#and i also copied the domed roof from one of the builds for this one as well so that's kind of important to mention i think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sinsofbeauty · 1 year

Text

A Midnight Encounter

Fandom: COD MWll

Pairings: Jealous! Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Requested: Nope :3

Warnings: Jealousy, Soap giving you nicknames, Mild possession, SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, Dom! Ghost, fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting, choking/breath play, spanking, daddy kink, degradation

Overview: A brief encounter with your superior Soap gets Ghost on edge. Couple of drinks down the hatch and a late night after a mission, turns into something much more heated than your intentions.

A large party blooming with life, and a night that would be one to remember. Undercover, you and Soap had been infiltrating a large mansion for some intel on a lead. The both of you had to pose as a couple, not exactly husband and wife but something “long term.” It was a masquerade party, so faces were hard to see under the masks that covers half of peoples faces. So you and Soap had sat at a round table, across from each other that way eyes were also behind.

“Ghost, what’s your status?”

You and Soap exchanged a quick glance after Price spoke on the comms. It was now all about timing and patience as the first phase will proceed.

“Gettin’ there,” Replied the Lieutenant, who’s checkpoint was to make it on the roof. “No hostiles on the rooftops, closing into position.”

The glass dome over the ballroom had lights around the rim and provided a glimpse of the night sky. With all the commotion, no one would have anticipated someone being up there, but of course you and Soap knew.

“I’m in position, over.”

Looking up, you notice the glare of Ghost's silenced firearm. The ceiling in this area of the structure was quite high, making a sniper with an excellent view likely. You turn to face Soap, who was chatting with you and seems to be having fun as you scouted the area. Price and Daz were sneaking inside the building as this was going on.

“Fox, there’s a door south east to your location.” You heard Ghost speak through your comms. “I can’t get a visual, do you see anything?”

Your eyes transitioned to look at the door, in which had just opened. “Copy Ghost. It just opened.”

“What is there?”

You observed three men leave, two of whom were real close to the third. Those who had encountered the one in the middle, were greeted and left shortly after. It didn't take you long to realize that he was the mansion's owner. Not as quickly, but at a steady enough pace to make your heart race, the man began to walk over to where you and Soap had been sitting.

“Three men in total, one is probably the party host. Seems to have a lot of friendly gestures from guests.” You replied, keeping your eyes on Soap. “The other two are probably guards, they look too alert to be friends or close company.”

“Copy that.”

Upon taking a deep breath, Soap looked back at you after casting a quick glance over his shoulder. Phase two had begun, and the man in front of you had quickly stood up and left without saying anything else. There you were left alone, with Ghost watching as the man of the house approached your table. You had a drink in hand at this point, lifting it to your lips as the three men had came to your table. They all were tall, staring down at you while you set your drink back down on the elegant cloth of the table.

“Good evening. It is my pleasure to welcome you, even though it’s well into the party.”

You gave a genuine smile nodding your head in appreciation. “Of course, it is my pleasure to attend such an extravagant event.”

The man smiled, raising a hand to shoo off the men who had stood closely behind him. With that, the owner of the mansion had taken a seat in the spot Soap had been sitting across from you. Now, it’s showtime.

“Target right on queue,” You heard Ghost speak quietly in your ear.

“Rog. Soap what’s your status.” Price then speaks.

“Oscar mike. The halls are quiet, no sign of hostile activity.”

As you struck up a discussion with the man, you positioned your arms beneath the table. You kept the target distracted so that the men in your ear could continue discussing the objective. Though the longer you stayed, the harder it became, anxiety in the pit of your stomach turning into discomfort. Your face was trying to hide the uncomfortable sensation you were stifling within, while your hands were fidgeting under the table.

“Found something,” Soap was heard on the mic.

Oh thank god.

“A file and a usb. Talks about everything we’re looking for. There’s also a map to what looks like a part of Southeast Asia.”

“Rog on that. Execute phase three, we’re getting the hell outta ‘ere.”

Perfect. As soon as the man in front of you laughed—not at what he said, but at what you had just heard—you started to smile widely. In an effort to attract his attention, you laid the drink that you had just finished sipping on the table.

“I apologize for interrupting, but I must go the bathroom. Would you kindly inform me where it is?” You smiled innocently at the ignorant man who had only given you a lusty glance in response to your politeness.

