapter names if it isn't moraghid.

Notes:

Honestly, I just wanted to write the word jazzed a lot.

Chapter 1: A Real Jazzy Time, Except Not

One particular thing about humans is that they, just, get real jazzed when their home is mentioned. Brighid couldn't really judge, as she too became slightly jazzed when the comedian mentioned Alba Cavanich. The rest of the people there seemed to be pretty excited too, as the crowd became alive with cheering and hollering. The comedian hadn't even told a joke yet. It wasn't a lucky guess at all, as not only were they in Alba Cavanich but, also, in a shitty night club. Tourists with any sense would have picked a more exciting place to be.

Admittedly, this wasn't Brighid's usual venue, either. Mòrag had actually been the one to suggest this place, saying something on the lines of wanting to learn how to improve her sense of humor. Brighid wished that she picked somewhere nicer.

The comedian wasn't half bad though, and he somehow managed to get Brighid even more jazzed when he mentioned Mòrag. They say home is where the heart is, and her heart was definitely with Mòrag.

That small bit of good will quickly faded away when the so called jokes actually started. The short version of it was that he was just calling Mòrag a stuck up bitch. The long version of it was that he was calling her a bunch of other insults too.

Brighid gritted her teeth together to stop her from shouting at him.

The jokes seemed to be landing well enough with the audience, though, as half of them were laughing. The other half were staring right at Mòrag and Brighid. Mòrag was out of her uniform, so she might not have been instantly recognizable, but Brighid's flames gave them away, especially since the nightclub was so poorly lit.

The comedian must have noticed them too, before the jokes even started, as they were sitting near the stage. He must have had some sort of death wish.

"Lady Mòrag, let's burn this place down," Brighid whispered to Mòrag.

"No, it's not the owner's fault," Mòrag said. She looked over at some well dressed old man who was mouthing apologizes at them. The owner, presumably. Mòrag gave him a small nod for reassurance.

"Let's find his house and burn that down, then."

"No, that is way too far. It's not like this is the worst thing I have heard people say about me, anyways. Let's just ignore it."

"Hmm, if you say so. The offer is still there if you change your mind."

"Truly, that will not be necessary," Mòrag said.

At the same time, the comedian said, "Now, don't let me get started on that Jewel of Mor Ardain."

"Ignore what I just said, we are burning his house to the ground."

"My, that was fast."

Mòrag got up and offered her hand to Brighid. Brighid accepted it and smiled. The two rushed out of the nightclub before they could hear any more distasteful jokes. The owner was still mouthing apologizes at them as they left.

The comedian would probably be the opposite of jazzed once he found his house burned down.

Chapter 2: Lipstick

Summary:

Mòrag gets Brighid some lipstick, but Brighid thinks it would look better on her.

Mòrag's arms were sore, not from battle or working out, but from holding too many shopping bags. It was her fault that there were so many anyways, because she couldn't stop herself from buying so many gifts for Brighid.

She had given a bag to Brighid, and dropped the rest on the floor. Brighid picked out a tube of lipstick from it and put it on. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror.

"I don't think this one really suits me," Brighid said.

"Really? It looks good on you," Mòrag said.

"I think it's more your shade, Lady Mòrag. Try it on."

Mòrag went to pick up the lipstick, but Brighid snatched it away from her. "...That's not what I meant."

Mòrag pinched her eyebrows together. "But you said-" She was cut off by Brighid pressing her lips against hers, her hands grabbing onto Mòrag's back and pushing her close. The lipstick discarded on the table.

...Oh. Mòrag pressed back, hard. She did need to try on the lipstick, after all. She felt a laugh come from Brighid's throat and vibrate against her lips.

They pulled apart, the lipstick now smudged on Brighid's lips. Mòrag assumed it was, also, the same way on hers.

"Hmm, you still need more," Brighid said and kissed her again. And again. And again.

Once they were out of breath, lips slightly swollen, lipstick smudged to hell and back, Mòrag said, "Well? How does it look?"

Brighid handed her the lipstick. "On second thought, maybe the traditional way would have been better."

Chapter 3: Mòrag Versus the Machine

Summary:

Sometimes the hardest of foes can just be a claw machine.

Notes:

I'm cheating a little because I wrote about half of this before February but uh, shhh.
Inspired by this video, which may or may not be kind of nightmare inducing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiXqR1Uf28o

In battle, it was of utmost importance to guess the possible moves that the enemy could make, and the probability of them. In most cases the probability was unknown, and all Mòrag could do was just give her best educated guess. If she was wrong, that could lead to deaths of her own soldiers.

In this case, she knew the exact probabilities. It was 1/12, which was the empire-wide required pay out for machines like this. To be precise, the claw machine would grip hard enough to pick up a stuffed animal every one out of twelve attempts, so Mòrag knew exactly when it would happen.

Despite its predictability, the claw machine was still a formidable foe. It had strategically placed the stuffed animal that Brighid wanted right at the bottom. It was some sort of canine with dark fur and a little hat on its head.

"It reminds me of you," Brighid had said.

"Let me guess, it's the hat," Mòrag said.

"That and it's expression."

The canine plushie's face was covered by all of the stuffed animals. How Brighid could see it was beyond Mòrag.

Brighid had watched Mòrag win the first two stuffed animals but then left to go play some other games in the arcade, leaving Mòrag to her own devices.

Some bystanders had yelled at her to stop hogging the machine, one of them being Zeke. Offering them one of the other stuffed animals that she had won got them to go away.

Somehow, Mòrag had managed to win every plushie in the damned machine besides the one that Brighid wanted. She still couldn't see the expression on its face, because it was pressed against the ground of the machine.

The other stuffed animals surrounded her and the machine like dead soldiers on a battlefield.

Good thing it was now the 1/12 time that the claw actually worked. Mòrag inserted the last coin she had on her.

She pressed her face against the glass of the machine, making sure the claw was right on top of the target. She pressed the drop button and the claw grabbed the animal by its feet. It lifted the feet a little before it fell through the claw. The head remained on the ground the whole time. Mòrag wanted to cry but she was in public so instead she took a deep breath to regain her composure. Seemed like the battle would have to continue.

Mòrag squinted her eyes and studied her foe, trying to come up with her next attack plan. She saw that there was something shiny on its neck. A staple. The damned thing was stapled to the ground of the machine.

Ah, a change of tactics would be necessary; she would not let something like a simple staple defeat her.

She looked around for any ideas. She saw Brighid playing some game near her, and off in the distance a certain Nopon hopping up and down as a machine dispensed an ever growing pile of tickets.

"Brighid," she called, "Please look after the machine for me."

Brighid came over and saw the carnage beneath Mòrag's feet. "Lady Mòrag, you don't have to go through all of that trouble for that one stuffed animal," she said.

"Nonsense, I won't let this machine get the best of me."

"Ah, yes, of course. I'll watch over this machine in your absence then."

"Thank you Brighid, I won't be long." Mòrag headed toward Tora, and the pile of tickets that was now larger than he was.

As she approached Tora, Mòrag could see that the game he was playing was one of those games of luck where a wheel was spinned and the player gets however many tickets that was written on the ledge that the pin landed on. She would have assumed that he had just won the jackpot, if she hadn't caught a glimpse of tools under the tickets. She would have yelled at him for breaking into the machine, if it wouldn't have made her look like somewhat of a hypocrite after what she was going to ask him to do.

After explaining the situation to him, Tora cried, "Meh, staple remover waste of tickets!"

Mòrag sighed. "I'll buy you a week's worth of tasty sausages if you get it."

"Tora take words back. Tickets good use for staple remover." He scampered off towards the prizes, tickets trailing after him, tools forgotten on the ground. Mòrag could see that a panel that was buried under the tickets had been removed from the machine too.

She screwed the panel back in before returning to the machine. Brighid nodded at her and stepped away from it, the machine remaining untouched in her absence.

"What are you planning?" Brighid asked, an eyebrow raised.

"You'll see," Mòrag said.

Brighid thinned her lips and gave her driver a skeptical look, but didn't ask anymore questions.

True to his word, Tora returned at the damned machine with the staple remover. And, also, a body pillow with a maid on it. Mòrag held her hands behind her back to prevent herself from reaching for her whipswords and burning it right then and there.

"Thank you Tora. Now, can you go into the machine and remove the stapler from the plushie?" Mòrag asked.

"Perhaps friend Mòrag is blind, Tora too biggipon to fit in there."

"Tora, please try." Mòrag stared at Tora. Her eyes begged for an escape from this hell.

He swallowed. "Two weeks worth of tasty sausages."

"Deal."

Tora dropped the body pillow next to the pile of stuffed animals. Brighid 'accidently' stepped on it, burning the most of the face off, but Tora was too busy trying to make himself as small as possible to notice. He sucked in his stomach in and attempted to cramp his body into the machine. He was only able to get his head in, though he was able to slip his ear into the machine.

He went as far as he could, the staple remover hanging two feet away from the stuffed animal.

Mòrag growled. Fuck, it wasn't good enough. She then did what any reasonable person would do, and body checked Tora with all her might.

It didn't help at all, his ear was still dangling helplessly above the staple.

"Ow!" Tora yelled. He pushed back, causing Mòrag to fall. She landed on the pile of stuffed animals, softening the plow. Tora escaped the machine with a pop, landing right on top of Mòrag. She pushed him off to the side and Brighid came over to help her up.

She gritted her teeth. Sometimes there was no other option in battle but to just use brute force and hope for the best. She drew her whipswords.

"Brighid, hellfire!" she yelled.

"Meh meh meh! Mòrag, Brighid, wait!" It was too late though, the claw machine was on fire. Mòrag reached through melted glass and ripped the plushie off the floor. It was slightly scorched, but in much better shape compared to the machine.

"For you," Mòrag said, handing the plushie to Brighid.

"Why thank you, Lady Mòrag," Brighid said. She gave Mòrag's cheek a quick peck.

Mòrag leaned into Brighid, partly to use her to hide how red her cheeks were from Tora, who wouldn't have noticed anyways since he was too busy trying to put out the flames on his pillow, which had somehow gotten set on fire during the attack. She'd probably have to buy him at least a month's worth of tasty sausages to make up for that. The other reason was to finally see the expression on the damn stuffed animal. It was scowling. Mòrag couldn't help but scowl too.

Brighid laughed, but it was cut short when water hit her. Right, sprinklers were very much still a thing.

Mòrag threw her coat over Brighid and escorted her out of the arcade.

One of the employees had ran after them, yelling at Mòrag about paying for the damages. She'll have to pay them back later, but not before writing a strongly worded letter about not resorting to such cheap tactics as to staple stuffed animals to the claw machine.

Chapter 4: I Say Dance, You Say Dance but, Like, in a Different Accent

Summary:

Mòrag calls someone the c word.

Notes:

Just a warning that the c word is used a bit in this chapter. The chapter title is from Pickles from a the Jar by Courtney Barnett.

Also, sadly the inspiration for this came from WikiHow, of all things. One on how to speak in a Scottish accent to be exact.

