Spirit Animals Oneshots

The Failed Mission

Well, Rollan and Meilin are trapped in a cell. Their assignment got overturned and everything was a complete bust. Yay!

TW: Just the usual. Blood, description of injury, and mildly suggestive (if you pick up on it).

< Rollan >

"Honestly I don't get it," Rollan stood up, gesturing to the cell around him. "I didn't murder anyone, so where's the justifiable cause?"

"We're not in for murder Rollan, we're here because you insist on blowing our cover." Meilin hissed. He could barely make out her face from past the bronze holding cell- but Rollan knew it held her infamous look of disappointment, a look he could recognize from a mile away.

He hesitated a moment before pointedly saying, "I don't remember doing that."

"Oh really, do you remember that we were being questioned?"

"No, not really." He lied.

"Well, we were because someone spoke out of turn." Meilin continued to glower at him, "you admitted that we were Greencloaks despite the whole point of this being to conceal our identities!!"

"Next time I'll be more cordial when someone suggests I'm a menace." What he really meant to say was... When someone suggested Greencloaks were a menace. 'The acclaimed heroes who do nothing but hinder society' was such a demeaning phrase to say. Rollan couldn't resist engaging. He had only known Greenhaven's love and protection, and would therefore infinitely defend it's honor.

"You are a menace, and now we can't finish our mission. So thanks." Meilin snapped. He could practically hear the unspoken words. If you would listen just once- if you had obeyed orders for once- we wouldn't be stuck in this mess.

Thanks to him, there was always a mess. He sighed, resting his head against the bars.

Meilin and Rollan had been assigned to infiltrate a Rebel outpost- with Conor's help. The two were decided a couple from Zhong, once under the control of Wyrm and in alliance with Zerif, their god. Which come to think of it was a very odd thing to believe. Conor showed up in the sickening place earlier on as a 'victim' of the Greencloaks' rage during those times.

And for a while, the threat of rebellious uproar sounded like a stupid joke being played on a gullible nation. One who couldn't discern reality in the slightest. Enough time showed these Rebels to be former associates of Gerathon, Zerif, the Wyrm... People who had accepted corruption as their life and Erdas' heroes as the enemies. Their mission had incorporated a careful search of what they were scheming, and just how ready the Greencloaks had to be for it. Conor was still roaming around, thankfully left unsuspected after Rollan's- outburst.

Meilin couldn't really blame him for what he did, not in his mind. Rollan wouldn't stand to hear the insinuation his family were a bunch of lowlife criminals when he'd experienced the fanfare of that life. Someone could say he was too much of a freedom fighter, or loved to know justice in all its forms... But that wasn't it. No, he simply wouldn't hide who he was anymore, and Rollan refused to watch a reputation the Greencloaks fought so hard for be dragged through the mud. It wasn't right.

Which brought them here, to a basement that looked- eerily similar to the orphanage. Maybe he was being difficult because it was messing with his mind, and the only reprieve was defiance. Or Rollan was hiding the panic well, hiding himself from Meilin even if he didn't mean to. Whether she read him well enough to see it, he was scared.

Rollan wouldn't apologize for what he did. He didn't regret it. But he did regret bringing Meilin into it, which meant he had to fix what he'd done. Rollan lifted his head, drawing his attention to the distant echo of footsteps and a grin spread across his lips. Perfect.