“Why of course, it’ll be down over there by that entryway. Immediately take a left and you shall see.” The man leaned in and set a hand on yours, lifting it into his before planting a firm kiss on our knuckles. “Please do return, I absolutely love your company my dear.”

“Of course, I won’t take long.” You said with a wink.

He let go of your hand out of amusement and allowed you to stand up. You had moved carefully past other guests while saying excuse me, walking in the direction he had instructed you to go. Finally, you reached the entryway and turned left.

“Ghost, Fox, we got the intel. All we need is you two out of there, copy?”

“Roger. Oscar mike and out in five.” Ghost spoke.

Shortly after taking your heels in hand and moving quickly down the corridor, you adjusted your earpiece and pulled your hair back into a ponytail. It was pitch black, with hardly any lights, dull, and somewhat difficult to see. But it didn't stop there; noise down the hallway forced you to pause, and you eventually found your way into what appeared to be a dining hall.

“Fox? Do you copy?”

Once more, Price's voice echoed in your ear. As you attempted to hold your breath due to your heavy breathing, you could feel your heart beating rapidly. The voices approached the door before stopping, speaking in a language you couldn't comprehend. It was unfamiliar, like something Arabic or a comparable dialect. It was difficult to determine if they were guards or other guests from the party.

“Fox?”

Your ears were straining to focus on the language being spoken from behind the door when you faintly heard the Captain's voice again. They then shifted to using English at that point. You became aware that you had been gone for a while when they radioed about a girl who matched your identical description. Both the party host and the security were looking for you.

“Fox talk to us.”

Your attention was drawn to the comms again, hearing Soap when he called you. The people behind the door jogged off making you take a deep breath. “I copy,” You sigh with relief into the comms. “I ran into a couple of guards, had to hide for a bit.”

“Had me worried there baby girl.” Soap chuckled into the mic making you snort with a head shake.

“I can clearly take care of myself.” You replied, looking out the door to see if the coast was clear. “I’m right near the exit, better have those vehicles ready.”

“Just waiting for you doll.”

“Enough with the flirting you two.” Price scolded in your ear. “Just get your ass outside Fox.”

“Copy,” You couldn’t help but cackle at the nicknames as you finally made it through.

You took a moment to locate the spot where you and Ghost would meet as you snuck through the grass next to the structure. Price would have joined Gaz by this point, and Soap would be going towards the other car. That moment did eventually arrive, and you met Ghost at the predetermined location.

“We have a change of plans,” Price called out through the comms. “There were too many guards in the area for Soap to make it to Bravo’s vehicle. He’s coming with us, copy?”

“Roger that sir,” Ghost took one fine look at you and huffed, taking one final survey through the night vision goggles.

Both of you made your way to the vehicle, in which you both hopped in as soon as you saw it. Ghost in the driver’s seat, while you in the passengers. The vehicle vroomed with life before the masked male driven off, making it on the dirt road that lead to the exit of the mansions perimeters. Once off, you had clasped your hands together with glee. Your first undercover mission that didn’t involve shooting people, what a success!

“Oh that was amazing! Never had so much fun being fake.” You giggled out, causing Ghost to grunt at your comment. “I’m glad I didn’t get caught. That would’ve been a disaster in itself. Though, the people I was hiding from spoke another language. I think Arabic? Something of the sort.”

When there was silence, you turned to face Ghost, who had his hand firmly on the wheel and was glaring at the road. Although you couldn't see his face, the silence and the growing tension within the car left you puzzled.

“Is something wrong?”

Before he could answer he swerved on the side of the road, making you jolt in your seat as the car had vigorously jerked into a bunch of uneven grass behind a couple of trees and rocks. You looked at him in shock as he parked the car, turning off the engine and even the lights for concealment.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You exclaimed adjusting yourself back in your seat correctly.

Ghost had looked over, his eyes staring at you with a deep glare. It was intense, cold, and made you freeze in place as you stared at him innocently. The way that his eyes looked so menacing, deadly, made you heat up in more places than just your cheeks.

“Get out of the fuckin’ car.”

“What?”

