Tales of Vesperia: Typetrigger drabbles
A series of 300-word drabbles for Tales of Vesperia. Spoilers involved.
Written in response to Typetrigger prompts. It turns out that 300 words is longer than I thought. I wrote a lot of them because I felt they were too short to post just a few at a time and then... this post was huge with eleven 300-word drabbles. So I cut it in half. Here are the first six prompts:
watermelon seeds: young Flynn, young Yuri
pour the milk: Estelle, Ioder
the spice rack: Flynn, Judith, Yuri
alone with you: Estelle, Raven
uncertainty: Sodia, (Flynn)
turns to hate: Flynn, (Alexei)
Any suggestions for future ones? Any votes on what series I do next? You can tell me in the comments~
watermelon seeds: young Flynn, young Yuri
In the summer, Hanks grew watermelons, and he always saved a few for the people of the lower quarter to share. The biggest and the best were always sold, of course, but having never tasted them, Flynn couldn't say if they were better.
All he knew was that Hanks passed around slices of watermelon for everyone, and for one happy dimly-lit evening the still heat left over from the sweltering of the day was mitigated by a delicious watery treat, sliding down Flynn's throat cool and wonderful.
Yuri sat next to him on the ledge, tearing through his own watermelon, and Flynn glanced at him, nibbling on his own. He spat the seed out, and it fell somewhere far below the second-story window where they were sitting.
"Don't do that," Flynn said reprovingly. "You should save the seeds, so Hanks can grow more of them next year."
"Are you seriously going to spit out the seeds into your hand and then give them to Hanks?" Yuri returned, and rolled his eyes. "Gross. I wouldn't want them."
Flynn looked down at the slice of watermelon. He hadn't thought of it that way. "That is pretty gross," he agreed, dubiously.
"Anyway, Hanks gave them to us. We can do whatever we want with them." He spat out another seed, and then pointed. "Bet you can't get one into the stream."
Thus challenged, Flynn took a bite and tried to mimic the gesture; but, less practiced, his seed floundered and fell, down onto the head of Gregor the merchant passing below, who lifted a hand to brush through his hair with some confusion. Fortunately, he did not look up, and did not hearing the hushed snickering of two children on the ledge above him.
pour the milk: Estelle, Ioder
She felt like she sat across the table from a stranger; family she barely knew; a friend she rarely met; a charming young man near her own age (which was awkward all in itself). She had changed since they last spent time together -- casually sitting on the bench outside the council chambers, sharing updates about their lives, whispered so as not to disturb the nobles at their important work.
She had changed, and he had become the Emperor.
Estelle sat with her hands anxiously in her lap, trying not to stare at Ioder across the long chamber and the long table and the long months of silence. It was their first breakfast together since the conflict: the first truly calm, relaxed day when they could go about their new routine.
She didn't have the words to tell him she wanted to move to Halure or write stories for children. She didn't know him well enough to know how he would feel. No doubt he would smile and give her his blessing, but would he be sad? Would he feel she was neglecting her responsibilities? Would he be jealous of her freedom to choose? Someone had to be the Emperor.
While she wasn't looking Ioder had moved; she settled with his plate into a chair next to her, and she jumped, surprised. He said with a smile, "I was going to ask you if you wanted the milk, but then I realized I couldn't get it to you from all the way over there."
...Estelle smiled back at him, warming quickly. She would just have to -- get to know him, that was all.
She held her teacup out to him, and he poured her milk, blushing the tea white, just the way she had always liked it.
the spice rack: Flynn, Judith, Yuri
Judith smiled beatifically, managing to utterly ignore the malevolent look that Yuri was directing her way. Bring it, she thought without looking at him. There was nothing he could threaten her with.
He leaned closer and hissed at her, "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into."
She tilted her head to the side, still not turning to look at him properly. "Don't I?" she mused, thoughtful.
"We're all going to pay for this!"
"But mostly you, right?"
The more she smiled the darker he looked. He was making it too fun for her. Maybe she really would get a decent fight out of this, or even something more interesting.
"You're not acting in the best interests of the guild here, Judy," he muttered.
"Then I guess I'll have to be punished," she said innocently, and her lips curled up more at the edges. She'd like it, and she knew he knew that she would. She looked forward to seeing the worst he could do.