Also Also, sorry to any weapon engineer type people, or Scottish people, and especially to Scottish weapon engineers.

It was a well known fact that all Ardanians could speak at least two languages, granted those two languages were variations of each other. Mòrag could speak three, those two, and some ancient tongue that she had to learn to keep traditions. Brighid could speak two, one of them being the ancient tongue, and understand about two and a quarter.

It was a good thing Mòrag was there to translate, or Brighid would have been about three quarters lost.

Some Ardanian woman had managed to stumble upon a military weapon testing ground, while the military was testing new weapons. The military wasn't exactly a fan of harming their own citizens, so Mòrag and Brighid were sent down to go deal with her. They would have sent someone of lower rank, but the only other people there were the experts on the new weaponry. They weren't exactly the most equipped with dealing with people, but it wasn't like that was in their job description, anyways.

"Citizen, it is dangerous for you to be here. Please leave at once," Mòrag said.

Insead of leaving, the woman had the audacity to actually yell at Mòrag, though Brighid had no idea what she was saying. Well, the only thing Brighid did pick up was that she called Mòrag a cunt.

"She wants me to speak more casually," Mòrag translated.

"Do whatever it takes," Brighid said.

Mòrag nodded. She spoke, and this time Brighid was able to pick up a few more things. She said something about bikes, though neither of them had a bike with them. Brighid wasn't even sure if Mòrag knew how to ride a bike. Brighid wasn't sure if she even knew how to ride one herself.

Mòrag had, also, called the woman a cunt.

Whatever she had said seemed to have done the trick, as the woman left.

"I politely told the woman to go away," Mòrag said.

"You called the woman a cunt," Brighid said.

"In a polite way, but yes."

"Hmm. Why don't you ever call me a cunt?"

If Mòrag was drinking something, she would have spat it out, but she wasn't, so instead she just twitched a little. "What? I could never insult you, Brighid!"

"But you insulted that woman."

"Yes, but that was different."

"You like being insulted yourself."

"W-we're in public, Brighid!" Mòrag motioned towards the weapon experts, who were paying them no mind. They were too busy fretting with the weaponry. Even if they had heard, Brighid doubted that they would truly understand what they were talking about. It wasn't in their job description, anyways.

"Just once."

Mòrag sighed. "Fine."

Silence.

"Well, I'm waiting," Brighid said. Her arms were crossed.

"Now?"

Ah, she needed to push Mòrag. "You're not getting any younger."

"Brighid, you're a c-cu-," Mòrag took a deep breath and managed to choke the word through, "Cunt."

Brighid thinned her lips. "Not good enough. You're trying again next time we are in private."

Mòrag opened and closed her mouth several times, with only squeaks of sound coming out. It was a well known fact that all Ardanians could speak at least two languages, but at that moment, Mòrag could only speak zero.

Chapter 5: Of Shrimp Stuffed Bras and Ring Pops

Summary:

Mòrag and Brighid go to a wedding and Mòrag thinks about getting married.

Brighid's the only other person who, also, thinks that the bride looks more terrified than happy. Anyone else Mòrag talks to just tells her she's imagining it. Just look at her wide smile, they tell her, even if her eyes don't match it. Mòrag can't really imagine why marrying someone twice, or thrice of one's own age would be a happy occasion. Sure, the groom is a rich senator, but the bride's so young, she might even be a few years younger than Mòrag. Actually, Mòrag can think of one reason why the bride would be happy. She could be a gold digger.

Mòrag would try to do something, but the couple will probably divorce soon enough. The senator has already had five other wives before her, the longest marriage between them only lasting three years. Plus, her interfering might just do more harm than good. Dealing with things like this requires a certain gentle touch that she sorely lacks.

She's only here for formality's sake, anyways. She went to two of the previous weddings of this senator's, the other ones were before she was born.

Typically she would bring Brighid as her plus one to these sort of things, but Brighid got her own invitation this time. She wouldn't have brought anyone, but Zeke had begged her to bring him because he wanted free food. She ended up caving after he wouldn't stop begging her until she said yes.

Brighid had brought Pandoria, who, also, wouldn't stop begging. She kept going on about how this has always been a dream of hers, to go to a wedding with her prince.

The two are now bothering the catering staff, taking as much shrimp off their trays has they can carry. Pandoria has shrimp tails sticking out of her clothing. While Mòrag's grateful that Zeke actually bothered to not only put on a proper shirt, but to wear a suit, she bets his pockets are lined with shrimp too. If Zeke wasn't Tantalese royalty, then the senators would have been up his ass due to his improper behavior.

Instead, some of them are sending their daughters to try to flirt with him. He looks at Mòrag each time one of them get close to him, his eyes begging for help. She never really does have to step in, the look alone gets most of the women to back off. Pandoria frowns every time he does, but she smiles just the same when he looks back to her.

Mòrag can't blame him for sending them the wrong message, she's doing the same.

Usually, she would just tell the sons of politicians and noblemen that she's remaining celibate due to her job, but now she can just glance at Zeke and they get the hint instead of continuing to pester her.

It's easier than explaining her actual relationship status. She bets if she just outright told them, some of them would still try hitting on her. It happened a couple times already. Brighid being a blade isn't really the reason why; two senator's ex-wives are blades and no one seems to regard those marriages any different. Mòrag knows it's because she and Brighid are the same gender.

It's technically legal for them to date, and even marry, but that wouldn't mean it wouldn't cause any problems. Being a part of the royal family and a high ranking military officer doesn't make it any better. The public basically had to step on the senators' feet to get them to pass same sex marriage, too.

Despite that, it's not like they have to go through great pains to hide the relationship. They go on dates in public and have even kissed a few times. Even now, they are holding hands under the table.

No one really says anything about it. Maybe they just think they are close as Driver and Blade, or as friends. Maybe they're just being polite, though Mòrag doubts that.

The people around her choose to talk to her about Zeke, instead. They ask her how she feels about him, so she tells them the truth. She tells them he's a friend, a close friend, but nothing more.

They laugh and wink at her. She doesn't wink back.

The caterers do eventually catch a break from Zeke and Pandoria. The two are forced to sit down with everyone for the cake cutting ceremony.

A blade of the senator's, and, also, one of his ex wives, hands the young bride her sword. She cuts the cake with a shaking hand.

---

The walk back is miserable, mostly because Zeke and Pandoria smell more fishy than they usually do. Thank the architect that they aren't staying in the same inn together. Mòrag and Brighid's bed is much more comfortable than any one in an inn's too, not that most people know that they share a bed.

Once they return to the castle, both Brighid and Mòrag hop into the shower to get some of that fish smell that lingered off of them. Together. After that they don't go to bed immediately. Mòrag still has some paperwork to finish. Going to a wedding is no excuse to have unfinished work.

Brighid usually tries to sleep when she has to work this late, but she's staring at Mòrag instead, or rather Mòrag thinks she is. Mòrag wonders if she's thinking about the same thing that she is. Brighid is probably waiting for her to say something, so she does.

Mòrag places her pen down. She barely made a dent in the pile of papers. "Brighid, what do you think about getting married?"

"I'm surprised you're bringing that up after this particular wedding."

Mòrag shrugs. "Just been on my mind." If that senator can declare to the world that he's with someone that's young enough to be his granddaughter, then why can't she do the same with Brighid?

"Are you just jealous that the senator has had many weddings while you have had none?"

"A little," Mòrag admits. Now that she thinks of it, Brighid has been around for a long time. She must have- no, Brighid wouldn't remember any of them anyways. It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. She knows it's different than that senator's many marriages, but she can't stop herself from asking, "Have you been married before?"

Brighid's shoulders lower, and Mòrag can see her eyes shift away from her under her eyelids. "I have, but most of them them weren't-" Brighid swallows and tries to regain her composure but Mòrag can tell that she's still looking away. "I wasn't very happy with a lot of them, in love with the other person even less. At least, that's what I wrote."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring back, ah…" Mòrag trails off. They aren't exactly memories, so she isn't sure what to call them.

Brighid's still looking away when she speaks. "No, no, it's fine. I know you didn't mean too. Anyways, to answer your original question, I do want to get married. To you."

"Good. I would have died if you said anyone else."

Brighid laughs, and her eyes finally return to Mòrag. She wasn't really joking, but Mòrag can't help but smile.

"One of us has to propose first," Brighid says.

"I suppose so." Proposing now would be too predictable though, and it's not like Mòrag has a ring on her anyways. It wouldn't be special enough too. Brighid deserves the best, of course.

But Brighid's pulling something out. It's a ring, well, a Ring Pop™. She's eating it, or rather trying to eat it since the plastic is already melting in her hand. She gives up eating it normally and just pops the whole candy part into her mouth.

Right, Mòrag would have to find a fire resistant ring, and a jeweler that would keep quiet about the Special Inquisitor having such a request.

As fun as it is to watch Brighid struggle to eat hard candy, Mòrag returns to her paperwork. She comes up with a list of possible jewelers in the back of her head.

Brighid momentarily interrupts her by grabbing her head and giving her a quick kiss. She shoves the hard candy into her mouth. Mòrag immediately spits it out.

Chapter 6: Complications

Summary:

Nia tries to figure out how Mòrag broke her wrist.

Notes:

There's no outright smut in this, but things of the sexual nature are hinted at/discussed a little.

Mòrag and Brighid usually keep to themselves when the group has free time like this, which is why Nia is surprised when she sees the two approach her. She soon figures out why when she sees Mòrag wince in pain.

Mòrag's holding her wrist, which is bent at a weird angle. She has her glove off and there's something shiny on her hand too, mostly clear but with a slight blue tinge. It looks like she tried to rub some of it off, but was unsuccessful in doing so.

What the hell happened?

Maybe the two were arm wrestling? But then what would that stuff on Mòrag's hand be? It looks a bit too sticky to be sweat, and the blue isn't strong enough to be pure ether. They could have gotten into a fight, but then why does Mòrag look so down while Brighid looks so triumphant?

"Nia, can you please heal my wrist," Mòrag says, her eyes avoiding Nia.

It smells too.

"What's that stuff on your hand?" Nia asks.

Mòrag's oddly silent, her face is much redder than usual. Brighid looks like she's trying to hold in a laugh.

"Seriously, I need to know. If it's poisonous or something then it could cause some complications."

Brighid isn't even trying to hold in her laughter anymore. "Oh trust me, it isn't," she says between giggles.

The blue of the substance glows, just like Brighid's flames.

Wait, Nia thinks she knows what it is. it's…

Oh. Fucking gross.

"Please just heal it," Mòrag says, her voice pinched.

Nia uses some of her water abilities to clean off Mòrag's hand since there is no way she's touching that shit. Mòrag hisses through the pain, but she soon stops as Nia heals it.

Mòrag rolls her wrist around to test it. "Thank you, Nia," she says.

"Yeah, um, remember to use protection next time," Nia says dumbly.

Mòrag looks at her this time, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Um, just be safe," Nia clarifies.

