Hnybnny
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Seeds (Artix & the Reader)
hnybnny, did you just write a self-insert fanfiction?! you're darn tootin' i did. bless.
Knees aching from hours spent toiling in the yard, you frowned at the small lumps in the dirt- the only indication that you had planted anything just a few weeks prior. According to all known laws of gardening (at least, the ones you got from books) it should have sprouted by now. At least a little green shoot should have appeared; but it was as brown and colorless as the day you had shuffled the Doomwood dirt over it.
Perhaps it was the climate, perhaps the season, perhaps the fact that hardly anything living grew in the cursed place except for pumpkins and corn (but only in abandoned cornfields, mind you). Your frown only grew as your stomach grumbled, and with a sigh you stood slowly to your feet, taking in the dark landscape around you. Living in Doomwood was hard- even in a town. But living outside of a town? Even harder. You had resided in a ramshackle farmhouse on the outskirts of Amityvale for a year or so, the small house a relic from before the fog had turned the place, well, doom-y. At least, that’s what the books said. Pretty sure those informative tomes Magus Neron had loaned you were the only reason you were still kicking, with flesh on your bones, anyways.
Had space been available in the town, you would have taken it in a heartbeat. But, unfortunately, due to the absolute ****fest of events happening around Lore, the town was flooded with refugees who occupied every inch of the town. Not that you minded them- they were certainly kinder (and less creepy) as a whole than the native residents of the town. And… you didn’t really do creepy. Despite… your current residence.
Maybe the town would have had better soil, though…
In a huff of frustration you kicked the small piles, sending dirt and black, rotting seeds flying past the fence line- to hit with a metallic ping and a masculine noise that could be loosely translated as, ‘what the heck?’
That’s not what seeds and dirt hitting even more dirt sounded like. Your head jerked up, blush already forming on your cheeks from embarrassment as you stared, like an idiot, at the armored stranger leaning against your rackety fence and wiping dirt away from his face. Blowing a raspberry, he spat a seed out and watched it land in his palm as he pulled a face. You had no idea how long you had been staring, when in actuality it had been perhaps ten seconds, when the man glanced up at you and stuck out his hand with the seed, offering a sheepish smile along with it. “I… believe this is yours?”
Oh Avatars, he’s cute.
Going by his armor and the ridiculously large, ridiculously shiny battleaxe on his back, the man seemed to be a member of those paladins from Lightguard (and seemed to be potentially, well, compensating for something). You had seen a few of them at the inn when you visited town, but hardly ever without those bucket-like helmets and quips about ‘righteousness’ and ‘justice’. Quips that were only entertaining when they were delivered by a fellow in full battle armor, nearly passed out drunk over Rosemary’s tables. He seemed rather young, however- perhaps a year or two older than yourself, but hardly more than that.
“Um… Thank you?” You said, confused, taking the seed from his hand and tucking it in the front pocket of your frock. An air of awkwardness settled over the two of you, but you seemed to be the only one sensing it, as the other man was still smiling away as if he had just delivered to you a lost puppy. A beat passed to collect your thoughts, and you cleared your throat. “May I help you, ser?” You said, remembering to tack on the formality at the end, considering the fact that your companion was either, as you guessed, a paladin; or a knight, both of which were quite respectable positions.
The man blinked. Blinked again. Then in a fervor of energy that to be quite honest startled the daylights out of you, he recoiled in surprise with a sharp ‘Oh!’, vaulted over the fence, got down on one knee, and took your hand. “My apologies! Greetings and salutations, my lady- I am Artix von Krieger, High Paladin, at your service.” He looked up expectantly at you, still smiling away. Didn’t his cheeks hurt, or something? Avatars, they had to at this point! At the moment you were still in a bit of shock, staring owlishly at the paladin who held your hand as if proposing marriage, with cheeks as red as one of those moglins.
The best you could do was stutter out a few syllables that vaguely sounded like ‘What?’, too weirded out by this man to even pull your hand away. Didn’t your mother taught you something about stranger danger…?
With just as much energy as before, this Artix continued his spiel after realizing you were not going to introduce yourself in turn. “Excuse my intrusion, I was just on my way to Amityvale on important paladin-y duties and I may have, er…” With the hand not holding yours he rubbed the back of his head and chuckled. “Gotten a bit side-tracked by all the undead in the forest. There’s a whole hoard out there; I wanted to take them all out, but the other paladins would appreciate perhaps having some for themselves. Still, got a few hundred knocked out, so that isn’t bad!” Another laugh, as you just stared. A few… hundred…? Out… there? You gulped. “You wouldn’t perhaps know which way Amityvale is, miss?” He raised an eyebrow, hoping for a response this time. You nodded, turning slightly to point at an angle behind you, were the lights of the town could barely be made out beyond the suffocating trees. You felt the pressure on your hand disappear, and you turned back only be the looking the man and his cute smile (with cute dimples!) right in the face.
You’d think he’d have been taller.
“Thank you then, miss! With that, I will be on my way. The help is much appreciated.” He gave a two-fingered salute, poised to dash off, but then, as an afterthought, he leaned down again and took your hand again in his, pressing his lips to your skin. Standing up once more he winked at you, offered a word of hope in meeting again, and ran off much faster than a man in full plate armor should be able to run.
After a few moments pause, you couldn’t help but laugh, the blush slowly recceeding from your cheeks as you reflected on the absurd thing that just happened. Then your eyes were drawn the forest line, remembering Artix’s words about undead, and you swore you could see red eyes staring back at you. With a terrified squawk more fitting to a chicken (once again, you didn’t do creepy) you ran off after the paladin, hollering his name as if Sepulchure himself were after you.
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