Blizzard
Ahhh... I've been working on this one for a while now. I'm glad I've finally finished it.
Characters: Kurtz Bessel, Malik Caesars.
Fandom: Tales of Graces.
Pairings: Maybe some Kurtz/Malik if you squint. But I left it out on purpose.
Warnings/rating: It's one big HONKING TALES OF GRACES SPOILER. Well, in regards to Malik, anyway.
Summary: What happened twenty years ago.
It was snowing. A rather pointless observation on its own, as there was rarely a time when it didn't snow in Fendel, though at the moment it was more of a blizzard than anything else. The snow came down in such a grand flurry that it was difficult to see anything but blinding white on the other side of the window. Kurtz watched with mild interest as he sat by the table nearest the fireplace, a glass of vodka in one hand. When was the last time they had a snow storm as heavy as this one? It must've been a few years. He pitied anyone who was forced to go outside in this weather.
He was so deeply lost in thoughts that a sudden knocking on the door caused him to give a mild start. Who would even expect a visitor when the weather was this bad? He reached the door in a few quick strides and pulled it open to reveal a man who was covered in snowflakes and shivering lightly, arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to keep himself warm.
"... Malik."
Malik raised a hand in greeting, only to hastily lower it again. Despite the cold, he managed a brave grimace. "Yo."
"What are you doing outside in this weather?" Kurtz demanded with a frown.
"Waiting for you to invite me in, obviously."
Kurtz sighed and stepped aside- a sign that Malik was allowed to enter. The other man wasted no time stepping over the treshold, leaving a trail of snow in his wake that only Kurtz took notice of.
"Oh, you were expecting me? How nice of you." Malik made a quick gesture towards the vodka, that was still standing on the table.
Before Kurtz could even utter a protest, Malik had already snatched the glass up and drained it in one go.
"Why are you here?"
It seemed Malik was determined not to meet Kurtz's eyes. He was glancing around the room blankly, a smirk still tugging at his lips. Something was off about that smirk... It seemed strained, somehow.
"... Where do you keep your alcohol? I need a refill."
"Malik." Kurtz strode over to his companion, making sure to stand in front of him so he could no longer be ignored. Malik's eyes widened slightly, but they didn't dare look away. "I'll ask you again. Why are you here?"
For a few seconds, Malik said nothing and the silence was deafening. Then, finally, he blinked and turned his gaze to the far wall. "I need to leave Zavhert for a while."
"Why? Where are you going?"
"... Velanik. For now."
Kurtz frowned. Something was definitely off here. And Malik was still grimacing as if he was desperate to hide something. "For now? What's that supposed to mean?"
There was a shake of the head, before Malik tried to push past Kurtz, towards the kitchen. "It doesn't matter. I just... I need to leave for a bit."
"You need to leave for a bit?" Kurtz repeated, wondering vaguely if his fiend had lost his mind. People who were in the rebellion couldn't just 'leave for a bit'. Especially not when said rebellion had given them instructions to infiltrate Fendel Tower soon. A fact that Kurtz was just about to vocalize when his eyes fell on Malik's sleeve. "... Is that blood?"
Malik stopped walking, still clutching the glass in one hand, but didn't say a word. Nor did he look back.
"Malik, what the hell did you do?! If you've blown your cover you shouldn't even be here!" Kurtz hissed the last part through clenched teeth. What if the soldiers were out looking for Malik right now? If they found him in this house, there'd be a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
Another long silence passed. Kurtz was just about to open his mouth again when Malik finally spoke. "... Roberia is dead."
The news hit Kurtz like a ton of bricks. One of his hands came to rest on the back of a chair as a nasty feeling washed over him. It was like a mix of nausea and cold. "She... What?"
"She was discovered. ... So they shot her." Still refusing to look at him, Malik reached into his jacket and pulled out a bundle of papers, which he dropped onto the table.
"What's that?"
"She stole these. It's how they caught her," Malik said in a blank tone of voice. It was clear he didn't give a damn about the papers. Neither did Kurtz. Their friend died for that?
The realization washed over him that Roberia was gone for good. She wouldn't come by to tease him anymore. She wouldn't invite him out for drinks anymore. Life had left her body, which was now lying lord-knows-where. There's no way they could bury it when the temperature was this low. Kurtz was faintly aware that his fingers were grasping the chair more tightly than before.
With a dull thud, the vodka glass was set back down on the table and Malik was striding across the room. It took Kurtz a few seconds to realize the man was leaving. He moved immediately, hoping to intercept Malik before he could reach the door. "Wait. You don't need to... They haven't seen you, have they?"
"It doesn't matter. I can't stay here."