Brighid puts a hand on Mòrag's shoulder. "We'll try," she says.

The two leave to go do... something. Nia does not want to think about what that is, exactly.

She spends the rest of the looking for something she can hit her head on, just so she can forget this whole interaction.

Chapter 7: Continuing the Lessons (Seo/Kashima)

Summary:

Kashima thinks about why she's continuing with her singing lessons.

Notes:

Kind of getting burnt out a little so here's the first non xenoblade and non moraghid drabble.

I hopped off the gsnk train a while ago, but Kashima/Seo has a special place in my heart, so here's a short, fairly rushed piece about them.

Spoilers for chapter 98.

Kashima doesn't really need to be taking singing lessons anymore. It's not that she had improved or anything, in fact as much as she likes to believe differently, she's pretty sure she is just as bad as when she started. It's that Hori had heard her sing, and somehow, he had liked it. Since that whole thing is now over, she doesn't have to be taking them anymore. But she wants to.

Part of it is because she does want to get better at singing, not for the sake of her pride or for impressing Hori, but because it's nice to have the option of doing musicals open.

But musicals were never really her thing, if she's being honest. She likes them fine enough, but she prefers plays.

She doesn't really mind not having the option to do them, anyways. She's already been type-casted into being the prince, and she's fine with that.

She'd be lying to herself if she says that was the real reason, though. She just likes being with Seo, and the lessons are the perfect excuse to do that.

She and Seo, they balance each other out. Put Kashima in a room with a bunch of girls, and with a charming smile and a few swift words, the whole room will fall in love with her. Put Seo in the same situation, and she'll find something to say that will make everyone want to murder her. Together, Kashima's charm will prevent the girls from murdering Seo, and Seo's 'charm' will stop them from hounding Kashima.

While Kashima does enjoy entertaining her fan club, small moments being away from them are nice too.

There's never a boring moment with Seo around. She's always finding something to do, some way to cause trouble.

She's also the only girl who hasn't fallen for Kashima's charms. Even Sakura had fallen for her, once. It's nice to not be put upon a pedestal, even if Kashima sometimes wishes that it did work on Seo.

At one of her singing lessons, Kashima finds herself wondering out loud, "Do you think these lessons will come to an end?"

"Huh?" Seo says, taking out ear plugs.

Kashima repeats herself.

"If you keep improving at your current rate then we'll be here until the end of the world," Seo says.

Kashima smiles. That's just the way she likes it.

Chapter 8: Rings

Summary:

Mòrag and Brighid both hide their rings.

The rings are very hard to notice. Mòrag wears hers under a glove. If one knows to look for it, a faint outline can be seen.

She's pretty sure none of her traveling companions have noticed. If they have then they made no comment on it.

She sometimes forgets it's even there herself. She's only reminded of its existence the rare few moments when she has her gloves off.

Brighid doesn't even wear hers on her hand. She wanted to, but the ring kept falling off. The ring is the right size for her hand, but the heat of it causes the metal to expand, so it is hard to for it to stay on. Instead she wears it with a necklace, the ring hidden under the neck piece of her dress.

Unlike Mòrag, Brighid is constantly aware that the ring is there. The neck piece presses it so uncomfortably against her chest, and, when the dress is off, she can see the mark it left on her skin. It's still worth it, though. Even with the pain it brings, the ring is still Brighid's favorite gift from Mòrag.

Sometimes, Brighid is tempted to put on the necklace on top of her dress, and, sometimes, Mòrag considers going a day without her gloves, but they aren't there yet. Someday they'll be ready to show off the rings, but for now just wearing them is good enough.

It's not like they need to see the rings, anyways. When Brighid takes Mòrag's hand, she likes to run her fingers over the ring, just to remind herself that it's there. When Mòrag sleeps at night, she presses her head against Brighid's chest to feel the shape of the ring against her cheek. The feeling of it helps ward off her worries when she drifts off to sleep.

The rings may be hard to notice, but as long as the other knows that they are there, that's all that really matters.

Chapter 9: The Games We Play (Brighid/Mythra)

Summary:

A Brighid/Mythra modern AU. Mythra prepares to kick Brighid's ass one last time, as the arcade they usually play at is shutting down.

Brighid had to come. It was the last day that the arcade was going to be open, and Mythra would be damned if she couldn't kick Brighid's ass one last time.

And she did end up coming, though she did cut close to closing time.

The two made eye contact and nodded at each other. Brighid and Mythra started up the fighting game that they always play for one last time.

"Cheap shot," Mythra said as her character fell to the ground, her health at zero.

"It's called using tactics." Brighid and Mythra both inserted more coins, and the game started up again.

"I use tactics."

Brighid rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you just mash buttons."

“I do not!” Mythra said, as she mashed buttons as fast as she could.

It seemed that her button mashing tactics worked well enough, as she won the next round.

More coins slotted into the machine, and the game started again. The last one.

The only other sounds in the arcade, ignoring all the annoying start up jingles, was the sounds of Mythra's frantic button mashing, the soft clicks of Brighid's button pushing, and a sweeping broom from a lone employee. The rest of the customers had left some time ago.

Somehow, both of their characters managed to have only one hit point left. Brighid set up an attack, anticipating Mythra's button mashing to continue, but she didn't. Taking note of Brighid's strategies, Mythra dodged the attack. It left Brighid wide open for one of her own.

Mythra had won, but it didn't feel like a victory. What was the point of all of this, if Mythra couldn't continue to beat Brighid's ass every week of her life?

"Congratulations," Brighid said.

Mythra looked toward the screen. The flashing victory text felt like it was mocking her more than congratulating her. "Yeah, thanks."

"You don't seem all that happy about it."

Mythra sighed and stared at the buttons of the machine as if she was trying to etch them into her memory. This was the last time she'd be seeing them, anyways. "I mean, this is it, right?"

"Hmm? Just because the arcade is closing down doesn't mean our rivalry has to end."

"It won't be the same, though. The only other arcades around are the ones in the movie theaters, and even then they usually only have racing games."

"It won't be the same," Brighid echoed, "But it's not like we have to limit ourselves to arcade games or even other video games."

Other types of games, huh? "Oh, we could see who can make the other laugh during a movie."

Brighid glared at her and crossed her arms. "Of course you're the type of person that talks during movies."

Mythra matched her posture. She raised her head up and stared at Brighid down her nose. "Yeah? Got a problem?"

"Yes, that is very rude and inconsiderate of the people around you. I guess it's no surprise a simpleton like you knows nothing about manners."

"You're just scared that you're going to lose, again."

"Am not."

"Are too!"

Brighid opened her mouth to say something, but a cough cut her off. An arcade employee glared at them both and pointed towards the clock. Oh, it was closing time.

"If you guys stay past closing one last time, on the last fucking day, I will kill you both and then kill myself and haunt your ghosts until the end of time," the employee said. The tone of her voice and look in her eyes said that she was not joking.

"We're going! We're going!" Mythra said. "Come on, let's take it somewhere else."

As the two exited, the fighting game switched to its start screen, begging for a player to insert a coin. The arcade employee unplugged the machine.

---

Turns out button mashing in a racing game just causes the gears to shift and the point of view to change. The race would have ended long ago, if one of the NPC cars hadn't somehow clipped through a wall.

"You drove here…" Brighid said, as she watched Mythra crash into a wall and then drive the other direction, again.

"That's different!" Mythra said. Behind her, a boy tapped his foot, waiting for his turn to play. He was going to have to wait, even if she lost to Brighid, there was no way she was losing to a car that was stuck in a wall.

"The movie's starting soon."

"I just want to finish this race."

"Fine then." Brighid leaned over, and placed her hands over Mythra's. They felt soft against the plastic of the game's wheel.

"What are you doing?" Mythra said. Brighid held the wheel still when Mythra tried to crash into yet another wall.

"You said you wanted to finish the race, so I'm helping you do just that."

Mythra sighed, and let Brighid guide her hands.

"Now that's how you do it," Brighid said, once she somehow managed to get Mythra passed the finish line.

"You may have won this one, but I'm winning the next!" Mythra said.

Brighid rolled her eyes, and the two headed to the movie. The boy jumped into the seat of the arcade machine, and his car immediately clipped into the wall.

No one ended up winning Mythra's movie game, as Mythra was unable to make Brighid laugh and Brighid refused to speak during the movie. If the game was about who made the biggest ass out of themselves, then Mythra would have won.

Since a tie would have been a lousy way to end the day, they played one more game. The goal of this one was to see who could top the other better. Brighid was the clear winner there, though Mythra liked to pretend that they tied.

This day might have been a loss for Mythra, but it didn't really matter. She would have so many more opportunities to kick Brighid's ass.

Chapter 10: Just Tired

Summary:

Rex notices something odd about Mòrag.

"Mòrag, are you alright?" Rex asked when he saw her and Brighid enter the inn's lobby.

"I'm perfectly fine, why do you ask?" Mòrag said. She and Brighid sat across from him.

"Er, well, your eyes seem bloodshot and there seems to be some sort of bruise on your neck," Rex said, motioning to the spot on his own neck.

Brighid coughed and Mòrag pulled her collar up higher. Mòrag turned away from Rex. There seemed to be something much more interesting than him on the floor. "I, uh, didn't get much sleep last night," she said.

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain-"

"Lady Mòrag's just tired. She'll be fine after drinking some coffee," Brighid said. Her lips were pulled into a thin smile, and Rex got the impression that he shouldn't press any further if he valued not being set on fire. Dying once was already painful enough, anyways.

"Coffee, yes. I just need some coffee," Mòrag said, rubbing at her eyes. She got up and extended a hand to Brighid. "Brighid, shall we?"

"Yes. Please excuse us, Rex," Brighid said, taking Mòrag's hand.

Rex's eyebrows furrowed as he watched the two exit. Was there something going on between them?

Chapter 11: A Day Off

Summary:

Mòrag and Brighid have different ideas about how a day off should be spent.

Notes:

Sorry for all of the short drabbles lately, I've been busy and it seems like that isn't going to let up any time soon :c

Mòrag tried to get ready for the day, but something grabbed at the back of her shirt. Shit, she had woken Brighid up.

"It's your day off, do you really have to get up so early?" Brighid said, her voice groggy from sleep.

"It's important to keep a constant sleep schedule, Brighid. Plus, I'll have more time to enjoy the time off, then."

Brighid let go of Mòrag's shirt, and sat up on the bed. If her eyes weren't already closed, Mòrag suspected she would be narrowing them. "More time to do what, exactly?"

"Erm, to go check on how the new recruit training is going."

Brighid stared at her, or maybe she had fallen asleep while sitting up, Mòrag couldn't tell. A sigh indicated that it was the former. "That's what you usually do."

"Yes, well, I don't know what else to do."

"For starters, you could go back to sleep. Then, later, I was thinking that we could do something together, like going to a restaurant and visiting that park that just opened."

"A date, then." Mòrag put a hand to her chin and closed her eyes, like she was deep in thought. "...But that's what I usually do," she said.