There was silence in the air, before you watched as he opened the door and got out. He was dead serious about this one. You got out yourself, not minding that your bare feet were on the grass let alone the stockings that matched your skin tone. The sound of Ghost slamming his door made you jump, and watch him walk around the head of the car. With that, you closed your door, but by the time you turned around he was right in front of you.

“Baby girl? Doll?” His voice rang deep within the quiet atmosphere of nature.

Oh…shit. That’s what he was upset about. Let’s just say, you and Ghost have more of a Lieutenant/Sergeant relationship outside of what people see in uniform. It’s been going on for a short time, but still. Simon was very protective of what was his.

“He’s called me that before.” You replied shaking your head. “It’s nothing serious and you know that.”

“I still don’t fucking like it,” He snarled, making your heart practically leap out of your chest. He was dangerously close to you, his mask practically inches from your face. “And on top of that, that man at the party. Putting his fuckin’ hands on you.”

“I had to play my part Simon,” You looked away from him. “Jeez if I knew you would be this jealous-“

You were cut off by a gloved hand taking your chin, yanking it back to look at him. The heat between your legs had been shown in an instant, your thighs pressing together as you whimpered helplessly under the taller man.

“Jealous, is an understatement.” Ghost growled. His eyes looked fiercely down at you, half lidded and hungry for more than what you expected.

“G-Ghost,” You stutter, arousal forming under a nervous expression. “We’re still on a mission, shouldn’t we get back to base?”

The eerie silence of the night crept over, until Ghost took his other hand to his radio. “Captain, we’ve run into a little problem.”

It took a few moments for a response. “What’s your status Lieutenant?”

“There are guards along the border. I don’t see an exit without being seen.” The silence took over, making your raise your brows at what Simon was trying to do.

“Copy that. Stay low until an entry point is sealed. We’ll keep a lookout for any signs of activity.”

“Copy, over and out.”

His eyes, which were malicious and filled with significantly more than what you had previously seen, peered at you from the radio. Ghost had slid his hand that was on your chin over your neck, taking it with a firm squeeze. You gasped only slightly when he used his body to pin you against the car door.

“You wanna be sly, little fox?” His voice was purely filled with his British accent, making you shiver and put your hands on his wrist. In that moment, you had realized why he had lied to Price on the radio. He was buying time.

“Turn around.”

That was a voice you heard many times before. It was the part of Ghost only you have seen out of the members of Task 141. The one that would either fuck you into oblivion, or make you cream so much that not even god could stifle your pitiful screams.

Without a word you turned around, the back of your tightly fitted dress giving Ghost a perfect view of your ass. He grunted, and a heavy slap was planted on your right cheek. You gasped out since it was so unexpected, abdomen clenching tight as his gloved hand let another rip at your other cheek.

“Lemme tell you something sweet girl,” Ghost spoke out of pure lust and sexual tension. “This ass, belongs to me.”

Another hit to your cheek made you grit your teeth, and with another he slapped considerably harder. Tears began to brim at the corner of your eyes, and when he had abused your ass for the last time you couldn’t help but moan out.

He noticed this, a hum making him bend down with his masked mouth next to your ear. “Enjoying yourself, baby girl?”

You didn’t respond, instead you squeezed your eyes shut on how he mocked Soap’s words. Fuck was he good. In an instant you felt the back of your short dress being lifted up, the cold air of your red ass being exposed to the night.

“No panties,” Ghost stated from behind you, as you felt fingers on your stockings. A quiet rip was heard, letting you know that he tore that shit with one easy grip of his hands. “We’re you expecting to get fucked tonight Princess?”

You let out a shakey “no”, but Ghost didn’t believe that. After a night looking like this, so vulnerable, so fucking sexy, damn that was his plan. But of course, he had something else in mind.

“Don’t lie to me,” He said, taking a moment to remove his gloves off of his hands. He tossed them to the ground and moved one of his hands to the front of your dress, cupping your breast.

“I-I’m not lying.” You spoke, opening your eyes at his motion. “I was just..dressing up for the occasion.”

When you felt two fingers on your slicked pussy lips, your breath caught, and your reaction alone caused him to groan. You couldn't hide the fact that you were a mess, due to how wet you were between those adorable thighs of yours.

“Look at how wet you are. Just for me, and only me. Isn’t that right, doll?”

