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tacticianFandom: Wild ARMs 4
Genre: General/Romance?
Characters: Arnaud G. Vasquez, Raquel Applegate
Warning: Spoilers for Epilogue, done for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
1sentence.
one: air
At some point he became necessary, she realizes, reaching into the other side of the bed and expecting to find him there.
two: apples
"If I had known this would happen five years go, I would've never married you," he says as she laughs and wipes the applesauce out of his hair, their two-year-old giggling in the kitchen.
three: beginning
She's overbearing and it feels like she’s mocking him every time she opens her mouth, but he can't say a thing because she could easily chop him in half with that stupid huge sword.
four: bugs
"Women usually scream at the sight of household cockroaches," he says conversationally, as she turns around and cuts through a man-eating centipede.
five: coffee
She attempts not to laugh as he tries to swallow the black drink like a man, because he hates the taste and she knows it, which is why she makes it every morning.
six: dark
It's dark in Raquel's buried city, and Arnaud almost wants to fake fear of the dark for the sake of shifting closer.
seven: despair
Now he knows true despair, and it feels like her cold hands, looks like her shaky smile, sounds like the hacking cough that slowly tears her apart.
eight: doors
"Damn it," Arnaud mutters as their daughter bursts into their room, crying about a nightmare, while Raquel smiles patiently, pushes him off her and asks what’s wrong.
nine: drink
He first tries to kiss her while inebriated, but after she kicks him in the stomach he’s considerably more sober.
ten: duty
While pretending to read the paper, he watches her patch the hole in his jacket from across the table to make sure she doesn’t poke herself with the needle.
eleven: earth
Sometimes she thinks she has two children instead of one, when both Arnaud and their daughter are standing in the hallway, caked with mud and beaming.
twelve: end
"Let's stop traveling and settle down," Raquel says, because she has already found the most beautiful thing in all of Filgaia, and they both know that there never was a cure.
thirteen: fall
She stumbles on a pebble, but he's there, and both Jude and Yulie are far enough ahead so that she can lean a little into his touch.
fourteen: fire
She's not a master chef, but when half the camp is aflame and the formula user is standing, bewildered, even she has enough sense to know that for a cooking fire, matches suffice.
fifteen: flexible
Raquel hogs the blanket at night, and he can't even tug it back because he's not as strong.
sixteen: flying
For a second, he entertains the familiar childish aspiration of taking an airplane up to see her.
seventeen: food
Raquel can't cook and it's an established fact, but Arnaud eats everything she gives him and manages to tell her that it's good without too obviously lying.
eighteen: foot
"Ow, it kicked me!" he exclaims, but he doesn't move from where he's kneeled on the floor, ear pressed to her stomach while Raquel cards fingers through his hair.
nineteen: grave
He thinks he's getting away with it until she says levelly, without even turning around, "If you don't move your hand right now I will cut you into multiple pieces."
twenty: green
She's wearing a green dress in their family portrait, he notices while wiping dust from the frames, and she looked so young and healthy.
twenty-one: head
"It's not so bad from the neck down either," she says, meaning it as encouragement, but it doesn’t quite come out that way and even Jude starts laughing at their reddening faces.
twenty-two: hollow
She's sitting on the bed and staring out the window, sickeningly pale and thin, so it hurts when Arnaud opens the door, and the room already feels empty.
twenty-three: honor
It's a big blow to his ego when, after the honeymoon, he has to drop her on her feet at the entrance of their house and say, "Okay, I can't carry you up the steps with that thirty-pound sword on your back, Raquel."
twenty-four: hope
His demands have become more humble, and now he only wishes for one more day, hour, minute, second – just one more breath.
twenty-five: light
She's sure it doesn’t take seven tries to replace a light bulb, but Arnaud won't let a pregnant woman try.
twenty-six: lost
"Your razor sharp plan of getting us through this forest needs work," says Raquel, sick of seeing the same trees.
twenty-seven: metal
She asks if the ring is for magic casting after it falls out of his pocket, and he turns scarlet, shaking his head, kneeling down and slipping it onto her finger.
twenty-eight: new
They don't have many belongings in the first place, but Arnaud still manages to make the house look like an utter mess within a week of moving in.
twenty-nine: old
He doesn't muse about the future, because one day when he's old and gray, she won't be there.
thirty: peace
So this is what peace is like, she thinks, still chasing him out of the Frontier Town for his teasing.
thirty-one: poison
She notices how he always dispels the poisoned air around her first before tending to himself, and she wants to tell him, "Don't worry, that won't be the thing that kills me."
thirty-two: pretty
"I think it's beautiful," Arnaud says, looking at both her painting and the line of her secretly pleased smile.
thirty-three: rain
Their daughter is afraid of thunderstorms, so they keep her company, telling her stories of when they were once young and undefeatable, and it almost feels like they still are.
thirty-four: regret
"I regret nothing," she whispers, weakly drawing him to her until his shoulders stop shaking.