"Yes, you can! I'll hide you for now. We'll find a way to fix this. You just need to-"
"Kurtz, you aren't listening. I need to leave." When Malik turned to face him, he wasn't smirking anymore. If anything, it was more like a glare. A glare that was so unfamiliar on his face that Kurtz felt a small sting of intimidation. "This country... It makes me sick."
"But you... Where will you go?"
"Anywhere." Malik moved forward again, pushing Kurtz aside with a quick sweep of his arm. Then he reached for the doorknob.
In a split second, Kurtz was hit by the sudden notion that Malik wasn't going to return. The moment he would walk out that door, he'd be gone forever. He wasn't entirely sure what made him think that, but the idea that it could very well be true caused fear to rush through his body.
Malik was leaving. Kurtz had only just lost Roberia and now Malik would willingly walk out of his life as well. The two people he was closest to... He couldn't allow that to happen. There was nothing to be done about Roberia, but Malik... He could still prevent Malik from leaving.
His fingers closed around the man's arm, near his wrist, hoping to pull his hand away from the door. "Don't go."
Malik didn't speak. He didn't even look at Kurtz. His gaze was still on the doorknob.
"Malik, please. We can make this work. Just don't leave."
Kurtz couldn't keep the pleading tone out of his voice. He needed his friend to understand. Something wet pressed against his palm- it was the bloodstain he'd seen on Malik's sleeve. Blood that belonged to Roberia, no doubt. Once he realized that, Kurtz's grip slackened and Malik took the opportunity to wrench his arm free.
"I'm sorry." With that, the door was pulled open and Malik stepped outside to greet the flurry of snow. Kurtz recoiled in reflex against the cold wind that blew into his face, which was all the time his friend needed to stride down the steps and onto the road.
"Malik, wait! Come back!"
For a second, Kurtz considered turning to grab his coat from the nearby rack, but it was too late. Malik had already broken into a run and rounded a corner within moments. Kurtz would never be able to catch him now. He could feel his face contort into such a deep expression of anguish that his muscles actually hurt from it. With a bitter scoff, he closed the door again.
There was always the slim chance that Malik might change his mind. That he'd show up again within a few days, fully prepared to give some sort of cover story for the benefit of the rebellion. But the days turned into weeks. The weeks turned into months. Five years later, Kurtz was willing to accept that his friend would never return to Fendel.
Malik Caesars had perished in the blizzard.
Characters: Kurtz Bessel, Malik Caesars.
Fandom: Tales of Graces.
Pairings: Maybe some Kurtz/Malik if you squint. But I left it out on purpose.
Warnings/rating: It's one big HONKING TALES OF GRACES SPOILER. Well, in regards to Malik, anyway.
Summary: What happened twenty years ago.
It was snowing. A rather pointless observation on its own, as there was rarely a time when it didn't snow in Fendel, though at the moment it was more of a blizzard than anything else. The snow came down in such a grand flurry that it was difficult to see anything but blinding white on the other side of the window. Kurtz watched with mild interest as he sat by the table nearest the fireplace, a glass of vodka in one hand. When was the last time they had a snow storm as heavy as this one? It must've been a few years. He pitied anyone who was forced to go outside in this weather.
He was so deeply lost in thoughts that a sudden knocking on the door caused him to give a mild start. Who would even expect a visitor when the weather was this bad? He reached the door in a few quick strides and pulled it open to reveal a man who was covered in snowflakes and shivering lightly, arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to keep himself warm.
"... Malik."
Malik raised a hand in greeting, only to hastily lower it again. Despite the cold, he managed a brave grimace. "Yo."
"What are you doing outside in this weather?" Kurtz demanded with a frown.
"Waiting for you to invite me in, obviously."
Kurtz sighed and stepped aside- a sign that Malik was allowed to enter. The other man wasted no time stepping over the treshold, leaving a trail of snow in his wake that only Kurtz took notice of.
"Oh, you were expecting me? How nice of you." Malik made a quick gesture towards the vodka, that was still standing on the table.
Before Kurtz could even utter a protest, Malik had already snatched the glass up and drained it in one go.
"Why are you here?"
It seemed Malik was determined not to meet Kurtz's eyes. He was glancing around the room blankly, a smirk still tugging at his lips. Something was off about that smirk... It seemed strained, somehow.
"... Where do you keep your alcohol? I need a refill."
"Malik." Kurtz strode over to his companion, making sure to stand in front of him so he could no longer be ignored. Malik's eyes widened slightly, but they didn't dare look away. "I'll ask you again. Why are you here?"
For a few seconds, Malik said nothing and the silence was deafening. Then, finally, he blinked and turned his gaze to the far wall. "I need to leave Zavhert for a while."
