✍️ Write based on the line prompt above

Somehow N'arfi had managed to convince the old witch hunter to come with him on a smaller adventure. As usual, they were bickering back and forth with almost no end. It was a miracle that they weren't trying to stab each other to death with how often they were arguing. Or rather, Valnier had attempted to putting his rapier through N'arfi's teeth for speaking too much but the viera was too fast for the old man. Now he had reduced his murder attempts to empty threats and insults. N'arfi didn't mind though, in fact, he somehow found amusement in the fact that Valnier didn't seem to like him. Back home everyone knew him and therefor, people rarely held a grudge against him.

Back to the task at hand. On another one of his adventures, N'arfi had managed to get his hands on an old treasuremap and the two now found themselves in the high snowy mountains of the Coerthas Western Highlands. Valnier had already tried to shoot a dragon that was flying over the mountains, screaming "DREADFUL WYRM!" at it. The fool could have started another dragonsong war if that bullet had hit. N'arfi had scolded him, telling him that he didn't stop the war so that Valnier could be trigger happy. It also didn't help that Valnier couldn't understand dragonspeak so to him, it was just a series of different roars.

"I swear beast, we've walked past this rock before. Are you sure you're able to read treasuremaps or are you as bad at that as you are with math?" The old man scoffed. The cold air was surely going to make him sick again.

N'arfi stopped in his tracks, looked at Valnier and then the treasuremap. "Oh, no. I'm as clueless as you are." He said sheepishly, his ears turning down slightly. Valnier groaned, stumbled over to the viera and took a glance at the map, then took it from him and turned it 180 degrees. "You- stupid beast! You held it upside down this entire time?! You've lived here most of your life yet you can't recognise that you're holding the map wrong!" The viera had really tested his patience. They've been wandering around the cold climate for what felt like hours. Long enough for ice to form on his beard.

"I- honestly- I have no comeback for that one. I agree with you." N'arfi looked at the map again. "I know where it is now. It's over by the Twinpools, which means closer to the dragon's den. Please, don't try attacking another dragon, especially not this close to their home. I don't want to have Hraelsvelgr swooping down to bite your head off. It would be a really sad way to go." N'arfi noticed that the old man was getting tired of walking so he sighed before putting two fingers into his mouth and whistling a very specific tune. Valnier gave him a look of 'what is this idiot doing now?'. A few seconds later, a big blue chocobo can be seen running towards them, stopping in front of N'arfi to give him a head bonk. He gestured for the chocobo to stay put and kneel down to make it easier for Valnier to get on.

"She's not saddled to be a two seater right now so I suggest you get on before I regret my choice."

Emelda took the last sip of Coke from the paper cup with a relaxed sigh. "Sheesh," she shrugged as she tossed the cup onto the pavement below her. "Thanks for buying that for me, Hazel. It gets pretty hot out here in the su-"

"Aren't you supposed to recycle that?" Hazel interrupted. She turned to her friend and raised an eyebrow.

In response, Emelda blinked. "Uh..." she looked at the discarded cup lying idly on the ground. There was an awkward silence between the two, broken only by a laugh from the guilty litterer.

"I said recycle," Hazel rolled her eyes.

"Well, I don't know what that means."

The gardener tipped her hat. "Recycling means that you don't just...throw something away like that. It means you..." her tongue struggled with finding the right words, "turn it into something else. It's so that it doesn't go to waste."

"Here," Hazel continued, walking towards her friend's cup, picking it up, and handing it to her. "Why don't you go find a bin that says 'recycle' and put it in?"

Emelda observed the piece of trash as if it was a rare artifact. "So...they do turn it into something else with magic?"

Everything went quiet again. Hazel found herself laughing a little while shaking her head. "Not...exactly. The process is a little more complicated. All you need to know is that leaving your trash on the ground like that isn't something good for the environment."

"It's just a paper cup," the girl stared at it again.

"If everyone thinks like that, then this whole world is going to be filled with trash."

"Fair," Emelda started looking for a recycling bin. "Thanks for telling me."

-

prompts:

"Is that a shooting star?"
"Well, this hasn't happened in a while..."
"You need to hurry up!"

Compared to the person she was a few years ago, Xenia was doing much better - and that said a lot.

So many things had changed in what felt like a blink of an eye. She wasn't blanking out as much, didn't have as much trouble sleeping (save for a nightmare slipping through the cracks here and there), and had a better time controlling her breathing. Best of all, even her husband, Cephalus, was hopeful for her comeback from the strange illness she had been struggling through.

Though today? All of that would get flipped on its head.

