Linking Rings
Ship: Linnet/Kestrel
Word Count: 1323 words
Summary: A golden hair clip, a silver ring, a magician bringing his rings together, and ripping them apart. (An introduction to Linnet and Kestrel.)
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"Oh, it's beautiful! I'll never take it off."
"...It matches your eyes."
"Huh? Haha, no it doesn't! My eyes are brown, Bl-"
An adventurer wears a bit of gold in his hair, all delicate filigree that stands out against the sharp stones all around him, jutting out from the dungeon walls. He's with two others, which he has decided that he can't stand. They only call him "songbird."
Adventurers had about a thousand superstitions under normal circumstances, and having essentially a zombie right next to them didn't exactly qualify as normal for most. He hadn't even told them he was a songbird, but people could tell. Most claimed it was something in the eyes.
Some considered them good luck, if you have someone blessed enough to have cheated death once, what's to say that it wouldn't happen a second time if things were to go awry? Some considered them basically the equivalent of seeing thirteen black cats in a row while you smash mirrors for fun. After all, if they're cursed enough that death didn't take them properly, perhaps you'll be taken in their place if you're unfortunate to be near them.
This particular adventurer likes to think of himself as more of a person than a charm, for good or for ill. More of himself than just a type of thing. But... who was asking him anyways? He dealt with it, responded to songbird like it was his name, and silently considered not healing these idiots whenever they got themselves into trouble.
"You need to stop wearing that thing," party member number one says. They have names, but if he's songbird, then they're party member one and two.
"What thing?" Smile, pleasant tone, adorable head tilt in just the way that makes the small strand of beads connected to his hair clip clink together. It's all carefully thought out, as always. Show anything real and something will eat it alive. Spirits, other adventurers, they're all vultures, and he's a walking corpse.
"That!" They gesture, exasperated, at the clip. "It's shiny, catches the attention of spirits. And it always makes that noise when you move your head! You're going to get us killed, songbird."
The other one leans forward, reaching their arm as if they're going to pluck it from his hair.
He doesn't quite know why that's the thing that sets him off, after two months of dealing with them. It might be one of their more reasonable gripes, honestly. But, when he sees them reaching towards him... It's as if all logic, all of his careful acting flicks off like a light. It was more like protecting a vital organ than an accessory.
He grabs that hand reaching towards him, and twists to the left until he hears a pained cry.
"My name is Linnet."
He leaves them that day, the instant he gets out of the dungeon. Doesn't even pause to count his share of the treasure they found. They shorted him five silver, but it would be the last time they did so.
"Wait, this is... this is for me? N-No, this was probably expensive-"
"No take backs!"
"W-Wait! Don't just put it on me! You know how that looks when it's a ring, De-"
A different adventurer wears a bit of silver around his finger. He repeatedly taps it with his thumb, a constant check to make sure that it's still there. It fell off in a dungeon once before, he's sure of that, even if he can't exactly remember when.
He's going into this dungeon alone, which some would certainly consider foolish. He considers it faster, more efficient, quieter. Sure, if you were a regular adventurer you'd only go alone if you had a death wish, but... this particular adventurer was a songbird, a rarity among adventurers. He was also competent and had common sense, which he considered perhaps even more of a rarity.
Of course, competency doesn't save you from injury, especially for users of the gore arts. He can feel the dull ache of several wounds on his arms, where he had to draw some power to take care of the spirits he'd seen up until now. It could be useful to have a healer come with him... On his own, sure he could get in and get out, but he was never able to go all the way to the end. Supposedly, the end was where the best stuff was. Treasure, magical items, even ways to close the dungeon, to get rid of all the spirits inside.
Well, for now at least, he's found enough treasure to make this trip worthwhile. Unnecessary risk was how you got yourself killed, that was how he'd watched other adventurers die. He wasn't like them, he wouldn't end up like them. He sighs heavily and pulls the ring off of his finger, tossing it between his hands for a moment. It's not a nervous habit, because that would mean that he's nervous, and he can't be that.
"Keep it together, Kestrel."
As if to immediately punish him for his moment of nerves- loneliness- talking to himself for no reason, a flying sword embed itself in the wall, missing him by what couldn't have been more than a few inches. He drops his ring in the moment of shock, and it goes rolling across the cracked linoleum tiles. Kestrel, in that moment, doesn't think, he simply bites down on his finger and points at the possessed thing, firing a concentrated beam of his own blood at it. And, perhaps that was just a bit overboard.
The sword is blasted easily into the next room, but Kestrel can feel the negative effects of his own moment of panic immediately. Weak, sluggish, his head pounds and his skin feels cold. He meant to run over to where his ring had landed, but he ends up walking, each step a bit heavier than intended. He had already been planning on leaving, but this makes that completely necessary.
This is some sort of stupid sign, to have this happen right after he thought, however momentarily, about having a healer. So, damn it, alright, if this is Love or Death or something else communicating with him, he'll listen! Doesn't mean he has to be happy about it.
As he climbs up the stairs, feels the sun glinting entirely too harshly in his eyes, he does his best to control his breathing, to not let the tiredness in his limbs convince him that he needs to sit and rest, just for a moment-
There's someone at the top of the stairs, someone with a shiny little gold circle in his hair, angled perfectly to glint right into Kestrel's eyes.
"You don't look so good!" The shiny stranger lets out a nervous little laugh as he reaches up and adjusts his hair clip.
Kestrel means to say something in return, probably a quick "I'm aware," or something like that, but he can't find the words. He taps his ring with his thumb absentmindedly. This person...
"Um... I have bandages! C'mon." He clearly thinks Kestrel is acting strange, just standing there and staring at him, even if he won't say that so directly. But, he just grabs Kestrel's hand to lead him fully out of the dungeon, up the last few steps. There's clear impatience in his movements, even as he attempts a reassuring smile back at him.
"I'm Linnet, by the way!"
He finally manages to shake the strange feeling that had come over him. Blood loss, that's what it was.
"Kestrel."
Somewhere, a magician's linking rings click back together, after being torn apart for so long.
"Were you waiting out here for me the whole time?"
"Oh my g- Delwyn! You're bleeding! Here, I brought some bandages, let me help..."
"Haha! You always take such good care of me. Just... maybe don't wait right on the stairs next time? I don't want you getting hurt, Blaidd."