"I won't forget this," Yuri said as he settled back in his seat, arms folded and tone sullen.
Judith felt her lips turn up as Flynn returned to the table, saying happily, "This spice rack is perfect. Just the housewarming gift I was hoping for. Thank you, Judith."
"Anytime," she told him.
He was adorable when he was that happy, all lit up like a child with candy. That was what made Flynn so dangerous. But almost as adorable was Yuri when he was sulking.
So, really, it was a win-win situation.
alone with you: Estelle, Raven
Her muffled crying woke something inside of him that he'd thought was long dead. That was the problem with these kids: they were so full of hope and feelings that it kind of got under your skin. Even a tired old failure like him wasn't immune to it.
"You don't want to ask me why?" he found himself asking her. His voice was hollow even to his own ears: numb somewhere deep inside, in the cavity in his chest that used to house a heart.
Estelle sniffled. "Of course I want to," she said, voice thick with tears and misery. "But you wouldn't answer me when I asked why you wanted to go outside, and you wouldn't answer me when I asked where you were taking me, and you wouldn't answer me when I asked you to help me! You probably wouldn't even answer me."
"I didn't think you were the type who just gave up."
That at least made her a little angry; she rapped out, "What was I supposed to say?! 'Raven, why would you do this to us after everything we...' ...Raven..."
He wasn't looking at her, but he could hear her look up at him.
"...I don't even know what to call you anymore."
His chest ached. He lifted a hand up to it, just for a beat, and told himself, This blastia is getting pretty old, too, even though he knew that it had nothing to do with the blastia.
"It doesn't matter," he told her.
uncertainty: Sodia, (Flynn)
Sodia paced in the corridor outside his room, practicing what she would say to him. She felt like she was sweating far more than was called for by the mild warmth of the day, but she ignored it stubbornly. This was important -- too important to be held back by petty anxiety.
He would probably hate her if she told him everything. He would probably hate himself if she told him why he had done it. She couldn't bear to let him know.
Maybe he would hate her anyway for leaving. For saying, "I'm resigning, but I can't tell you why."
But it was better to have him think of her as unreliable than as treacherous -- as a madwoman -- as the monster who would kill a man because she had deluded herself that it was what would make his best friend truly happy.
Sodia paused, letting out a slow, unsteady breath.
What would he think? What would he say? How would he feel?
What would become of her when she went back to the home of her merchant's family in the Public Quarter in disgrace? Where would she go? Would anyone care?
Certainly not the man she had betrayed.
Or -- maybe he would, and that was why he deserved better.
"I just don't know what to do," she snapped, turning around in tearful frustration. She would do it tomorrow, think more about this -- tossing and turning as she laid awake during the night, the way she had almost every night since Zaude...
There was a guard there, staring at her with some confusion, and she went stiff.
"What are you looking at?" Sodia demanded coolly. The guard flinched and resumed his patrol without a word, and she went on her way, as if nothing was wrong.
turns to hate: Flynn, (Alexei)
For the first time in over a year, Flynn found himself in Alexei's private chamber. It had been when he made lieutenant, and Alexei had wanted to speak to him personally, commend him for coming so far and doing so well even though the knights were very much an old boy's club for the sons of nobility. Something that no one had ever done before Alexei himself; a trail that he had forged and few had followed him down.
"The Empire needs more men like you," he had said. He had seemed tired then, but there was still a light in his lined eyes, a sincerity to his sad smile. Or so Flynn had believed.
And now he was here looking for evidence of that man's treachery. Some sign of what had changed, when, why. How his noble goals had become twisted this way.
Flynn slowly crossed to Alexei's desk, setting his gloved and gauntleted hands on its smooth surface.
It was hard not to feel personally betrayed when he had idolized the man. He had wanted to be just like him. He had hoped and prayed that someday he would become the kind of man that Alexei would admire.
And just when he'd finally felt that he had made it, Alexei... Alexei had let him down.
He studied the desk numbly. An untouched bound book of recruit profiles, a few memos from subordinates, a beautifully burnished lantern, a half-empty inkwell...
The perfectly ordinary desk of a perfectly ordinary man. Someone Flynn would have looked up to.
In a fit of frustration he lashed out with one arm, shoving everything off the surface of the desk to clatter to the floor. Then he sat in Alexei's chair with his head in his hands for a long while.
