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English
Series:
Part 1 of Healing Out Loud
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Published:
2025-03-24
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2,391
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1/1
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I've decided we should be friends

Summary:

Quinn Hollis arrives at Basgiath War College, accompanied by her parents — and like any kid on their first day at college, her first act is to disregard her parents' advice: It's dangerous enough in the Quadrant even when you have no association to people marked with the rebellion relic.
But where's the fun in that?


Contains spoilers for Onyx Storm so check the notes for more details.

Notes:

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Happiest of birthdays, my dearest Sarah! I am a little early but... I like to steal the start. You are the most supportive, talented, lovely and funny person I know and I am so so happy and honored to have you in my life (best person to have as my Internet wife). I love you to the moon and to Saturn!
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ This is set in the same universe as another one of my fics ( Daylight ) so if you haven't read it yet, this is your sign to have a look.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ As I said in the summary, this fic is a selection of scenes that are relevant and illustrative for Imogen and Quinn's friendship, showing the strength of a bond that not even Malek is able to break.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ There will be three POVs - everything post-OS will be told from Quinn's POV (this first chapter included, but there will also be deep conversations, Jax, gossip, and Quinn being done with Imogen and Garrick's stupidity); events that are set shortly after the end of OS are going to be told from Garrick's perspective and the last scenes are set after Daylight and will be from Imogen's POV.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Shout-out to Siobhan for being the most amazing beta and to Alexis for taking notes during lectures so I could write this.

Work Text:

Dear reader,

What if I told you none of it was accidental?

 

“And make sure to make friends with your squad. They are not allowed to kill you, but it's important that you have someone in there who has your back,” my father, Colonel Cal Hollis, lectures as we make our way towards the gates of Basgiath War Collage. 

 

I've heard this speech so many times I could recite it from memory, but I don't interrupt my dad – after all, I won't hear from him for at least a year and with the reports coming from the border, the gryphon attacks have picked up again. He is a seasoned rider, he's seen his fair share of bloodbaths, but that doesn't mean I don't worry for him every time he is called in. 

 

“And pay attention to all your lessons,” my mother chimes in and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. 

 

“I somehow doubt the dragons will be impressed with my math skills, mom,” I point out when we stop by the gate. My parents are both high ranking officers in the Navarrian army and no one would bat an eye if they decided to cross the invisible threshold for family members, but this is something we've discussed – they would draw attention and the last thing I need is for everyone to know I am a legacy. The only special treatment that kind of attention would get me is an extra target on my back. 

 

My dad chuckles in response, but chooses not to comment – wise move, it spares him the exasperated look my mom levels on me. Although some of that exasperation might be directed at my appearance rather than my smart mouth. “But your professors will be and that brings you a step closer to getting promoted next year,” Captain Kaede Hollis points out, stepping behind me to try to pull my blonde curls into a tight bun like her own, even though it's too short for that. 

 

Nevermind that I don’t care about being in the chain of command… She will love hearing that as much as she likes my hair sticking out in every direction no matter how much she tries to tame it. 

 

“Did you pack everything?” My father asks, thankfully changing the subject. His dark green eyes shine with amusement when I shoot him a thankful look as I nod. “So, if I were to check your backpack right now I would find clothes, weapons and such… and no teddy bears?” 

 

“I'm not five anymore, dad!” I roll my eyes, acting as exasperated and offended as possible because Mr Fuzzy Wuzzy is most certainly in my backpack, ready to cross the Parapet with me. 

 

“There, that's… somewhat better,” Mom hums, stepping back to admire her work, which consists in an elaborate web of small braids that pull the strands at the front back neatly. My mother is the master of styling curly hair and she taught me to do it too, but I rarely have the patience for it – besides, I like my hair wild and messy, it suits me. “Now, Ninnie…” 

 

Before she can continue with another lecture – one of the thousands I have already listened to in the carriage on the way over here… and in the past year… and my whole life, really – her attention drifts to the registration table when the sound of crushed glass reaches us. A mountain of a guy with flaming red hair is towering over a scrawny boy who is barely half his size. I am already irritated by how he uses his size to intimidate the poor bastard when I notice the source of the sound from earlier – a pair of glasses, crushed under his boot. 