Arousal was clearly visible as skin became flushed, thighs beautifully moist, and your nipples puckered into hard buds. It was hard to swallow, let alone breath without it being filled with lust. In spite of your best efforts to balance yourself on the car with your hands, you eventually lost and melted under Ghost's control. When his fingers made their way to your clit, you exhaled loudly and whimpered as he rubbed in slow, agonizing circles. You moaned, not satisfied with the speed at hand. You wanted more, fuck.

“I can’t quite hear you. Is my little slut wet for daddy~?”

“Fuck Ghost!” You groaned out, head hitting the glass of the passenger window. “Y-Yes, I’m so wet for you…”

Without warning he dips his two fingers in your throbbing cunt, making you almost scream out with pleasure. You tighten around him almost immediately, making him groan sharply while he abuses your sweet sex over and over. He knew the right places, curling his fingers, making you tremble.

“Such a tight little cunt baby.” He purrs, the speed of his fingers fucking you in an unrelenting pace. “Just seeing you in this dress makes my cock ache. I couldn’t help thinking about fucking you while I watched from the roof.”

His hand that had been massaging your breasts came up to your neck, taking it with a strong hold. Your airways had been blocked, making it hard to focus while his fingers pumped inside you. As soon as you felt lightheaded, he slowed his pace before releasing his grip, allowing you to breath for the time being. Taking himself out from your tight hole, he used his two fingers covered from wet juices of your cunt to spread your folds open.

“You look so fucking cute,” He breaths, not being able to help his own heavy, staggered breaths. “I could just fuck you right here.”

Before you could say a word, his fingers sunk back into you. You jolted with pleasure, stomach tightening, thrust after thrust of his fingers repeatedly flicking up at your special spot. You moaned out, whined, and writhed beneath his body, the pleasure making your legs wobble numb. Your climax was close to bursting, Ghost taking your neck once more and cutting of your air supply.

“Fuck baby,” Ghost grunts out. “You’re clenching hard on my fingers, gonna cum already?”

As you closed your eyes you let out a choked groan, feeling yourself on the brink of pure bliss. Although you wished it was his huge cock sensuously rubbing your walls, he was using his fingers quite well. Ghost quickly withdrew himself from your cunt, releasing his hold on your neck which caused you to take a deep breath. Your clit was yearning for attention, and you were twitching in desperation. He pulled your head up to gaze at him just as you were about to approach orgasm, causing your back to arch away from his body.

“Don’t you fucking come.” He commanded.

“B-But I-Im-“

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He grabbed your hands from being able to touch yourself.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, holding back your orgasm as you were told. For fuck sake, why did he stop?! It was so fucking good “Please,” You beg, shaking your hips in desperation. “Please, please fuck me please!”

Ghost gave you a firm slap to your ass, making you flinch with a whine. “This is your punishment for flirting like a little whore.”

“But I wasn’t-“

SLAP!

You moaned out, legs about ready to give out under you. “Fuuuck~!”

“Has anyone been able to pleasure you like this?”

Your eyes stay closed, not being able to look at him. “N-No.”

“No what?”

You felt his finger back at your slit, massaging and running up and down your creamy hole with ease. Your breath halted, swallowing hard at the feeling. “No, sir. Only you.”

“That’s right princess,” He spoke deeply, making sure your clit got some attention. “Open your fucking eyes.”

You do as your told, opening them as you stared right into his. His fingers plunged into your pussy again, a moan escaping the pit of your throat.

“You wanna come?”

“Yes sir.” You say weakly.

His fingers pump into you, slow and steady as your tight cunt clenched around him once more. You couldn’t help but close your eyes, but as soon as you did he stopped. “Keep your fucking eyes on me.”

Your eyes shot open, and his lowered into a glare. His fingers began to fuck you again, only this time at the pace he was doing before. You yelped out, unable to control your helpless cries as his fingers made your abdomen clench for release.

“Does my dirty little slut wanna come for me? Does she wanna fucking come all over daddy’s fingers?”

“Yes! Yes please!!”

“What do you say doll?”

“Please Ghost! Pleasepleaseplease I wanna come so bad!!!” You pleaded, your climax reaching faster than it did before. “Ahh~ Simon, I wanna-“

“Fucking come for me baby~.”