Written in response to Typetrigger prompts. It turns out that 300 words is longer than I thought. I wrote a lot of them because I felt they were too short to post just a few at a time and then... this post was huge with eleven 300-word drabbles. So I cut it in half. Here are the first six prompts:
watermelon seeds: young Flynn, young Yuri
pour the milk: Estelle, Ioder
the spice rack: Flynn, Judith, Yuri
alone with you: Estelle, Raven
uncertainty: Sodia, (Flynn)
turns to hate: Flynn, (Alexei)
Any suggestions for future ones? Any votes on what series I do next? You can tell me in the comments~
watermelon seeds: young Flynn, young Yuri
In the summer, Hanks grew watermelons, and he always saved a few for the people of the lower quarter to share. The biggest and the best were always sold, of course, but having never tasted them, Flynn couldn't say if they were better.
All he knew was that Hanks passed around slices of watermelon for everyone, and for one happy dimly-lit evening the still heat left over from the sweltering of the day was mitigated by a delicious watery treat, sliding down Flynn's throat cool and wonderful.
Yuri sat next to him on the ledge, tearing through his own watermelon, and Flynn glanced at him, nibbling on his own. He spat the seed out, and it fell somewhere far below the second-story window where they were sitting.
"Don't do that," Flynn said reprovingly. "You should save the seeds, so Hanks can grow more of them next year."
"Are you seriously going to spit out the seeds into your hand and then give them to Hanks?" Yuri returned, and rolled his eyes. "Gross. I wouldn't want them."
Flynn looked down at the slice of watermelon. He hadn't thought of it that way. "That is pretty gross," he agreed, dubiously.
"Anyway, Hanks gave them to us. We can do whatever we want with them." He spat out another seed, and then pointed. "Bet you can't get one into the stream."
Thus challenged, Flynn took a bite and tried to mimic the gesture; but, less practiced, his seed floundered and fell, down onto the head of Gregor the merchant passing below, who lifted a hand to brush through his hair with some confusion. Fortunately, he did not look up, and did not hearing the hushed snickering of two children on the ledge above him.
pour the milk: Estelle, Ioder
She felt like she sat across the table from a stranger; family she barely knew; a friend she rarely met; a charming young man near her own age (which was awkward all in itself). She had changed since they last spent time together -- casually sitting on the bench outside the council chambers, sharing updates about their lives, whispered so as not to disturb the nobles at their important work.
She had changed, and he had become the Emperor.
Estelle sat with her hands anxiously in her lap, trying not to stare at Ioder across the long chamber and the long table and the long months of silence. It was their first breakfast together since the conflict: the first truly calm, relaxed day when they could go about their new routine.
She didn't have the words to tell him she wanted to move to Halure or write stories for children. She didn't know him well enough to know how he would feel. No doubt he would smile and give her his blessing, but would he be sad? Would he feel she was neglecting her responsibilities? Would he be jealous of her freedom to choose? Someone had to be the Emperor.
While she wasn't looking Ioder had moved; she settled with his plate into a chair next to her, and she jumped, surprised. He said with a smile, "I was going to ask you if you wanted the milk, but then I realized I couldn't get it to you from all the way over there."
...Estelle smiled back at him, warming quickly. She would just have to -- get to know him, that was all.
She held her teacup out to him, and he poured her milk, blushing the tea white, just the way she had always liked it.
the spice rack: Flynn, Judith, Yuri
Judith smiled beatifically, managing to utterly ignore the malevolent look that Yuri was directing her way. Bring it, she thought without looking at him. There was nothing he could threaten her with.
He leaned closer and hissed at her, "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into."
She tilted her head to the side, still not turning to look at him properly. "Don't I?" she mused, thoughtful.
"We're all going to pay for this!"
"But mostly you, right?"
The more she smiled the darker he looked. He was making it too fun for her. Maybe she really would get a decent fight out of this, or even something more interesting.
"You're not acting in the best interests of the guild here, Judy," he muttered.
"Then I guess I'll have to be punished," she said innocently, and her lips curled up more at the edges. She'd like it, and she knew he knew that she would. She looked forward to seeing the worst he could do.
"I won't forget this," Yuri said as he settled back in his seat, arms folded and tone sullen.