 

“Poor kid, they will eat him alive in there,” My mom sighs, , shaking her head, a note of finality in her tone as if she is already commending him to Malek. 

 

I catch a blur of movement, then, a second later, the big guy is on the ground. Standing above the bastard is a girl, not much taller than scrawny glass-boy herself, but what she lacks in physical strength she more than makes up for in attitude – her hair is dyed a vivid shade of pink, with one side shaved and the other ending above her collarbone and she has a nasty glare that holds the promise of violence, silently daring the bully to retaliate. Judging by the two knives stuck in the mud on either side of that bastard's face, she would have no problem delivering on that silent threat. She looks like fucking Dunne incarnated.

 

When she waves the other boy off, I notice the black lines swirling up her arm. The same kind of tattoo I see on the skin of the boy she stepped in to protect. 

 

“Rebellion relics,” My father explains, picking on my curiosity. “Their parents must have been involved in the Tyrrish Rebellion a few years ago.” 

 

I frown. I've heard about the rebellion relics, everyone has, but it's the first time I've actually seen one. When my teachers first told us about the rebellion led by Fen Riorson, I remember thinking how unfair it was that the children of the high officers had to be marked like that, like cattle. Now I realise my assumption was not far off – those dark lines on their arms make them walking fucking targets. We are not even in the Quadrant yet and people are already picking on them! 

 

“That girl might have a chance,” My mother ponders, but then she shakes her head. “Poor kids, they did nothing wrong.” 

 

It's better than the alternative, I think. Their parents were executed by dragonfire, after all. 

 

“Keep your distance from them as much as possible, Ninnie.” My mom turns to me, her eyes serious as she puts her hand on my shoulder. “It's dangerous enough in there without making friends like them.” 

 

I know they have good intentions and they want the best for me, so, even though I disagree, I choose to change the subject. It's the last time I get to talk to them for a long while and it's not the time for an argument. Not that I would be able to argue much with the way my throat closes off and my eyes start to sting. 

 

“Oh sweetheart,” My mom sighs, wrapping her arms around me tightly. 

 

So much for a tearless goodbye…

 

̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

 

The conflict from earlier seems to have settled for a while as the cadets responsible with registration kept everyone in line long enough to get the needed signatures and have us out of their hair. I am not naive enough to believe that the big guy from earlier forgot so easily about the earlier humiliation, he will surely show his face again (if he survives the Parapet, which I hope doesn't happen), but for now he is nowhere in sight. 

 

However, the girl with pink hair is right in front of me in line as we climb the turret to the Parapet. And it's not that I forgot my parents’ advice from less than twenty minutes ago – it's just that I never intended to follow it. 

 

So I quicken the pace to catch up with the marked girl and, once I get into step with her, I extend my hand, “Hi! I'm Quinn Hollis. I've decided we should be friends,” I announce, giving her a wide grin. 

 

She raises an eyebrow at me, her green eyes looking me over, hesitant to shake my hand. Can't fault her for the guarded look – a random girl bounces on you and announces you are to be friends, right after you caused a scene by taking down a mountain in human form in the College courtyard. Not exactly something that inspires trust. 

 

But I know I am winning her over. She hasn't walked away or thrown a knife at my head, so that’s a good sign, and I can’t stop myself from grinning when she says, “You do realize we’re about to cross the walkway of death.”

 

Yeah, that might put a damper on our blossoming friendship… but I am not going to let that discourage me. Out of everyone I’ve seen in that courtyard, she is the only person I can see myself being friends with — the whys are still unclear, but there is no doubt in my mind that she is the kind of person I would like to have around, as a friend. “Well, then it might be a short friendship, but we’ll make it a good one.” 

