Fictif Last Legacy: x reader oneshots

You and Anisa make up with Felix after an argument

Anisa has been pacing around her study for a decent five minutes, a large stack of incident reports still unfiled on her desk.

"You're still thinking about it too?" you ask gently, the argument shadowing the edges of your thoughts. While Anisa was quick to dismiss Felix's behaviour as dramatic, it's clear she isn't wholly okay with the way they left things. Either that, or Felix's harsh words have cut closer than he would've wanted.

"Ugh. Yes." Anisa stops pacing and abandons her attempt at indifference, her expression momentarily clouded with worry. "I just... yes."

She pulls up a chair and collapses half-heartedly into it, poking at the stack of papers. She smiles weakly and points, and you can't help crack a small smile too. It's the report lodged by Mounfall's city patrol after it took five guards to extricate Felix from a hedge. The necromancer's portals, in your brief experience, never do come with the most graceful landings.

"I just want him to realise. The type of magic he's using... it's serious. It has consequences." Anisa's eyes are searching, imploring, as if she almost desperately wants you to disagree.

"I think he knows it's serious," you say quietly, and by the way Anisa closes her eyes, you're sure she already knew it too. She draws a slow breath, trying, for your sake, to put on a braver face.

"You must think us awfully morose," she laughs apologetically. "Snapping at each other about battles you haven't fought, about magic you haven't yet seen."

Her shoulders slump a little, something harrowed flinching behind her eyes. Though you might be far from home, the feeling isn't entirely unfamiliar to you- regret, or too many bad memories, her dues paid to the war.

"We have battles and demons where I'm from too," you murmur, and while you're not exactly sure that's comforting, more than anything you want Anisa to know she's not alone. "Back in my realm, I wish I could un-say the silly stuff I say all the time. Or... not let as many things upset me? Or just do things a bit better. Or a lot better."

You look up, and it takes you by surprise to see Anisa listening to you. For some reason you assumed that while your company might be appreciated, it would be that and no more, a shoulder to lean on while Anisa resolved things in her own mind. The fact that you're opening up is one thing, but realising the things you say actually matter to Anisa is suddenly hitting you even harder.

"It wasn't me who flew off the handle though," Anisa says glumly, but you can feel her heart isn't in it. While Anisa may not have stormed from the room, you both know her words hit Felix where it hurt.

"I know," you murmur. "Which is why, if Felix is anything like me, he'd probably really, really appreciate the chance to take that back."

Anisa exhales, some of the weight leaving her shoulders as she looks at you curiously.

"It's kind of embarrassing... you know, once you realise you've overreacted," you laugh, then swallow, then frown; a small smile twitching at Anisa's features too. "Not... uh, not that I've done anything like that before."

You sit for a while, Anisa gently tugging at the fingertips of her gloves. "I've just known him so long..." she starts, trailing off. "How else do you tell your best friend that you're scared you're going to lose him?"

You join her in staring up at the ceiling, your gaze tracing the cracks of peeling paint, a dusty candelabra that hasn't been lit in years. You don't have an answer for that, as much as you wish you did.

"Sometimes I think everything's harder to see, the more it means to you," you find yourself whispering.

Anisa nods, and you suddenly find yourself brought back to your ill-fated arrival, Felix's desperate hope and relief when just for a second, he thought he'd succeeded in his plan.

Anisa's words linger, finding their way back to you. Spirit theft has always been a necromancer's trick.

-

You expect the moment to come much later, or at least when Anisa and Felix are alone. But after locking-up Anisa's study for the evening, you notice a flickering from one of the smaller antechambers down the hall, candlelight bouncing off the stone as you and Anisa walk past. Felix fails to notice you at the door, one of his legs crossed over the other as he peers tensely down at a book.

Anisa pauses mid-stride, then ducks her head and keeps walking, mumbling something about not wanting to disturb him. You can barely keep pace with her let alone reply, and the two of you are nearly jogging down the passage when Felix appears in the archway behind you. He looks bewildered, perhaps from all the sudden echoing footsteps, his uncertainty quickly closing off as he meets eyes with Anisa. His mouth presses to a firm line.

Anisa holds her ground, then turns and crosses the hall back toward Felix, suddenly determined.

"You'll always be my dearest friend, you know," she whispers harshly, and for all the feeling behind it, she doesn't sound like she's admitted it often. "Always. But you're not the only one who misses... who cares. There's a reason necromancy is forbidden, it's because it changes people, it takes you closer to where you can't come back."

Anisa covers her face with her hands as a small, angry sob escapes her. Felix draws a low breath, his earlier airs crumbling. He reaches out to hug her, at first clumsily, then tighter as she leans into him, the same hands that parted a spirit from a soul now shaky as he doesn't let go.

"I'm here... hush, it's me," Felix falters, his exhale leaving his lungs as if he's been winded, Anisa's hair sticking to his mouth. "I... oh Annie, I already feel awful, it's still just me."

It takes you a moment to realise that he's no longer speaking the common language, his tone soft and bereft of its usual stiffness as he tries to comfort her. Anisa whispers an apology, Felix blushing and clamming-up upon hearing it, apparently he knows less what to do with sincerity than an insult.

"I am here, though. Forgive me," Felix mutters. He looks so incredibly drained, then, his book still splayed open where he left it, a candle burning low at his desk. He pinches the wick between a thumb and forefinger to put it out, then folds his arms back around her, holding on.

-