Judith felt her lips turn up as Flynn returned to the table, saying happily, "This spice rack is perfect. Just the housewarming gift I was hoping for. Thank you, Judith."
"Anytime," she told him.
He was adorable when he was that happy, all lit up like a child with candy. That was what made Flynn so dangerous. But almost as adorable was Yuri when he was sulking.
So, really, it was a win-win situation.
alone with you: Estelle, Raven
Her muffled crying woke something inside of him that he'd thought was long dead. That was the problem with these kids: they were so full of hope and feelings that it kind of got under your skin. Even a tired old failure like him wasn't immune to it.
"You don't want to ask me why?" he found himself asking her. His voice was hollow even to his own ears: numb somewhere deep inside, in the cavity in his chest that used to house a heart.
Estelle sniffled. "Of course I want to," she said, voice thick with tears and misery. "But you wouldn't answer me when I asked why you wanted to go outside, and you wouldn't answer me when I asked where you were taking me, and you wouldn't answer me when I asked you to help me! You probably wouldn't even answer me."
"I didn't think you were the type who just gave up."
That at least made her a little angry; she rapped out, "What was I supposed to say?! 'Raven, why would you do this to us after everything we...' ...Raven..."
He wasn't looking at her, but he could hear her look up at him.
"...I don't even know what to call you anymore."
His chest ached. He lifted a hand up to it, just for a beat, and told himself, This blastia is getting pretty old, too, even though he knew that it had nothing to do with the blastia.
"It doesn't matter," he told her.
uncertainty: Sodia, (Flynn)
Sodia paced in the corridor outside his room, practicing what she would say to him. She felt like she was sweating far more than was called for by the mild warmth of the day, but she ignored it stubbornly. This was important -- too important to be held back by petty anxiety.
He would probably hate her if she told him everything. He would probably hate himself if she told him why he had done it. She couldn't bear to let him know.
Maybe he would hate her anyway for leaving. For saying, "I'm resigning, but I can't tell you why."
But it was better to have him think of her as unreliable than as treacherous -- as a madwoman -- as the monster who would kill a man because she had deluded herself that it was what would make his best friend truly happy.
Sodia paused, letting out a slow, unsteady breath.
What would he think? What would he say? How would he feel?
What would become of her when she went back to the home of her merchant's family in the Public Quarter in disgrace? Where would she go? Would anyone care?
Certainly not the man she had betrayed.
Or -- maybe he would, and that was why he deserved better.
"I just don't know what to do," she snapped, turning around in tearful frustration. She would do it tomorrow, think more about this -- tossing and turning as she laid awake during the night, the way she had almost every night since Zaude...
There was a guard there, staring at her with some confusion, and she went stiff.
"What are you looking at?" Sodia demanded coolly. The guard flinched and resumed his patrol without a word, and she went on her way, as if nothing was wrong.
turns to hate: Flynn, (Alexei)
For the first time in over a year, Flynn found himself in Alexei's private chamber. It had been when he made lieutenant, and Alexei had wanted to speak to him personally, commend him for coming so far and doing so well even though the knights were very much an old boy's club for the sons of nobility. Something that no one had ever done before Alexei himself; a trail that he had forged and few had followed him down.
"The Empire needs more men like you," he had said. He had seemed tired then, but there was still a light in his lined eyes, a sincerity to his sad smile. Or so Flynn had believed.
And now he was here looking for evidence of that man's treachery. Some sign of what had changed, when, why. How his noble goals had become twisted this way.
Flynn slowly crossed to Alexei's desk, setting his gloved and gauntleted hands on its smooth surface.
It was hard not to feel personally betrayed when he had idolized the man. He had wanted to be just like him. He had hoped and prayed that someday he would become the kind of man that Alexei would admire.
And just when he'd finally felt that he had made it, Alexei... Alexei had let him down.
He studied the desk numbly. An untouched bound book of recruit profiles, a few memos from subordinates, a beautifully burnished lantern, a half-empty inkwell...
The perfectly ordinary desk of a perfectly ordinary man. Someone Flynn would have looked up to.
In a fit of frustration he lashed out with one arm, shoving everything off the surface of the desk to clatter to the floor. Then he sat in Alexei's chair with his head in his hands for a long while.