With that, you climax consumes you. Your inner walls spasm, making Ghost grunt out and grab your hip with his free hand. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, fingers curling harshly into your tight walls as you scream out in ecstasy. Your legs shake finding yourself being overstimulated to the brink of coming again.

“Si- mon- fuck!- aha mmhn~!!”

The squelching of his thick fingers in your pussy was soon interrupted by the sound of liquid gushing out. Onto the floor, on your stockings, on his pants it went, squirting until Ghost stopped, pulling his fingers out and rubbing your slit gently.

“Good fucking girl.”

You panted, letting your head fall and your body hunch into a weak position against the car. Ghost removed his hand from your pussy and held onto you, seeing that you practically had no balance left over. Your stockings had been soaked on the inside, from your slick cunt to your thighs. Ghost pulled your dress down and pulled you away from the door, opening it and picking you up to set you inside.

“I can handle myself.” You said because of his actions.

“I know, you handled me pretty well Princess.”

You puckered your lips as he set you down in your seat, closing the door and walking back to the other side. He hopped in as if nothing happened, turning on his radio.

“Captain, do you copy?”

A couple moment of silence later and Price responded, “Affirmative. Any changes?”

“Oscar Mike and off the radar, we should be home soon.

Ghost turned off his radio, turning on the car and soon driving away back on the road. One hand stayed on the wheel, the other, which was the one he mercilessly fucked you with stayed on his crotch. Man did you wish he railed you, made you fucking come undone over and over again like last time. You looked at him, head titling to the side in a tired stare.

“If I knew you would be like that over a couple of nicknames…I would have let it slide a lot sooner.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost huffed, simply out of amusement. “You really wanna piss me off don’t you?”

“Why not? You fuck me anyways.”

“I won’t be nice the next time it happens. You can trust me on that love.”

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost cod #ghost smut #cod smut #simon riley x reader

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vivacissimx · 8 months

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Heyy hope you're well. Ignore this if you want but I'm curious, do you believe in the Maester Conspiracy?

Let me take this step by step. Long post incoming but you asked, so:

WELCOME TO VIVACISSIMX'S CONCLUSIVE POST ON THE MAESTER CONSPIRACY!!!

The Maester Conspiracy is the theory that the maesters of the citadel work in concert with one another to effect certain political ends in line with their longstanding designs for Westeros — including a specific aim to hamper the existence/return of magic via living dragons.

The only dragontamers during the times of Fire & Blood and ASOIAF are Targaryens, so it ties together as: the maesters have sought to limit/manipulate/end Targaryen rule because they are anti-magic for reasons known best to them.

Do I believe in this? Textually it's pretty clear that this phenomenon exists.

FIRST: REASONS THE MAESTER CONSPIRACY IS DEFINITELY ACTUALLY FACTUALLY REAL

ONE: Multiple characters from different backgrounds tell us so.

Pycelle’s breathing was rapid and shallow. “All I did, I did for House Lannister.” A sheen of sweat covered the broad dome of the old man’s brow, and wisps of white hair clung to his wrinkled skin. “Always.. for years... your lord father, ask him, I was ever his true servant... ’twas I who bid Aerys open his gates... ” That took Tyrion by surprise. He had been no more than an ugly boy at Casterly Rock when the city fell. “So the Sack of King’s Landing was your work as well?” “For the realm! Once Rhaegar died, the war was done. Aerys was mad, Viserys too young, Prince Aegon a babe at the breast, but the realm needed a king... I prayed it should be your good father, but Robert was too strong, and Lord Stark moved too swiftly... ” “How many have you betrayed, I wonder? Aerys, Eddard Stark, me... King Robert as well? Lord Arryn, Prince Rhaegar? Where does it begin, Pycelle?”

—ACOK, Tyrion VI + emphasis mine

[Archmaester] Marywn smiled a ghastly smile, the juice of the sourleaf running red between his teeth. “Who do you think killed all the dragons the last time around? Gallant dragonslayers armed with swords?” He spat. “The world the Citadel is building has no place in it for sorcery or prophecy or glass candles, much less for dragons. Ask yourself why Aemon Targaryen was allowed to waste his life upon the Wall, when by rights he should have been raised to archmaester. His blood was why. He could not be trusted. No more than I can.”