The odd thing was, you wouldn't have expected it. Everything and everyone was acting normal. The sun was shining, families were out in the agora reciting endless verses of poetry, and the hamon clan had finished a round of harsh training in Octopus Garden.

So, naturally, Xenia and Cephalus were hungry. Not because they needed food - a skilled warrior could live off hamon alone - but they liked to think of the fine flavors of their favorite wines and soups as a good way to reward themselves for their hard work.

"You know what?" Xenia sighed, putting her hands together as she plopped down on the living room couch. "I think I should cook today."

For most places in Hellas, this would have been a stupid thing to say. The wife always cooked for the husband. However, this household had it backwards. Because of Xenia's odd illness keeping her away from anything involving heat, Cephalus often took over in the kitchen.

When he heard his wife's statement, the first thing he did was raise an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" He frowned. "You're not going to get hurt or anything doing this, are you?"

"Of course not," Xenia smiled.

After a long silence, Cephalus replied. "I'll take your word for it," he agreed. If Xenia overcame most of her past, chopping up ingredients and whipping up a simple dish would be a sinch. Right?

The couple had been minding their own business for around an hour. It was all quiet and still. So far, no problems.

If it weren't for the scream coming from the kitchen, dinner would have taken only thirty more minutes.

"XENIA!" Cephalus screamed, almost slipping as he barged into the room. His beloved wife was huddled in the corner, face huddled in her knees. She didn't seem to have trouble breathing, yet he could tell that there was a pile up of distress in her brain.

"Nononono," he whispered, kneeling down to his favorite person in the entire world. His unbroken stoic demeanor had been reduced to shambles. He couldn't produce any hamon like this. "Are you okay? Please, please-"

"Get away from me!" Xenia's head snapped at her husband. She had never gotten this angry before. It was strange and foreign, even to her. "I don't want to hurt you, but...but I feel like I am if you keep staying near me.

I was close to the fire," she pointed to the brick oven at the opposite end of the kitchen. "I...almost touched it, and it..." the words struggled to come out of her mouth as she lifted her hand towards Cephalus, revealing a nasty mark. "I'm never going to get over this. It's just going to keep haunting me."

"You did what?" Cephalus couldn't keep his mind straight. Shoot. Other than mindlessly ask questions, what was he going to do? Be honest and say "oh, we're back to where we started all those years ago and it's for nothing?" Give up hope and break down?

The man furrowed his brow, inching closer to his wife. He took her wound and, now calmer, produced a bit of hamon to heal the burn. He wished he could do the same and take a hand to Xenia's head to heal her, though things weren't that simple.

"I'm sorry," his lips straightened. He breathed in and looked his wife straight in the eye. He couldn't afford to say anymore. Though he knew that even if they had to start back at square one, it would be okay. They had each other. That's what mattered.

"I can't let that happen again," Eli shrugged. 

At that time I didn't understand what he meant. What that look in his eyes was and why I didn't recognise it? The man who I had known for years had shrunk under the face that he held to my eyes. Piercing. Sharper than a tiger and it's cold hard teeth. I would know. I gulped and put down the gifts that the audience had drowned me in. It worked more than I had dreamed against the better part of my judgement. I dirtied my conscience to hook the adoration of the American masses, fitting the narrative they had crafted up in their minds sculpted by TV and kung fu comedy. I could see it now, I had something Eli thought he hadn't. When I realised, it hurt more than anything. My mother, I could forgive her for those hateful eyes, but not him. 

"What?" I said. "You can't let me be better than you?" 

That face again. Nonchalant and cold. Like my words didn't bother him. He wanted it to hurt me. I wasn't an animal he could put down so he used his words, and it worked. 

“A demigod?” Luke softly asked. 

"Yep. You're the first I've met." Melanie answered without looking back. “But there’s no doubt you’re one.”

Luke frowned, but didn’t say anything. They stayed quiet for a couple of minutes, only hearing the sound of creaking branches as they walked over them. Small drops of rain started to hit his face as he followed Melanie up the mountain. 

“What do you mean?” Luke finally spoke, cautious. He was scared, but also curious. A thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Hm. It’s difficult to explain. I just know it.” She stopped and turned to face him, almost making Luke fall back. “There’s something in your eyes. It’s so clear.”

The boy fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze, wondering if that was the reason her mother made him wear contacts. He still looked unsure, and Melanie gave him a questioning smile.

“You are more sheltered than I thought. Well, lucky for you, I have plenty of books on demigods at my house.” She resumed her walk. “You’ll know what I mean. But we have to hurry, unless we wanna get caught in the storm.”