Decided to finally fill this out. Just a note, but OTP means I love the ship, I have no problem are ships I think are cute but don’t ship, Friend are stuff I see as friendship, Not my Ship is stuff I just dont ship, but i dont care if others ship it obviously.
I mean I actively post two ships from the Not My Ship section just because I REALLY like McC//ree, Rea//per and Han//zo.
Prompt: Tuuri - As for myself, I swung the door open. And there was the wordless, singing world. And I ran for my life.
Ah, winter. A blessing from the gods, they said, when monsters lay dormant, snow silenced footsteps, and new paths formed over the icy lakes. When humanity truly prospered.
None of which, of course, were things that a simple child with neither immunity nor magic could appreciate. Or even see, for that matter.
Tuuri sighed, her breath fogging up the cold, icy window. She wrote a rude word she wasn’t supposed to know in it and giggled to herself, then erased it and stared back at her book. The same one she had read every winter, for four years now. She had enjoyed it, once, but rereading the same thing every day for years on end made it lose its charm.
Today was going to be different.
She closed the book without saving her place—a small act of rebellion in itself—and padded with it back to the small bookshelf by the door. And hanging from a strap right under that bookshelf was—
No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Onni would kill her…but it was winter, and it was dark, and Onni was asleep doing very important mage things.
On second thought, maybe she would.
She winced as the last clasp on her mask clicked into place. It made more noise than she had meant it to. Onni had ears like a…well, you know, but he didn’t stir. She guessed mage things couldn’t wait. And Lalli and Grandma, the latter of whom would kill her even deader, were out somewhere in the forest.
Tuuri couldn’t care less. Let them do their thing, she thought, and I’ll do mine.
Summary:Niall doesn’t know what he’s still doing there. This isn’t really how he likes to spend his Sunday nights. He doesn’t want to be yelled at and made to feel guilty for something that happened months ago. All he wants is to leave, really.