 

She still regards me with uncertainty, but I don't fail to notice the small twitch in the corner of her lips. She is warming up to me alright. “Out of everyone in this forsaken mess of a place, you chose me as your friend? You must be the craziest person here and that says something because I consider everyone who chose to enroll in this hell fucking nuts.” 

 

I notice that we are already halfway up the turret and that means I have less time to convince my new best friend of my good intentions and even I don't know what exactly pulls me to her. I don’t even know her name! 

 

She has a rebellion relic, which is a fucking guarantee that people will try to take her down every chance they get, so it's a risky friendship. She is gorgeous, but I don't feel that tingling of excitement that I usually get when I am attracted to a girl – it's a different kind of tingling, that has nothing to do with romance or sex. I guess the way she stood up for the underdog earlier could be a reason for me to like her – I've been the underdog growing up, after all. 

 

However, I still feel like it's something deeper than that, something I can't quite put my finger on. I know nothing about her, but I am sure that I was meant to meet her, that she was meant to be in my life. 

 

“You will think I am mental,” I preface my explanation, choosing to ignore her raised eyebrow that basically says ‘already kind of do’. “Do you believe in fate?” 

 

Her steps falter and she looks at me as if I'd grown a second and then a third head. “Are you fucking serious?” I nod in response and she then does something unexpected – she bursts into laughter. A rich, melodious laugh, completely unguarded because I took her by surprise. “Let me guess, you actually believe in the ‘everything happens for a reason’ bullshit?” 

 

I shrug. “Not really. Or not exactly. I don’t think everything happens for a reason, but I do believe that some things are meant to be, like right now. I have no idea what it is about you, pink stranger, but I just know something pulls me to you and, honestly, it's fun to talk to you, so… you are stuck with me from now on.” 

 

The way her eyes narrow on me makes me think of the truth-sayers, as if she is trying to shift through my words, to separate the truth from the lies, even though I know she doesn’t even have a signet yet. Then her face relaxes slightly and she gives me a curt nod, “Let’s get to the other side of this death trap and we’ll see about it,” She relents, just as we reach the top of the landing. 

 

“We might die, as you said,” I point out with a cheeky smirk. “May I know your name, new best friend?” 

 

She gives me an amused smile as if to say ‘You will get it soon enough’ before she turns around and marches to the table where the older cadets are waiting with the list. “Imogen Ilaria Cardulo,” She introduces herself, glaring right back when the rider who was supposed to write down her name stares at the dark lines on her arm with undisguised hatred — and I admire her even more for not cowering or trying to cover up the rebellion relic, for holding her head up high even when she is faced with adversity. 

 

The rider scowles at her, obviously not a fan of her attitude, but she pays him no mind. Once she makes sure her name is on the list, she turns her back on him, straightening her back and rechecking the straps of her backpack with a confidence I myself can’t fathom right now — the pressure that I have been ignoring since the written examination is finally making itself known; I am truly about to cross the Parapet and become a rider, like my parents and almost everyone in my family — or die trying. 

 

If Imogen is feeling anything like that, she doesn’t let it show. I know that the marked ones are forced to enroll in the Rider’s Quadrant and I can’t even imagine the pressure and dread that all of them live with, knowing they are constantly watched, that people are waiting for them to make a wrong turn and fail. If I am being honest with myself, I doubt I would be able to shoulder all that, to live like that. 

 

Imogen turns to look at me once again before she steps on the Parapet, a playful smirk dancing on her lips — how can she even smile right now is beyond me! “I’d better see you on the other side, Quinn Hollis. I’d hate for this friendship to end before it even began.” 

 

In spite of my anxiety, I find myself smiling at her words. I am still scared shitless and my heart beats in my chest like a wardrum, but I am smiling because, until now, the only reasons I had to become a rider were the excitement, the sense of adventure and the power to actually make a difference (maybe, also because a not exactly small part of me wants to make my family proud). All good reasons, but just a tad bit too idealistic. Now I have a friend I want to meet (something that I didn’t really have before now, if I’m being honest) and the only thing standing in my way is a narrow bridge. “You are not getting rid of me that easily, Cardulo. See you in a bit.”

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