—AFFC, Samwell V

Why can't Archmaester Marwyn be trusted? Since it's the same reason Aemon can't be trusted?

"Archmaester Marwyn's Book of Lost Books." [Rodrik Harlaw] lifted his gaze from the page to study her. "Hotho brought me a copy from Oldtown. He has a daughter he would have me wed." Lord Rodrik tapped the book with a long nail. "See here? Marwyn claims to have found three pages of Signs and Portents, visions written down by the maiden daughter of Aenar Targaryen before the Doom came to Valyria.

—AFFC, The Kraken's Daughter

His interest in Targaryen prophecy, perhaps? (Aemon is also seen to have said interest, corresponding with Rhaegar Targaryen on the matter.)

[Barbrey Ryswell:] "[Maesters] heal, yes. I never said they were not subtle. They tend to us when we are sick and injured, or distraught over the illness of a parent or a child. Whenever we are weakest and most vulnerable, there they are. Sometimes they heal us, and we are duly grateful. When they fail, they console us in our grief, and we are grateful for that as well. Out of gratitude we give them a place beneath our roof and make them privy to all our shames and secrets, a part of every council. And before too long, the ruler has become the ruled. "That was how it was with Lord Rickard Stark. Maester Walys was his grey rat's name. And isn't it clever how the maesters go by only one name, even those who had two when they first arrived at the Citadel? That way we cannot know who they truly are or where they come from… but if you are dogged enough, you can still find out. Before he forged his chain, Maester Walys had been known as Walys Flowers. Flowers, Hill, Rivers, Snow… we give such names to baseborn children to mark them for what they are, but they are always quick to shed them. Walys Flowers had a Hightower girl for a mother… and an archmaester of the Citadel for a father, it was rumored. The grey rats are not as chaste as they would have us believe. Oldtown maesters are the worst of all. Once he forged his chain, his secret father and his friends wasted no time dispatching him to Winterfell to fill Lord Rickard's ears with poisoned words as sweet as honey. The Tully marriage was his notion, never doubt it, he—"

—ADWD, The Prince of Winterfell

Please note these quotes touch on some of the largest political shifts to occur in Westeros. From germinating the idea of alliances between Great Houses in the mind of Rickard Stark who later betrothed/fostered his children to the Arryns of the Vale, the Tullys of the Riverlands, and the Baratheons of the Stormlands; to the Sack of King's Landing; to the circumstances around the Great Council that named Aegon V the Unlikely as king. I am not saying the Citadel was the sole mastermind behind all of these events, or even that maesters all act as one without their own interests/personalities guiding them... but more on that later.

TWO: The Glass Candle test.

Glass candles are obsidian—dragonglass— candles that apparently only burn when magic (see: dragons) exists in the world. Daenerys Targaryen has been hearing about these glass candles for a while now.

Xaro looked troubled. "And so it was, then. But now? I am less certain. It is said that the glass candles are burning in the house of Urrathon Night-Walker, that have not burned in a hundred years. Ghost grass grows in the Garden of Gehane, phantom tortoises have been seen carrying messages between the windowless houses on Warlock's Way, and all the rats in the city are chewing off their tails.

—ACOK, Daenerys V

Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal."

—ADWD, Daenerys II

Read: What Quaithe tells Daenerys here is that because the glass candles are burning, people (powerful, dangerous, with their own designs in mind) are becoming aware of her dragons. It means they're coming and Daenerys needs to be cautious of them.

And who is watching the glass candles?

Armen the Acolyte cleared his throat. “The night before an acolyte says his vows, he must stand a vigil in the vault. No lantern is permitted him, no torch, no lamp, no taper… only a candle of obsidian. He must spend the night in darkness, unless he can light that candle. Some will try. The foolish and the stubborn, those who have made a study of these so-called higher mysteries. Often they cut their fingers, for the ridges on the candles are said to be as sharp as razors. Then, with bloody hands, they must wait upon the dawn, brooding on their failure. Wiser men simply go to sleep, or spend their night in prayer, but every year there are always a few who must try.” “Yes.” Pate had heard the same stories. “But what’s the use of a candle that casts no light?” “It is a lesson,” Armen said, “the last lesson we must learn before we don our maester’s chains.