"Why? Where are you going?"
"... Velanik. For now."
Kurtz frowned. Something was definitely off here. And Malik was still grimacing as if he was desperate to hide something. "For now? What's that supposed to mean?"
There was a shake of the head, before Malik tried to push past Kurtz, towards the kitchen. "It doesn't matter. I just... I need to leave for a bit."
"You need to leave for a bit?" Kurtz repeated, wondering vaguely if his fiend had lost his mind. People who were in the rebellion couldn't just 'leave for a bit'. Especially not when said rebellion had given them instructions to infiltrate Fendel Tower soon. A fact that Kurtz was just about to vocalize when his eyes fell on Malik's sleeve. "... Is that blood?"
Malik stopped walking, still clutching the glass in one hand, but didn't say a word. Nor did he look back.
"Malik, what the hell did you do?! If you've blown your cover you shouldn't even be here!" Kurtz hissed the last part through clenched teeth. What if the soldiers were out looking for Malik right now? If they found him in this house, there'd be a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
Another long silence passed. Kurtz was just about to open his mouth again when Malik finally spoke. "... Roberia is dead."
The news hit Kurtz like a ton of bricks. One of his hands came to rest on the back of a chair as a nasty feeling washed over him. It was like a mix of nausea and cold. "She... What?"
"She was discovered. ... So they shot her." Still refusing to look at him, Malik reached into his jacket and pulled out a bundle of papers, which he dropped onto the table.
"What's that?"
"She stole these. It's how they caught her," Malik said in a blank tone of voice. It was clear he didn't give a damn about the papers. Neither did Kurtz. Their friend died for that?
The realization washed over him that Roberia was gone for good. She wouldn't come by to tease him anymore. She wouldn't invite him out for drinks anymore. Life had left her body, which was now lying lord-knows-where. There's no way they could bury it when the temperature was this low. Kurtz was faintly aware that his fingers were grasping the chair more tightly than before.
With a dull thud, the vodka glass was set back down on the table and Malik was striding across the room. It took Kurtz a few seconds to realize the man was leaving. He moved immediately, hoping to intercept Malik before he could reach the door. "Wait. You don't need to... They haven't seen you, have they?"
"It doesn't matter. I can't stay here."
"Yes, you can! I'll hide you for now. We'll find a way to fix this. You just need to-"
"Kurtz, you aren't listening. I need to leave." When Malik turned to face him, he wasn't smirking anymore. If anything, it was more like a glare. A glare that was so unfamiliar on his face that Kurtz felt a small sting of intimidation. "This country... It makes me sick."
"But you... Where will you go?"
"Anywhere." Malik moved forward again, pushing Kurtz aside with a quick sweep of his arm. Then he reached for the doorknob.
In a split second, Kurtz was hit by the sudden notion that Malik wasn't going to return. The moment he would walk out that door, he'd be gone forever. He wasn't entirely sure what made him think that, but the idea that it could very well be true caused fear to rush through his body.
Malik was leaving. Kurtz had only just lost Roberia and now Malik would willingly walk out of his life as well. The two people he was closest to... He couldn't allow that to happen. There was nothing to be done about Roberia, but Malik... He could still prevent Malik from leaving.
His fingers closed around the man's arm, near his wrist, hoping to pull his hand away from the door. "Don't go."
Malik didn't speak. He didn't even look at Kurtz. His gaze was still on the doorknob.
"Malik, please. We can make this work. Just don't leave."
Kurtz couldn't keep the pleading tone out of his voice. He needed his friend to understand. Something wet pressed against his palm- it was the bloodstain he'd seen on Malik's sleeve. Blood that belonged to Roberia, no doubt. Once he realized that, Kurtz's grip slackened and Malik took the opportunity to wrench his arm free.
"I'm sorry." With that, the door was pulled open and Malik stepped outside to greet the flurry of snow. Kurtz recoiled in reflex against the cold wind that blew into his face, which was all the time his friend needed to stride down the steps and onto the road.
"Malik, wait! Come back!"
For a second, Kurtz considered turning to grab his coat from the nearby rack, but it was too late. Malik had already broken into a run and rounded a corner within moments. Kurtz would never be able to catch him now. He could feel his face contort into such a deep expression of anguish that his muscles actually hurt from it. With a bitter scoff, he closed the door again.
There was always the slim chance that Malik might change his mind. That he'd show up again within a few days, fully prepared to give some sort of cover story for the benefit of the rebellion. But the days turned into weeks. The weeks turned into months. Five years later, Kurtz was willing to accept that his friend would never return to Fendel.
Malik Caesars had perished in the blizzard.