Brighid threw a pillow at her. It had a hand print in burned into its sheets. It purposely soared over Mòrag's head and hit the wall behind her with a soft thud.

"I jest. A date sounds wonderful. I'll swing by the military base real quick, and then pick you up afterwards," Mòrag said.

Brighid pressed her lips together and got up. "No, I'm already awake. I'll come with you."

Ah, it really is like any other day, then, Mòrag thought. Well, minus all the annoying paperwork.

Chapter 12: Bath Bombs: Part 1 (Sheba/Kora)

Summary:

Kora gets Sheba a bath bomb. It turns out that was a very bad idea.

Sheba was going on her daily hunt for members for her entourage out in the city of Alba Cavanich, when a familiar voice called out for her.

"Sheba, just the blady I was looking for!" A chipper voice said.

Sheba turned to it, and saw Kora standing there with a bag in her hand.

"I bought you a gift," Kora said.

"For us? Oh, you shouldn't have." Sheba didn't actually mean that, she just thought it would sound more polite than to just tell her to fork it over.

Kora fished into the bag and pulled out some sort of spherical object. "Here you go!" Kora held the object out in front of her.

"Thank you, Kora." Sheba took it and rolled the object around in her hand. It was dark purple in color and had sparkles all over it. It smelled sweet, like fruit mixed with some flowers. Some sort of candy, perhaps? Sheba brought it to her lips and opened her mouth to take a bite.

"No, silly, you aren't supposed to eat it, it's a bath bomb."

Sheba's eyes widened. She thought Kora was a friend, maybe even a potential member of her entourage, and yet she thought of pulling something like this. "You want to blow up my bath?" she yelled, a little too loudly. People's heads turned, but just for a second before they resumed on with their day, not wanting to get involved with whatever was going on with the two blades.

Kora giggled. "It's not that type of bomb! The lady at the counter told me that you put it in water and it turns it into different colors. Supposed to be very relaxing too."

"As fun as that sounds, we prefer to keep our bathtub water clear."

Kora's face fell. She shuffled her feet on the ground. "Aw, I thought you would enjoy it."

"But that doesn't mean we can't use it somewhere else. It would be a shame to let such a generous gift go to waste."

Kora turned her head to the side, not looking so sad anymore, but her eyebrows were pinched together. "But the inn we are staying in only has showers."

Sheba grinned. "You are thinking too small, dear Kora. There's always the hot springs."

---

When they entered the hot springs, they saw Mòrag and Brighid bathing. Rather, Mòrag was bathing, and Brighid was sitting behind her on the edge, rubbing her shoulders. Brighid stopped when she heard the two approach. Both of them turned around to face the newcomers.

"You aren't putting that in here," Mòrag said, eyeing the bath bomb in Sheba's hand.

"Aw, but where else can we use it?" Kora asked.

Mòrag looked at the bathtub that Sheba just spawned, but Sheba shook her head. "You can use one of the palace's baths, if you must."

"Wow, really? You're the bestest driver ever!" Kora said.

Mòrag gave her a polite smile, but the slight narrowing of her eyes indicated that she wanted them to leave.

Right, she probably just wanted to spent alone time with Brighid.

Sheba dragged Kora out of there before Mòrag or Brighid ended up setting them on fire.

---

One perk of being blades of the Special Inquisitor is that they could enter the castle whenever they wanted. One another perk was that no one questioned why they kept opening doors and peeking into rooms. Or maybe the castle staff didn't want to deal with their shenanigans. Either reason worked.

They eventually found a bathroom with a tub. It was surprisingly modest sized. Sheba was pretty sure that the royal bathtubs were bigger, so it was probably for guests or the castle staff.

Sheba turned on the faucet, but it was taking to long to fill the bath, so she used her water abilities to fill it up.

She tossed the bath bomb into it. It expanded and dissolved in the tub, turning the water a sparkly dark purple. It reminded Sheba of the night sky, except that it was in a bathtub, and during the day.

"It's pretty," Kora said.

Sheba dipped her finger in and spun it. The sparkles spiraled out from the motion. Maybe she created a black hole. "Hmm. We wonder what other bath bombs would look like."

"Oo, let's test it out," Kora said, bouncing on her feet. "I'm sure Mòrag wouldn't mind."

---

The castle was flooded with liquids of blues, greens, pinks, and all other colors that the human eye could possibly distinguish, and then some. Through the help of an embarrassing amount of water blades, the castle staff was somehow able to drain all of the mysterious liquids. The fight wasn't over yet, as the liquids left trails of dye, glitter, and flower petals in their wake. They, also, ruined most of the flooring around the bathroom, and some carpets too.

Insurance covered most of the damage, but the rest had to be paid out of pocket. Because Sheba and Kora didn't exactly have all that much money of their own after spending it on a countless amount of bath bombs, that meant it had to be paid by their driver. Luckily, being royalty and the Special Inquisitor meant that the money needed was trivial. Unluckily, many of the castle staff were threatening to quit if they had to clean up all that glitter, and replacing them would be untrivial, especially since some of them had been there long before Mòrag was even born, so she had to take matters into her own hands. Rather, she had to force Sheba and Kora to clean it themselves.

The castle staff were nice enough to leave them with some brooms and a dustpan. They didn't really help all that much, besides with the petals, but it was a nice gesture.

Sheba had a broom in hand, trying to sweep up the glitter. Instead of sweeping it away, it would just rearrange the glitter, with any glitter that had been swept up being replaced with glitter that had stuck itself to the bristles.

Kora held a dustpan still for Sheba, but there was barely any glitter on it. There was a lot on Kora, though. She resembled a vampire from a certain novel series that didn't exist in Alrest.

Still, it gave Sheba an idea.

"Our dearest Kora, in this light you look simply sparkling," Sheba said, grabbing Kora's hand and pulling her up. The glitter coated broom fell on the floor with a thump. Though, if no one was paying attention to it, did it really make a noise?

Kora's cheeks grew to be a healthy shade of pink, not unlike one of the bath bomb infused waters that had flooded this hall just a few moments ago. "Aw Sheba, you're such a charmer." Kora cleared her throat, and pulled Sheba closer to her. "And you know, even if all the glitter in this room had combined together into one big thing, it still wouldn't be able to hold a candle to the shimmer of your eyes."

Sheba was taken back. She was… flirting with her? Wait no, Kora might think they were just playing around like girl friends but not, say, girlfriends.

"Left you speechless, did I?"

"Ah no, we were just lost in your beauty." Ugh, that was such a cliche, she could have done better. Kora just surprised her, that was all.

Kora placed a hand under Sheba's chin. "Aw, you're trembling. Would a kiss make you feel better?"

She probably isn't straight then, Sheba thought. Maybe she usually is, but Mòrag is her driver, after all.

"One from you? Of course." Sheba wrapped an arm around Kora's back and pulled her close. She felt Kora's warm breaths on her face. She puckered her lips and-

A cough interrupted them before they could go any further.

Mòrag was staring at them, having come in to check on their progress. "You can make out after you're done cleaning all this shit up," she said.

Kora wiggled out of Sheba's grip and pouted. "You're such a mood killer, Mòrag! Don't you know how hard it is to set up the perfect mood, to be in the perfect mood for a kiss? Don't you know the pain of a maiden's heart when moments like this are ruined?" Kora said, placing her hand over her core crystal.

Mòrag gave her no reply, as she had left while Kora was in the middle of her speech.

Sheba picked up the broom and gave it a few sweeps. It still just rearranged glitter. This was going to take forever if they kept going at this rate, or until they returned to their core crystals. Whichever came first.

"Sweeping isn't going to cut it, we need a different strategy," Sheba said.

"How about blowing it away?" Kora said. She blew on some nearby glitter, it moved a minuscule amount. Maybe if they were as small as bacteria, it would have been helpful. "Or maybe not."

"No, that should work. We just need a stronger source of wind, and we have the perfect idea."

---

It turned out that getting Zenobia to blow the glitter away maybe wasn't the perfect idea. Sure, all the glitter was gone now, but so were some floors and walls. A lot of floors and walls.

When Mòrag came back again, well, to say that she wasn't happy would be an understatement.

"What the hell did you two do?" Mòrag said, surveying the damage.

"Well, we did clean up the glitter," Sheba said. She summoned her bathtub to sit in it, but it immediately fell through a hole where floor should have been.

Mòrag narrowed her eyes at her.

"Yeah and look on the bright side! At least all the glitter is gone!" Kora added, motioning to the large gaping hole.

"And so is half of the castle."

Sheba waved her hand in the air, like she was trying to swat a fly. "Details, details," she said.

"Destroying the castle is not just 'details.'"

"Won't insurance cover all of this, anyways?" Kora asked.

"No, I'm afraid insurance does not cover two blades breaking the castle while trying to clean up glitter."

"Technically, it was three blades," Sheba said.

Mòrag was squinting her eyes so hard that she nearly resembled Brighid. "Details," she said, mimicking Sheba's hand waving from earlier. "You two will be covering the cost."

"But you know we don't have any money," Sheba said.

"That's your problem, then." Mòrag turned around and left before they could ask her for money or hound her for how to make money.

"Do you have any marketable skills?" Sheba asked.

"No, I don't think so."

Well, shit.

Notes:

Part 2 will probably be posted tomorrow or some other day, depending on how I'm feeling.

Chapter 13: Bath Bombs: Part 2 (Sheba/Kora)

Summary:

Sheba and Kora try to find a way to make money after they destroyed part of a castle.

Notes:

Emetophobia tw.

Out of all of the times the Ardainian military had to actually decide to be competent, it was now. Somehow, they managed to take care of all the monsters around the city, so the two blades wouldn't be able to make cash that way. Not that Sheba or Kora would stand a chance against them without their driver, anyways. Surprisingly, Mòrag wasn't in the mood to help them out either.

Apparently, talking about girl stuff, lock picking, and hosting tea parties weren't very marketable, either. Well, lock picking was, but a permit was needed to actually make any money off of it and that took several weeks to get.

They ended up going to the marketplace to get some ideas. It was fairly busy, with some stalls having lines that ran down the street.

Sheba went to take a look, and they were selling stuff like wood carvings or clothing, nothing that she or Kora could possibly hope to make.

While snooping around the future competition, they heard some lady say, "Ugh, did you hear that all the stores are out of bath bombs?"

Sheba might have felt guilty, if she was able to do so. Instead she looked at Kora, who looked back.

"Are you thinking what we are thinking?" Sheba asked.

"That we shouldn't have bought all those bath bombs?"

"What? No, that we should make bath bombs ourselves. With your beauty and our beauty, and maybe some brains, how hard can it be anyway?"

---

Sheba soon learned it was very hard to do so. She figured that, due to the smell of the bath bombs that she and Kora had bought, they were made out of natural stuff like flowers and fruit. So she and Kora gathered as many flowers as they could, but, being in Mor Ardain, that wasn't much.

So they may have used dirt as a substitute, since that was, also, um, natural. Some bugs might have gotten them too.