thirty-five: roses
"These are from daddy," their daughter says, holding the bouquet high over her head, and Raquel calls out to where he's hiding behind the door to say she forgives him.
thirty-six: secret
Secretly, he's still a little jealous that at times, she's still manlier than he is.
thirty-seven: snakes
He shrieks, jumping onto a chair, while Raquel bends down, sighing patiently while picking the serpent up and dropping it out the door.
thirty-eight: snow
Arnaud barrels her down, laughing and kissing and shoving slush down her dress until she's flushed enough so that she no longer seems to fade into the snow.
thirty-nine: solid
She complains about how clingy he is while sleeping (it embarrasses her), but he's just afraid that if he doesn't hold on tightly enough, she'll close her eyes one day and never wake up.
forty: spring
He knows the cure for this, at least, holding tissues out as she deals with the current bout of allergies.
forty-one: stable
"Would it be better if I held your hand?" she asks, and though the airship is violently shaking, Arnaud has never felt so grounded in his life.
forty-two: strange
It's not entirely different from the other awkward attempts at holding her hand, except that this time he doesn’t let her go, even when she digs the heel of her boot into his toe.
forty-three: summer
"It's...I always feel cold," she admits finally, and he stops asking her how she can stand to wear such a heavy jacket even in this weather.
forty-four: taboo
"I forbid you from teaching her any more magic," Raquel scolds sternly, looming over her abashed husband and thoroughly irritated after finding her daughter setting their curtains on fire.
forty-five: ugly
He brushes her hands away, running fingers lightly across the mottled, sickness-wrecked skin, because regardless of what Raquel thinks, there is and has never been anything ugly about her.
forty-six: war
They've already won their wars, so as he lays the wet cloth on her burning forehead, Arnaud wonders why they still have to fight so hard.
forty-seven: water
She's doing the laundry on the shore, and it's entirely too mundane so he sneaks up behind her, pushes her into the stream and runs for his life.
forty-eight: welcome
"Wow, it's huge!" Jude exclaims when she lets them in, and she almost thinks that Arnaud has roped them into making fun of the extra bit of weight she’s put on during maternity, until she realizes they’re talking about the baby.
forty-nine: winter
While she looks out at the landscape, musing on its natural beauty, Arnaud leans his forehead on the chilly window, silently thankful for another year.
fifty: wood
As they throw dirt over the wooden coffin, he is stoic, but he can feel part of his world being buried there, in that deep, dark hole in the ground.
Genre: General/Romance?
Characters: Arnaud G. Vasquez, Raquel Applegate
Warning: Spoilers for Epilogue, done for
1sentence.one: air
At some point he became necessary, she realizes, reaching into the other side of the bed and expecting to find him there.
two: apples
"If I had known this would happen five years go, I would've never married you," he says as she laughs and wipes the applesauce out of his hair, their two-year-old giggling in the kitchen.
three: beginning
She's overbearing and it feels like she’s mocking him every time she opens her mouth, but he can't say a thing because she could easily chop him in half with that stupid huge sword.
four: bugs
"Women usually scream at the sight of household cockroaches," he says conversationally, as she turns around and cuts through a man-eating centipede.
five: coffee
She attempts not to laugh as he tries to swallow the black drink like a man, because he hates the taste and she knows it, which is why she makes it every morning.
six: dark
It's dark in Raquel's buried city, and Arnaud almost wants to fake fear of the dark for the sake of shifting closer.
seven: despair
Now he knows true despair, and it feels like her cold hands, looks like her shaky smile, sounds like the hacking cough that slowly tears her apart.
eight: doors
"Damn it," Arnaud mutters as their daughter bursts into their room, crying about a nightmare, while Raquel smiles patiently, pushes him off her and asks what’s wrong.
nine: drink
He first tries to kiss her while inebriated, but after she kicks him in the stomach he’s considerably more sober.
ten: duty
While pretending to read the paper, he watches her patch the hole in his jacket from across the table to make sure she doesn’t poke herself with the needle.
eleven: earth
Sometimes she thinks she has two children instead of one, when both Arnaud and their daughter are standing in the hallway, caked with mud and beaming.
twelve: end
"Let's stop traveling and settle down," Raquel says, because she has already found the most beautiful thing in all of Filgaia, and they both know that there never was a cure.
thirteen: fall
She stumbles on a pebble, but he's there, and both Jude and Yulie are far enough ahead so that she can lean a little into his touch.
fourteen: fire
She's not a master chef, but when half the camp is aflame and the formula user is standing, bewildered, even she has enough sense to know that for a cooking fire, matches suffice.
fifteen: flexible
Raquel hogs the blanket at night, and he can't even tug it back because he's not as strong.
sixteen: flying
For a second, he entertains the familiar childish aspiration of taking an airplane up to see her.
seventeen: food
Raquel can't cook and it's an established fact, but Arnaud eats everything she gives him and manages to tell her that it's good without too obviously lying.