They rolled the dirt and flowers into balls, or more like some ball adjacent object. Sheba had to use her water abilities to make them stick together, and to clean off all the dirt on her and Kora.

Once they were done making their product, they set up a stall in the marketplace. One of the kids that Sheba had at her tea party let them borrow her lemonade stand.

And so they sat there, waiting for customers to come to them. Barely any did, though some passersby muttered something about weird witch blades, which was weird because Agate was not with them. In fact, she was away on a mercenary mission.

Others complained about the smell and Sheba had to agree with them. She hoped they would sell fast so that she could finally breathe through her nose again.

"We need to change our marketing strategy, dearest Kora," Sheba said after the umpteenth person walked by their stall without buying anything. The nerve of some people!

"Maybe we need a cute little mascot. Like- oh hey, isn't that Finch? Hey Finch come over here!" Kora waved at a familiar feathered friend.

Finch hopped over to them. She had some cash in her hand.

"Would you like to be our mascot, Finch?" Kora asked.

Finch blinked. "A what?"

"A mascot," Sheba said.

"What about mascots?"

Sheba took a deep breath through her nose to calm herself down, which turned out to be a terrible idea because she got a fresh whiff of those so called bath bombs.

"Whoa, that smells good! Is it for sale?" Finch asked.

"Yes, it is," Kora said, pushing one of the bath to the front of the stand.

"How much is it?"

"It's.." Sheba paused to think of a number, but she decided that was too much work. "It's costs the exact amount of gold that you are holding."

"What does?"

Sheba took another deep breath, but this time it was through her mouth.

At the same time, Kora said, "Do you want to buy this?" She pointed at the bath bomb. "It's going for the amount of gold that you have."

"Yeah!"

Kora exchanged the bath bomb for the cash. Sheba washed the dirt off of Kora's hand, and Kora gave her the money. She counted it, and there was a lot more than she was expecting.

"Finch, where did you get all that money from?" Sheba asked.

"What money? Oh, hey a bug ball!" Finch swallowed the bath bomb in one gulp. Sheba placed her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from puking.

Should she be worried about where Finch got the money? Sheba glanced at the cash. No, this was fine. Finch probably gained that money in a fair, safe way. Hopefully.

Kora pulled out another bath bomb and set it on the stand. "That's one to go, and about a thousand more to sell before we can pay for the damage we caused. They do say the hardest one to sell is the first, so hopefully we can sell enough in no time," she said.

"That smells good! Is it for sale?" Finch asked again, waving around a wad of cash that she pulled from… somewhere. It wasn't something that Sheba wanted to put much thought into.

Sheba and Kora looked at each other and shrugged.

Kora sold another bath bomb to Finch.

---

Maybe they should have felt bad about taking advantage of poor Finch like that, but she was the one who wanted to buy and eat all of those bath bombs. All one thousand of them. Her stomach must have been a black hole, or maybe she forgot what feeling full felt like.

Either way, they did get all the money they needed, so they headed to the castle to give it to Mòrag.

She was surprised that they managed to get the money so quickly, but didn't ask any questions about how, which was for the best. She still banned them from the castle, even after they went through all of the trouble of getting that money in one day. It was temporary, probably.

Once they were outside the castle and free of Mòrag's line of sight, Sheba pushed Kora against a wall, all smooth and suave like. "You want to continue what we started?" she said, keeping her voice smooth, like jazz. Smooth jazz.

Despite how charming she was, Kora just laughed at her. "Wow, someone's excited!"

Sheba opened her mouth to say something that was definitely more smooth and suave than before, but Kora interrupted her. She was looking somewhere behind Sheba. "Finch, don't do that here!"

Sheba turned around. Finch's face was as green as her feathers.

"Do what?" Finch asked, before throwing up.

"...Let's take this somewhere else," Sheba said, dragging Kora away before the smell of the puke hit her, or before she puked herself because Finch seemed to have forgotten that she had just thrown up and was now trying to eat some of the bugs. Some of them were still alive, somehow.

Also, she didn't want to be around when Mòrag ended up figuring out that it was somehow her and Kora's fault, even if Finch ate all of those bath bombs by her own volition.

So they looked for somewhere to continue what they started, but couldn't find any place for it. The inn was too crowded and so were the hot springs, and outside of the city was too full of dirt and not much else to be used for any romance. Maybe they could try later, possibly in the castle, once Mòrag stopped being such a dick about doing something as small as destroying several of the castle's walls and floors.

Chapter 14: Chocolates

Summary:

Brighid and Mòrag exchange Valentine's Day chocolates

Notes:

Happy Valentine's Day! Sorry for the short chapter, didn't have much time to write. No smut or anything, but things of the sexual nature are hinted at.

Brighid returned to her and Mòrag's room with a gift in hand. Mòrag was at her desk, but the large stack of unfinished paperwork indicated that she had just got back too.

"For you, Lady Mòrag," Brighid said, approaching the desk. She held out a heart shape box, tightly wrapped in velvet red paper.

"What a coincidence, I got something for you, too." Mòrag took out a little pink gift back from underneath her chair.

They exchanged gifts, and each took out a small chocolate. Mòrag ate hers and hummed in delight.

"Wow, you really outdone yourself this year," Mòrag said.

"Thank you, Lady Mòrag. I put my all into making those for you."

Mòrag placed another piece in her mouth, while Brighid eyed the piece of candy in her hand suspiciously. Last time the chocolates had tasted like chalk. Well, that wasn't fair. Even chalk didn't taste so... chalky.

Mòrag was staring at her in anticipation, slowly eating one of the chocolates that Brighid had given her.

Brighid swallowed, the spit probably tasting better than what was to come next. She braced herself for the worst and popped the candy in her mouth.

It wasn't all that bad, the chocolate actually tasted sweet this time. A little too sugary, but the choco was still recognizable.

She took a risk and bit into it. There was a nutty filling to it, salt to balance out the overly sweet chocolate.

"Well, what do you think?" Mòrag asked.

Brighid swallowed. "It's actually good. I mean, not that your previous chocolates weren't."

"You don't have to lie to protect my feelings, Brighid. I know they weren't the most… edible. Gorg helped me make them this time."

"Ah, I'll have to thank him then. But you know, there's something else I'd like to eat."

"Name it, I'll take you to any restaurant of your choosing."

"It's not food," Brighid said, scrunching one of her eyelids to simulate a wink.

Mòrag furrowed her eyebrows. "Then what is it?"

"Lady Mòrag…"

Mòrag's eyebrows slowly unpinched themselves as realization hit her. "Th-that could be arranged," she said.

Brighid ate another chocolate. It was sweet, but not as sweet as what was coming next.

Chapter 15: Morning Rituals

Summary:

Modern AU. Brighid discovers Mòrag's morning ritual.

Notes:

It was inevitable that one of these drabbles was going to be a shitpost involving Sonic the hedgehog. Sorry in advanced if anyone actually reads this one.

Like all other days, Mòrag had managed to accidentally awaken Brighid when she got up early in the morning. Usually, Brighid would just go back to sleep, but she found herself unable to do so this day.

So Brighid went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, but she saw Mòrag's silhouette on the couch in the living room.

She entered the living room and saw the last thing she expected. Well, it wasn't exactly last thing she expected, but it was somewhere near there.

Mòrag, who could make anyone but Brighid tremble with just a stare, was playing Sonic Adventure 2 Battle, at six in the morning. Specifically, she was in the chao garden, petting a chao.

Mòrag paused the game and turned around. Brighid blinked at her. Mòrag blinked back. They communicated only through blinks for a while, though if their blinks were translated into Morse code, it would just be a bunch of nonsense.

Eventually, Brighid broke the silence. "Is this what you do every morning?"

"I, erm, yes," Mòrag said, looking away from Brighid. "Taking care of my chao helps me destress in the morning."

"Don't you mean our chao."

"I- yes, our chao."

Brighid sat next to Mòrag. "Great, then give me the controller."

Mòrag looked at Brighid, then at the controller, then at her chao that was behind the pause menu, and finally went back to Brighid. She held out the controller for Brighid with a slow, reluctant movement. "Just don't feed anything to Malos, Mythra, or Alvis, I'm trying to make them chaos chao. Also, only feed Nia felines. And only feed Poppi chaos drives. And don't mate-"

Brighid pushed the controller away from her. "On second thought, maybe not."

So Brighid watched Mòrag take care of their chao with mild curiosity and some concern. She couldn't really judge her for it, considering she had a hidden shrine to the sexiest of all hedgehogs, Shadow, hidden in their bathroom.

Chapter 16: Fire Alarms

Summary:

A fire alarm prevents Brighid and Mòrag from staying inside an inn.

As beautiful as some of the ancient buildings of Tantal were, that meant some of them had ancient, outdated technology. Old technology like fire alarms, ones that weren't adjusted to certain fire blades. The fire alarm had went off the second Brighid had entered the building.

Now the owner of Anastatia's was trying to awkwardly explain to the Special Inquisitor and the Jewel of Mor Ardain that Brighid couldn't stay in the hotel.

"Can't you just disable the fire alarms?" Mòrag asked.

"I'm sorry, I can't. That's against safety protocols," the owner said, his eyes focused on the ground.

"Really, it'll just be for one day."

"I can't, I'll get into trouble with things aren't up to protocol."

Mòrag opened her mouth to argue, but stopped when Brighid placed a hand on her upper arm.

"I'll be fine, Lady Mòrag. I'll just camp outside. You can stay in the inn with everyone else."

"No. Forgive me for my selfishness, but I don't want to be separated from you, again. I'll camp with you."

The owner faked a cough and slowly shuffled back inside his hotel, like he was trying to avoid aggroing any wildlife.

"Lady Mòrag…"

"It's freezing outside, you'll get sick," Zeke said, jumping into the conversation, with no sense of the importance of privacy. He had just gotten back from buying embercakes, holding a box of them in hand. Brighid wondered how long he had been listening in for.

"The cold doesn't actually cause sickness. That's a misconception. Even if it did, I'll have Brighid with me," Mòrag said.

Brighid placed a hand over her core crystal and nodded. "Yes, I'll protect Lady Mòrag from the cold."

"Alright, but Tantal isn't exactly the best place for camping. There's snow everywhere, and very few places for cover."

"We'll be fine, we won't let something like the snow or cold get the best of us," Mòrag said.

Zeke handed Mòrag an embercake for protection. If that and Brighid's flames weren't enough to battle the harsh weather of Tantal, then nothing else would be.

---

"Can't get sick from the cold, my ass!" Zeke said when Mòrag and Brighid returned to meet up with everyone else. Surprisingly, Zeke was the only one who was there to greet them.

Mòrag was paler than usual with a red and puffy nose. Despite having Brighid's arm wrapped around her, she was shivering.

"I'm fine," Mòrag said between coughs. Her voice was low and rough from a sore throat.

"She isn't," Brighid said. Despite being unable to get sick herself, her unoccupied hand was rubbing at her temples.

"Wait, I'll be right back," Zeke said. True to his word, he returned a few minutes later. "I managed to convince the owner of Anastatia's to temporarily disable the fire alarm system for you two."

"That wasn't necessary, we can just-" Mòrag stopped talking to hack up a lung. She glanced at the ground to make sure that her lung hadn't actually fallen out. It hadn't.

"Thank you, Zeke. Do you mind postponing the meeting with your father until Lady Mòrag is well?"

"Brighid, that really isn't-"

"Lady Mòrag," Brighid interrupted, "Forgive me for my selfishness, but I want to see you well."

"Meeting with him later isn't really an issue. I'm pretty sure Rex wanted to help out a couple of town folks beforehand, anyways," Zeke said.

Mòrag sighed and leaned against Brighid, trying to get more of her body warmth. "Very well, then."

"Don't think about sneaking off and helping Rex, either," Brighid said.

"I wasn't." Even through her eyelids, Mòrag could feel the full force of Brighid's glare. "Okay, maybe I was, a little. But I won't."

"Good, now let's get you to bed," Brighid said, ushering Mòrag inside.

The fire alarm remained silent when they entered and during their whole stay.

Chapter 17: Cards

Summary:

Mòrag and Brighid play a card game.

"Where's Mòrag and Brighid?" Rex asked, looking around the table. Everyone else was there besides them, and Pyra. The latter was in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

"I saw them run into their room with a pack of cards, so probably still there" Nia said.

"I'll go get them then," Rex said, getting up.

"I would knock if I were you. Who knows what those two are up to. Could be playing strip poker," Zeke said.

"Why would they… er, nevermind," Rex said.

Rex went to their room. He took Zeke's advice and knocked, though he would have done so anyways.

He waited for a reply, but all he got was silence.

"I'm coming in!" he announced, opening the door carefully. He exhaled when he saw both of them sitting on the floor, fully clothed.

They were staring intently at a pile of cards. Neither had bothered to turn their heads to look at Rex.

"Pyra's made dinner," Rex said.

"We'll be down once we finish this round," Mòrag said, her eyes remaining glued to the cards.

"What are you two playing?"

"Isn't that obvious? Egyptian Ratscrew," Brighid said, rolling her eyes under her eyelids.

Rex took a closer look at the pile and saw that there were two eights on top. "Why isn't anyone slapping the pile, then?"

"I'm waiting for Lady Mòrag to do so."

"You just want to slap my hand."

"I promise I won't," Brighid said. She had a hand behind her back.

"You're crossing your fingers, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

"I'll, uh, leave you two to it," Rex said, awkwardly shuffling out of the door.

He told everyone else to eat without Mòrag and Brighid. It wasn't worth waiting for them.

The two finally did exit the room, when the food had gotten cold. Brighid was missing her belt, and Mòrag ate only using her left hand.

Chapter 18: Teacups

Summary:

Mòrag picks a fight that she can't win, namely, against the dreaded teacup ride.

Notes:

Emetophobia tw.

Brighid held Mòrag's head as she puked into a trash can. It didn't really help all that much, considering most of Mòrag's hair was tucked away in her hat. It was the thought that counts, though.

Once Mòrag's stomach was completely empty she said, "The teacup ride is a formidable foe." She spat into the trash to get some of the taste out of her mouth. "But I will not let it get the best of me."

"Of course, Lady Mòrag, but perhaps a breath mint would help." Brighid said, holding out a mint.

"Where were you keeping that?"

"That's a blade's secret."

Mòrag took the mint, albeit with reluctance. It was warm. Hopefully, it was like that due to being in Brighid's hand, and nothing else. She popped it into her mouth, and braced herself for another battle with the dreaded teacup ride.

The ride won the next battle, and the one after that. In fact, it won the rest of the battles that day.

Mòrag had sustained some serious wounds from her battle, the teacups leaving her unable to walk straight. She leaned against Brighid for support, so she wouldn't be stumbling around like a drunkard while they headed to meet the rest of the group.

"Did you guys go drinking without us?" Zeke said, when he saw Mòrag's sorry state.

"No, it's just," Mòrag paused to find the right words explain the situation, "Some battles cannot be won."

"You won in my heart, Lady Mòrag," Brighid said, placing a hand on her chest.

"Brighid…" Mòrag went to kiss Brighid's lips. She choose to ignore Zeke's and Pandoria's fake gagging. She already had enough gagging for today.

Instead, she kissed Brighid's hand. "Try again, when you don't smell of vomit," Brighid said, pushing Mòrag away.

Mòrag pouted, but only for a split second. No one but Brighid was actually all too sure that it had happened. "Very well," she said.

Eventually the rest of the group joined them. Rex informed them that all of them were now banned from the amusement park because Newt broke the strength testing machine. Well, at least someone managed to win today.

Chapter 19: To Be a Person (Pyra/Brighid)

Summary:

Pyra wonders if she is a person, and Brighid tries to help. Kind of one-sided Pyra/Brighid.

Notes:

Sorry if this is, uh, more incoherent than my usual stuff.

Pyra used to just think of herself as a part of Mythra, which worked out fine when they shared a body. Her feelings and actions were Mythra's. Sure, when she talked to Mythra in her head, they didn't always agree, but they were just different parts of the same person. Mythra already knew what Pyra was going to say, she just needed to hear it from a different voice. Pyra always knew what Mythra was going to say too, but she was polite enough to let her say it on her own.

And Pneuma… Pneuma is, well, was just Mythra put all together, since Pyra is just another aspect of Mythra. Or maybe was, now. And maybe Pneuma was actually the original Mythra, and maybe Mythra split parts of herself when she created Pyra, though she didn't exactly split everything. They still had the same emotions and such. But now Pyra isn't too sure, this whole separate body thing is a little confusing.

It's hard to tell when Mythra ends and Pyra begins, now. It was easier before, Mythra was when Mythra fronted, and Pyra was when Pyra fronted. Everything they shared was just that.

They were a full person, together. Now, is she supposed to be a full person on her own?

Ugh, all this thinking is making Pyra's head hurt. Maybe Mythra's head is hurting too. Maybe all of these are just Mythra's thoughts. Or Pneuma's, or whoever's.

Pyra rubs her temples to try to lessen her growing headache. She leans against a tree. In the distance she can see the blurred figures of Lefterian children jumping off a cliff, into a sea of water and fish and everything that should be in a sea besides clouds. The cloud sea is nothing more but a distant memory.

She also hears the sound of pen scribbling against paper next to her. Brighid had sat down next to her while she was stuck in her thoughts.

The scribbling stops, Brighid must have noticed Pyra's look of discomfort. "What's the matter?" she asks.

"Oh, um." What are the right words to say? She used to good at finding them, though maybe that was Mythra all along. "Mythra created me, you know, so I am just a part of Mythra. I'm her wants, feelings, and all that. Well, was." Pyra takes a deep breath. "But now that I'm not a part of Mythra, am I really a person?"

Brighid closes her journal, placing her pen in it to keep her place. "That makes you as much as a person as any other blade," she says.

"Huh?"

"I can't be certain what part of me is from my drivers, and what was from me. Or if anything really was mine to begin with. Sure, I'm still the same person I was 500 years ago, but some parts of me have changed. As Mythra lightly put it, I'm not as much as a dick."

"You aren't a dick at all!"

"Thank you. Anyways, even if all of me was originally from my drivers, it's mine now. Dwell on what was originally whose for too long and all you'll get is a headache."

Pyra gives a small chuckle and removes her hand from her head, the pain starting to fade away. Of course Brighid knew what she was going through. She's always been so observant. "Thank you, Brighid. I'm feeling better already."

"It's not all that different for humans, either."

"Okay, now I'm a little lost."

"When the Emperor was little, he would always want what Lady Mòrag wanted, laughed when she did, and cried when she was sad. Even if he was only feeling that way because of Lady Mòrag, they were still his feelings. Mimicry is a way that humans learn, and Nopon too, as you can tell from Tora. Both the Emperor and Tora are very much people, even if it is hard to tell what part of the Emperor is just from him and what is from Lady Mòrag, and even if Tora would be very different if he didn't meet you and Rex."

"Huh, so I guess Mythra is like an older sister who I mimicked, and, also, who I was a part of for sometime."

"I said it wasn't so different, not an exact parallel. And, if anything, I'd say you are the older sister. Mythra's a bit… more immature, and she looks up to you, too."

"Well, that makes sense considering she made me to be an idealized version of herself."

"Are you the same as the idealized version of yourself?"

That's an easy question. She definitely isn't. She'd want to be more sure of herself, for starters. "No."

"You really are a person, then." Brighid looks at the cliff where the children were playing. They are all gone, as the sun has started to set. She gets up, holding her journal at her side. "I have to get going, or Lady Mòrag is going to worry about where I am."

Pyra feels a weird pit in her stomach. Its uncomfortable ,and she almost prefers her headache over it, but she isn't sure what's causing it. She doesn't remember eating anything that would disagree with her stomach. Pyra gets up as well. "I should probably go help Corinne with dinner. Will you and Mòrag be joining us?" Her voice cracks a little when she says Mòrag, but Brighid shows no indication that she took notice of it.

"We would love to." Brighid's starting to walk away.

"Thank you for everything!" Pyra calls after her.

Brighid smiles at her, and soon disappears from Pyra's line of vision.

Pyra stares at the empty cliff, and at the sea behind it. She almost expects clouds to start emerging from it. They don't.

When did Brighid become so kind, she wonders. No, that isn't right. Brighid has always been kind to her, she's just a little snappy with Mythra. Mythra's feelings from their old rivalry might have prevented Pyra from really noticing that.

But now, when she thinks of Brighid, she feels a certain lightness in her chest. It's different. It's hers.

Wait, no, these feelings could still be from Mythra. They could have been buried down deep and given to Pyra during the split. But, even if these feelings were originally Mythra's, they are hers now, and she figures that's all that matters.

Chapter 20: Brighid Blinked

Summary:

Brighid gives a Mòrag a manuscript for her to read. It's not exactly up to the quality of her usual stuff.

Notes:

While there is technically no straight up smut, it is definitely NSFW.

Based on My Dad Wrote A Porno.

"To peruse at your leisure," Brighid said, placing down a manuscript on Mòrag's desk.

"Thank you, Brighid. I'll read it over once I'm done with all my paperwork," Mòrag said.

Brighid nodded and left Mòrag to do her work.

Once the monotony of paperwork started to get to her, Mòrag picked up the manuscript,.

It was called Brighid Blinked, which was an interesting title, considering that Brighid never really blinked on account of her eyes almost always being closed.

Mòrag shrugged. She was never really one to judge a book by its title, and Brighid's stuff was usually top notch, anyways.

She wondered if this one was an exception once she finished the introduction. It was mostly a long winded way of saying that this book, if it could be called that, was about Brighid getting to the top of the core chip business by having a lot of sex.

Perhaps it just had a bad start. Mòrag flipped through the manuscript and stopped when she saw her name.