eighteen: foot
"Ow, it kicked me!" he exclaims, but he doesn't move from where he's kneeled on the floor, ear pressed to her stomach while Raquel cards fingers through his hair.
nineteen: grave
He thinks he's getting away with it until she says levelly, without even turning around, "If you don't move your hand right now I will cut you into multiple pieces."
twenty: green
She's wearing a green dress in their family portrait, he notices while wiping dust from the frames, and she looked so young and healthy.
twenty-one: head
"It's not so bad from the neck down either," she says, meaning it as encouragement, but it doesn’t quite come out that way and even Jude starts laughing at their reddening faces.
twenty-two: hollow
She's sitting on the bed and staring out the window, sickeningly pale and thin, so it hurts when Arnaud opens the door, and the room already feels empty.
twenty-three: honor
It's a big blow to his ego when, after the honeymoon, he has to drop her on her feet at the entrance of their house and say, "Okay, I can't carry you up the steps with that thirty-pound sword on your back, Raquel."
twenty-four: hope
His demands have become more humble, and now he only wishes for one more day, hour, minute, second – just one more breath.
twenty-five: light
She's sure it doesn’t take seven tries to replace a light bulb, but Arnaud won't let a pregnant woman try.
twenty-six: lost
"Your razor sharp plan of getting us through this forest needs work," says Raquel, sick of seeing the same trees.
twenty-seven: metal
She asks if the ring is for magic casting after it falls out of his pocket, and he turns scarlet, shaking his head, kneeling down and slipping it onto her finger.
twenty-eight: new
They don't have many belongings in the first place, but Arnaud still manages to make the house look like an utter mess within a week of moving in.
twenty-nine: old
He doesn't muse about the future, because one day when he's old and gray, she won't be there.
thirty: peace
So this is what peace is like, she thinks, still chasing him out of the Frontier Town for his teasing.
thirty-one: poison
She notices how he always dispels the poisoned air around her first before tending to himself, and she wants to tell him, "Don't worry, that won't be the thing that kills me."
thirty-two: pretty
"I think it's beautiful," Arnaud says, looking at both her painting and the line of her secretly pleased smile.
thirty-three: rain
Their daughter is afraid of thunderstorms, so they keep her company, telling her stories of when they were once young and undefeatable, and it almost feels like they still are.
thirty-four: regret
"I regret nothing," she whispers, weakly drawing him to her until his shoulders stop shaking.
thirty-five: roses
"These are from daddy," their daughter says, holding the bouquet high over her head, and Raquel calls out to where he's hiding behind the door to say she forgives him.
thirty-six: secret
Secretly, he's still a little jealous that at times, she's still manlier than he is.
thirty-seven: snakes
He shrieks, jumping onto a chair, while Raquel bends down, sighing patiently while picking the serpent up and dropping it out the door.
thirty-eight: snow
Arnaud barrels her down, laughing and kissing and shoving slush down her dress until she's flushed enough so that she no longer seems to fade into the snow.
thirty-nine: solid
She complains about how clingy he is while sleeping (it embarrasses her), but he's just afraid that if he doesn't hold on tightly enough, she'll close her eyes one day and never wake up.
forty: spring
He knows the cure for this, at least, holding tissues out as she deals with the current bout of allergies.
forty-one: stable
"Would it be better if I held your hand?" she asks, and though the airship is violently shaking, Arnaud has never felt so grounded in his life.
forty-two: strange
It's not entirely different from the other awkward attempts at holding her hand, except that this time he doesn’t let her go, even when she digs the heel of her boot into his toe.
forty-three: summer
"It's...I always feel cold," she admits finally, and he stops asking her how she can stand to wear such a heavy jacket even in this weather.
forty-four: taboo
"I forbid you from teaching her any more magic," Raquel scolds sternly, looming over her abashed husband and thoroughly irritated after finding her daughter setting their curtains on fire.
forty-five: ugly
He brushes her hands away, running fingers lightly across the mottled, sickness-wrecked skin, because regardless of what Raquel thinks, there is and has never been anything ugly about her.
forty-six: war
They've already won their wars, so as he lays the wet cloth on her burning forehead, Arnaud wonders why they still have to fight so hard.
forty-seven: water
She's doing the laundry on the shore, and it's entirely too mundane so he sneaks up behind her, pushes her into the stream and runs for his life.
forty-eight: welcome
"Wow, it's huge!" Jude exclaims when she lets them in, and she almost thinks that Arnaud has roped them into making fun of the extra bit of weight she’s put on during maternity, until she realizes they’re talking about the baby.
forty-nine: winter
While she looks out at the landscape, musing on its natural beauty, Arnaud leans his forehead on the chilly window, silently thankful for another year.
fifty: wood
As they throw dirt over the wooden coffin, he is stoic, but he can feel part of his world being buried there, in that deep, dark hole in the ground.