Mòrag started to read again, somehow powering through a part where it is implied that someone's age could be told from their ass. She wasn't able to read after the part where, through some convoluted circumstances, she somehow became Brighid's sex slave and insisted that she definitely didn't want to get fucked by a dildo, one that she kept in a drawer in her room. It was right next to her bed, impossible to miss.

Maybe that was just a bad section. Mòrag skimmed through the rest of it, her eyes fluttering over boobs being described as hung too many times, fingers that were somehow able to touch ovaries in a living, breathing woman, and other various disgraces to anatomy.

She closed the manuscript. That was enough for today. Or any day, really.

She went back to her paperwork, trying to erase what she just read from her mind.

Brighid returned sometime later, after Mòrag finished all of her work.

"Well, what did you think?" Brighid asked, looking so damn proud.

A sinking feeling grew in Mòrag's stomach. "Well, erm…" she trailed off.

Brighid frowned. "Be honest, I can take it."

"It's… unique," Mòrag said.

"So it's bad."

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"Well, were you drunk when you wrote this?"

"I was a little tipsy." Mòrag doubted that. Brighid probably had to be barely conscious to write something like this, or so Mòrag hoped.

"Er, you do know you can't just grab a cervix, right?" Mòrag asked.

"Wait, did I seriously write that?" Brighid took the manuscript and flipped through it. "Oh, I didn't write this." Good, so Mòrag wasn't going to have to give an awkward sex talk to someone who she already had sex with, multiple times. "Aegaeon did."

Oh, alright.

Wait no, that was not alright at all. "Why the fuck was Aegaeon writing porn about us?"

Brighid had no answers for her, or at least none that she was willing to share. Perhaps some things were better left unanswered.

Chapter 21: Burnt Bacon

Summary:

Mòrag tries to cook some bacon for Brighid and herself.

"Shouldn't you use tongs for that?" Brighid said as Mòrag went to flip some bacon with her bare hands. She didn't even have her gloves on.

"This should be fine. Your flames are much hotter than any stove," Mòrag said.

"If you say so."

Mòrag placed her fingertips on the pan, and immediately snapped them back. That would have been the end of that, if she didn't put her fingers right back on the heated pan.

Really, grabbing the tongs would have probably been better. Maybe Mòrag was just feeling lazy.

"See? Just fine," Mòrag said, the confidence in her voice betrayed by the slight twitch of her brows. She wasn't even reaching for the bacon, instead letting her fingers just rest on the burning pot.

She was trying to prove something, Brighid supposed, but to what or to who Brighid was unsure of.

"Sure," Brighid said. There was a sizzling sound that wasn't coming from the bacon. "Shouldn't you flip the bacon, now?"

"Oh, um… I think not flipping them is just fine."

Oh good, Brighid was going to have uneven bacon mixed with some burnt skin for breakfast. She should have just eaten whatever the kitchen staff had prepared instead of letting Mòrag rope her into trying her poor attempt at cooking. There was still some time to salvage it, though.

Brighid pulled out some tongs from a drawer, and in a swift motion, she yanked Mòrag's hand off the pan with one hand, and flipped the bacon with the other. Mòrag's fingertips were charred, and some bits of skin had remained on the pan. That probably wasn't sanitary, but Brighid didn't know enough about cooking to say for sure. It wasn't touching the bacon, so it should be fine, maybe.

Mòrag tried to keep a straight face, but Brighid could see that her eyes were more watery than usual.

Brighid brought the burnt fingers to her mouth and kissed them. "Better?"

"I appreciate the gesture, but the heat of your mouth just made the burn worse."

Brighid sighed. "Put your fingers under a cold faucet. I'll go get a healer."

When Brighid returned with the healer, the bacon was barely recognizable, looking more like charcoal than food.

They ended up having leftovers from the palace kitchen for breakfast. Mòrag brought up her plans to attempt to make pancakes next, and Brighid made a mental note to tie a spatula to Mòrag's hand when that happened.

Chapter 22: Living On (Mythra/Brighid)

Summary:

(Endgame spoliers) Mythra tries to deal with everyone dying.

Notes:

This is basically just everyone dies: the drabble, with some Mythra/Brighid and a hint of moraghid.

That being said, there's a lot of character death.

Mòrag was the first to go. It wasn't a surprise to anyone, she was the only normal human of the group. It was kind of weird to see her be so at peace with death, when Mythra could have sworn she had been freaking out about getting her first gray hair only a few days ago. In a sense, Brighid passed with her, but she got passed down the imperial line. The next person to awaken her was Niall's son.

Tora disappeared soon after, following his family's traditions. Mythra wasn't too sure when he actually died, but she knew it was before Rex did. Poppi was vague about the exact date. She said he was inventing to the very end. She was vague about what he was inventing too, and Mythra figured it was best not to press her on it.

Rex died next, being the Aegis's driver gave him a slightly extended life span, but it didn't save him from death. He didn't seem all that upset about it and died peacefully, just like Mòrag. Every anniversary of his death, Mythra and Pyra visit his grave and tell him about what is going on with the world that he saved. Sometimes Gramps would be there, Mythra and Pyra hadn't seen him any other time besides that after Rex died.

They had a few extra centuries with Zeke before he went. Pandoria went with him, unable to return to her core crystal after giving a part of it to Zeke. They were cracking jokes until the very end, dying with a smile on both of their faces.

Nia was the last to go, and her death was fairly recent. She had aged, albeit it was slow compared to any human. She said she would say hello to everyone else for those who were left. She, also, left Dromarch's core crystal with them. Neither Mythra or Pyra could bring themselves to reawaken him, and they weren't sure if Poppi could awaken him, either. She didn't want to, anyways. He reminded them too much of Nia.

The only blade that was reawakened was Brighid. Well, technically Aegaeon too and some of the rare blades, but Mythra was never really as close to them as she was to Brighid.

Brighid had been reawakened multiple times, always from someone in the imperial line. Usually, it was the next Emperor in line, and once it was the Empress. Every once in a while it was someone like a Special Inquisitor, or the younger sibling of an Emperor.

Mythra had ran into her, multiple times. Rather, she had wandered around whatever was Mor Ardain at the time to run into her. It was kind of a funny, meeting someone who's so familiar yet somehow feels like a stranger. Brighid always knew who she was, but didn't really know her. Mythra supposed it was the same for her, she knew of Brighid, but didn't know the current version of her all that well. She was still the same blade, but there were changes here and there that threw Mythra off. Sometimes she was almost as calm as she was with Mòrag, but never to the same extent, and other times she would try to restart their rivalry.

They had a lot of similar conversations, since Brighid was unable to remember the old ones. Sometimes she would mention reading about them, though. They were never the same, word to word, either.

Pyra and Poppi had came with her a few times, but that hadn't really bothered to seek out Brighid like Mythra.

"It's not the same," they had said.

"Of course it isn't, but it's not all that different either," Mythra had said back.

Their relationship to each other had been different, too. Sometimes Brighid was nothing more than a familiar stranger to Mythra, other times that had been romantically involved. One thing was the same throughout, Brighid held Mythra at a certain distance, even when they were in a relationship. It wasn't always a large distance or anything, but it was there. She hadn't seemed to be like that with Mòrag, when they were together.

Maybe it was because of the respect that Brighid held for the Aegis, even if she didn't seem to be all that respectful when she was calling Mythra a simpleton. Maybe it was because Mythra knew so many versions of her, and that just felt weird to Brighid. Maybe it was because Brighid always put her driver and Mor Ardain first. Maybe Brighid was just like that, or maybe it was something else.

Still, Mythra would take what she could get.

It was all she had, anyways. Blades weren't truly immortal like the Aegises were, like Poppi was. Someday Brighid would be a titan, and someday she would die. Maybe she'd go peacefully, just like Mòrag and so many others had, or maybe she'd be thrashing and yelling at her fate. Either way, Mythra knew she wouldn't be with her then.

Chapter 23: Constellations

Summary:

Mòrag and Brighid look at the stars.

"The stars are a lot brighter out here," Brighid says, looking up at the sky with closed eyes.

"There isn't as much light pollution in Fonsett compared to Alba Cavanich," Mòrag says.

It's a bit chilly out and Mòrag left her jacket inside Corrine's house, but it's fine, Brighid is warm enough for the both of them. The ground is a bit damp beneath them, but it isn't wet enough to damper Brighid's flames.

Mòrag rests her head on her shoulder, and Brighid notes that she hadn't bothered to look around before doing so. It's not like there's anyone else out there with them, anyways. The townspeople have retired to their homes for the night, most of the lights are off. There's always someone awake and wandering around in Alba Cavanich, no matter the time. There are many great things about Alba Cavanich, but privacy and views like this aren't one of them.

"Do you know any constellations, Lady Mòrag?"

"I'm afraid I don't know any, but," Mòrag points to the sky, and uses her finger to trace something among the stars. "I bet that's a constellation," she says.

"You just drew the shape of my core crystal."

"It should be one, if it isn't already."

"Hmm." This time, Brighid draws a picture in the sky.

Mòrag knits her eyebrows. "A butterfly with three pairs of wings?"

Brighid nudges her with her elbow. "It's your abs, silly. Abs as great as yours deserve their own constellation."

Mòrag audibly exhales, something that is almost a laugh. She points to the sky again and takes her time sketching out the next one, making sure to get every detail right. "You know, one of our traveling companions might know some constellations. We could ask them when they aren't asleep." Now there are two whipswords in the sky.

Brighid outlines the two people holding them. "We could, but I think I like these better."

Chapter 24: Cold Hands

Summary:

Brighid tries to make her hands cold.

Normally, Brighid would just zone out Pandoria when she would rant about how great Zeke was. She was doing that now too, as they wandered around the Tantal marketplace or, rather, the black marketplace. The mention of her driver made her attention snap back to Pandoria.

"Does Mòrag ever do that?" Pandoria asked.

"Do what?" Brighid said.

"Weren't you listening? Jump when you place cold fingers against her neck."

Brighid looked at her hands. She wasn't sure if they were capable of becoming cold. "I don't know."

"Oh right," Pandoria said, looking at Brighid's hands as well. "Well, my prince is so adorable when he-"

Brighid returned to zoning Pandoria out.

As fun as making Mòrag jump sounded- no, actually that sounded fairly fun. Maybe she'll just have to test if she could make her fingers cold.

The last time Brighid remembered actually feeling cold was when she was doused with the water from the water tower, and that wasn't something she wants to replicate any time soon.

So instead of that, Brighid stuck her fingers in the mini fridge in her and Mòrag's hotel room, once she and Pandoria returned from their walk. It had two water unopened water bottles in it, the sort that Mòrag would have to pay for if they were opened.

It was a genius plan, really. This way, only her fingers would get cold, and she wouldn't have to douse herself in water.

She waited for a while to let the fridge do its job. She didn't really notice much of a change, but maybe the cold was numbing her.

When she heard the click of the lock, she planned her attack, not noticing that some of the plastic of the water bottles had melted.

When Mòrag entered the room, Brighid ran towards her, so not to lose any of the cold from the fridge. She dug her fingers under Mòrag's collar and placed them on her neck. Instead of jumping, Mòrag just stared at her with a sort of confused look on her face.

"What are you doing, Brighid?"

"My fingers are cold," Brighid said.

"Really? They feel hot to me." Mòrag went to warm up Brighid's hands with her own, but Brighid jumped back right when Mòrag's gloves brushed against her flames. Even with her gloves on, her hands were fucking icicles.

Brighid sighed and grabbed Mòrag's hands. She rubbed Mòrag's fingers to help bring heat back to them.

"I thought you said you were cold," Mòrag said with a smile in her voice and on her face.

"Clearly not as cold as you are." Later, she'll lecture Mòrag on the importance of staying warm, and Mòrag would nod and half listen, and end up putting herself in the same situation later. For now, Brighid would just focus on warming her driver up.

Even if she couldn't make Mòrag jump by placing cold fingers on her neck, she could do something like this.

Chapter 25: No Pets Allowed

Summary:

Mòrag kidnaps Dromarch, Modern AU.

Brighid could hear Mòrag talking from inside their apartment. Brighid was pretty sure that Mòrag was alone, Mòrag usually would have notified her if she was bringing a guest over. Maybe she was on the phone.

Brighid opened the door.

Mòrag wasn't on the phone, in fact, her phone was left lying on a table in front of her. Instead, Mòrag was mostly alone, sitting on a couch and petting a certain cat that was sprawled out in her lap.

"You kidnapped Dromarch," Brighid said.

The victim in question purred at Mòrag's delicate touch. It was worse than Brighid originally thought, he was already showing symptoms of Stockholm syndrome.

"No, he followed me home," Mòrag said, not bothering to look up from Dromarch.

"Really? Then you won't mind me texting Nia to come pick him up. I bet she's worried sick about him."

Mòrag made a movement to get up, but quickly abandoned the notion when Dromarch stirred. "Perhaps you could wait an hour or two before contacting her."

"Pets aren't allowed in our apartment complex, you know."

"I'll hide him if the landlord comes."

Brighid sighed and sat down on the couch next to Mòrag. Mòrag put up an arm between her and Dromarch as a protective barrier.

Did she trust her so little? Well, considering that Brighid just texted Nia, that might have been warranted. Still, it was a bit weird to see Mòrag get so worked up over something like this. "Do you want a cat, Mòrag?"

"I, hmm." Mòrag stared at Dromarch's large, puppy-dog eyes, which was a weird thing for him to have considering he was a cat. Dromarch mewed at her, his voice raising at the end of it as if he was asking a question. If he was, then Mòrag had no answers for him because she didn't speak cat. She did have one for Brighid. "I suppose not. A cat may scratch up our furniture."

Brighid wrinkled her nose. "It could drag its litter around the place too."

Mòrag continued to pet Dromarch, but in a slower, somewhat somber motion. The corners of her lips were turned downward. Dromarch purred happily just the same. "You can text Nia, now."

"Already did. She's on her way."

"I see."

Despite her acceptance, Mòrag looked so sad. "I bet Nia would let you babysit Dromarch from time to time," Brighid said.

"I suppose," Mòrag said, her slow petting and sad expression not changing. Maybe she was just in the depression stage of grief. It would pass eventually.

And apparently it passed fairly quickly. Mòrag's face became neutral and she stopped petting Dromarch. He nudged her hand, begging her her to continue. Somehow, she ignored him. "Brighid?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"A dog, on the other hand-"

"No."

Chapter 26: Final Pam: Part 1 (Final Pam/Curie)

Summary:

Final Pam plans her revenge against Todd Howard.

Notes:

This one and the next one are going to be shitposts, but I'll try to have something less shitposty for the 28th one.

Also, sorry Final Pam for using you in a fanfic. Please do not destroy my copy of Fallout 4.

Nothing could truly fill the hole that Roachie left. It was like a black hole, spaghetti-fying anything that came into it. Still, there wasn't much Final Pam could do but fill it with more spaghetti. Well, that was a lie. There were many things Final Pam could do, in fact she could do everything. She could bring Roachie back from the hell of the despawned, but it just wouldn't be the same. She needed an army of husbands, no, wives, she already had metal husband and Trash Hulk.

She needed an army of wives so she could punish Todd Howard for releasing a game where Roachie could despawn. Such horrid actions could not go unpunished.

Now, the question was not who should be in her army, but where she should start. Might as well start where she was created and have some sweet justice as Todd Howard's own creations fought against him.

She had a metal husband, so it was just natural to start with a metal wife.

She teleported to vault 81, but really she was there the whole time. The Final Pam was always everywhere.

The vault dwellers looked at her with a mix of admiration and fear. She walked past them, and triggered the quest line that she needed, except the boy that was supposed to get sick never did. Being in Final Pam's presence for even a split second made him immune to the diseased mole rats.

No one stopped her when she entered the tunnels. They knew what she was here for. She had let them know herself, imparting the knowledge within them.

The lab mole rats of vault 81 had not gotten the memo, rather, she had not bothered to tell them about it. The mole rats bit at her, but instead of Final Pam catching the disease, they did. 10 hp was permanently taken away from their health. They, also, died too, but their corpses still had 10 less hp than they should, and corpses should have no hp.

Curie was right where she was expected to be, in her little lab working on a disease that Final Pam had already cured.

"Bonjour, are you here for the cure?" Curie asked, unaware that her life work was not needed anymore. No, she was needed for something else now. Her life would have new meaning soon.

"You are metal wife," Final Pam spoke, and thus it was so.

Curie, despite not being in a synth body, cried tears of joy and understanding.

Final Pam smiled a perfect smile and with a snap of her fingers, Curie was not bound to Fallout 4 anymore.

One wife down, many to go. Todd Howard, watch out.

Chapter 27: Final Pam: Part 2 (Final Pam/Brighid/Mòrag)

Summary:

Final Pam comes to Xenoblade Chronicles 2.

Notes:

Shitpost: part 2.

Mòrag and Brighid had already met a bunch of people from other dimensions, but this woman was something different. She was standing in the Land of Challenge, like Shulk and the others had done, but it was more like she was there forever and yet never at the same time. She wore a coat with a furred collar, and sunglasses.

While Mòrag already met the Architect, something in the back of her head told her that this woman was the true god.

She wasn't sure if she should fear or love the woman, so Mòrag did both.

The woman, something informed Mòrag that her name was Final Pam, but she wasn't sure what, placed a perfect hand on Brighid's shoulder. The hand wouldn't be perfect if it belonged to someone else, but it was Pam's so it was so. Everything about Pam was just perfect, because the definition of it was based on her.

"You will be fire wife," Final Pam spoke, and thus it became so. Brighid nodded, somehow understanding the true purpose of her life. Her flames burned brighter and stronger due to Final Pam's words.

Mòrag felt a jealous tinge in her stomach. She wished Final Pam would impart such meaning into her life.

Her wish did not go unnoticed. Nothing escaped Final Pam, and nothing will. "And you," Final Pam spoke, bringing her hand on Mòrag's shoulder, "You shall be Scottish wife."

Mòrag nodded and choked back some tears. Suddenly, everything made sense. Well, except one small thing.

The Final Pam snapped her god-like fingers, no, god-like implied that she was somehow less than a god, if anything she was greater than one. The Final Pam snapped her all powerful fingers, and Mòrag and Brighid disappeared from Xenoblade Chronicles 2 and into the fabric of the universe.

Before Mòrag was forcibly ripped from the code of Xenoblade Chronicles 2, her last thought was, what the hell is a Scottish?

Chapter 28: Wedding

Summary:

Mòrag and Brighid have their first wedding.

Mòrag and Brighid's wedding was a small affair. Rather, their first one was. The second one was large, with half of Mor Ardain attending.

The first one didn't even take place in Mor Ardain. Instead they had it in Leftheria, specifically in Fonsett Village. Even if it wasn't their homeland, it definitely had better scenery. Mòrag loved Mor Ardain, but she had to admit it could be a sight on sore eyes sometimes.

The planning for this wedding had been surprisingly easy too. The nightmare that planning for the second wedding brought made up for that. They didn't really have to plan for a lot of people anyways, Mòrag and Brighid kept their social circles small. It was mostly just the Aegis's party, Mòrag's other blades, and Niall, who they managed to sneak out of Alba Cavanich for a weekend.

Setting it up was easy too. Corrine helped them set up the seating, and the village had chairs and such stored away for such occasions too. They didn't need anything fancy, anyways. All of the fancy stuff was saved for the second wedding, and then they went all out with it.

They still needed things like a ring bearer and a flower girl. Tora was chosen to be the ring bearer after much deliberation. He was the youngest of the group besides Poppi, anyways. Brighid made sure to give him fake rings.

Choosing the flower girl had been slightly more interesting.

"The Zekenator is the perfect flower girl. Look how good I am at tossing petals!" Zeke had said, throwing a handful of petals to prove his point. Pandoria nodded and clapped at the display.

Mòrag narrowed her eyes at him. "No," she said.

"Aw, come on. My prince has been practicing so much for this," Pandoria said.

"Shh Pandy! Don't let them know that! I want them to think I'm a natural at this."

"But that would erase all the all nighters you pulled to get better!"

Brighid rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "Don't tell me you actually did that."

"Ha, of course Pandy is just jesting. Haha, right Pandy?"

Pandoria thinned her lips and stared at Brighid as an answer.

Brighid regretted letting Mòrag invite him to the wedding. She just wanted Pandoria to come, though Pandoria would probably just bring Zeke as a plus one anyways, even if they didn't allow plus ones.

"Um," Poppi piped up, drawing attention to herself. "Poppi's name is Poppi, so Poppi should be flower girl," Poppi had said, waving her arms in the air.

"Arg! I can't argue with that flawless logic!" Zeke said, dramatically flailing backwards, sort of like a fish on land. "I guess the Zekenator will have to do something else."

So Zeke became ordained, because he couldn't just be a regular guest at their wedding. Mòrag was originally planning just to pay the priest or who ever ended up officiating the wedding to keep quiet about it, but now that Zeke was doing it, that wasn't an issue. In hindsight, a paid off priest would probably be more trustworthy to keep things on the downlow than Zeke. He was partly the reason they had to have the second wedding, though they were planning on doing that anyways. He just made it happen much sooner.

Whatever, at least Mòrag was saving money, even if money was never really an issue. It gave Zeke something to do too, so he wouldn't be pulling any other shenanigans at her and Brighid's wedding.

He was pretty okay at ordaining the wedding, only forgetting what to say a few times. Brighid had reminded him of the words under her breath, she had secretly became ordained at the same time he did in case he messed up. He had manged to get to the end, and prompted them to say their vows.

And so they did so, promising to be there for each other through life or death, or in Brighid's case, through this life and returning to her core crystal.

Of course, they didn't need to say it out loud to know that, but it was a nice reminder. They kissed soon after. What wedding would be complete without one, anyways?

And, during the cake ceremony, they had cut the cake together, using one of Brighid's whipswords.