—AFFC, Prologue (Pate)

So, the Citadel has this tradition that every single guy ever to graduate from their school has to at least be aware of the glass candles, which basically serves the purpose of letting them know whether or not there are dragons in the world. Okay, fine, it's a lesson on failure, sure. What's interesting is that this mystical and compelling lesson on failure can only be as old as the death of the last dragon in 153 AC, otherwise they'd all be able to light the candles. So it began at most 147 years ago.

Notably, for years after the death of the last dragon, various Targaryens attempted to hatch more.

So what is the true purpose of the Glass Candle test? Why would the Citadel have a convenient means of knowing immediately if a new dragon was hatched/magic was returning, despite ostensibly having a Grand Maester on every single Targaryen King's Small Council ever?

What was their investment?

THREE: It aligns with the actions/beliefs of the maesters we see on-page.

Old Cressen might be, yet he was still a maester of the Citadel. “I need no crown but truth,” he told her, removing the fool’s helm from his head. “There are truths in this world that are not taught at Oldtown.” [...] As he sank to his knees, still he shook his head, denying [Melisandre], denying her power, denying her magic, denying her god. And the cowbells peeled in his antlers, singing fool, fool, fool while the red woman looked down on him in pity, the candle flames dancing in her red red eyes.

—ACOK, Prologue (Maester Cressen)

[Maester Luwin:] "Perhaps magic was once a mighty force in the world, but no longer. What little remains is no more than the wisp of smoke that lingers in the air after a great fire has burned out, and even that is fading. Valyria was the last ember, and Valyria is gone. The dragons are no more, the giants are dead, the children of the forest forgotten with all their lore.

—ACOK, Bran IV

Note: Maester Luwin actually has a Valyrian Steel chain and has attempted to do magic but by the end of his Citadel studies, he no longer believed in such. Due to his own failure to harness it, yes, but perhaps also due to his teachings under the archmaesters at the time.

Alleras stepped up next to Sam. "Aemon would have gone to [Daenerys] if he had the strength. He wanted us to send a maester to her, to counsel her and protect her and fetch her safely home." "Did he?" Archmaester Marwyn shrugged. "Perhaps it's good that he died before he got to Oldtown. Elsewise the grey sheep might have had to kill him, and that would have made the poor old dears wring their wrinkled hands."

—AFFC, Samwell V

FOUR: Citadel Maesters are super into dragons in general, perhaps a bit too into them, you be the judge.

In what place, if any, has there been an accumulation of dragonlore? Valyria. The Citadel. Dragonstone. Probably some of the Free Cities as well. Maybe Asshai in the far east.

—So Spake Martin, May 2000 (the Citadel clocking in at #2, technically #1, considering RIPValyria)

[H]e brushed the dirt off Colloquo Votar's Jade Compendium, a thick volume of tales and legends from the east that Maester Aemon had commanded him to find. The book appeared undamaged. Maester Thomax's Dragonkin, Being a History of House Targaryen from Exile to Apotheosis, with a Consideration of the Life and Death of Dragons had not been so fortunate. It had come open as it fell, and a few pages had gotten muddy, including one with a rather nice picture of Balerion the Black Dread done in colored inks. Sam cursed himself for a clumsy oaf

—AFFC, Samwell I

Tyrion had read much and more of dragons through the years. The greater part of those accounts were idle tales and could not be relied on, and the books that Illyrio had provided them were not the ones he might have wished for. What he really wanted was the complete text of The Fires of the Freehold, Galendro's history of Valyria. No complete copy was known to Westeros, however; even the Citadel's lacked twenty-seven scrolls. They must have a library in Old Volantis, surely. I may find a better copy there, if I can find a way inside the Black Walls to the city's heart.

He was less hopeful concerning Septon Barth’s Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History. Barth had been a blacksmith’s son who rose to be King’s Hand during the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. His enemies always claimed he was more sorcerer than septon. Baelor the Blessed had ordered all Barth’s writings destroyed when he came to the Iron Throne. Ten years ago, Tyrion had read a fragment of Unnatural History that had eluded the Blessed Baelor, but he doubted that any of Barth’s work had found its way across the narrow sea. And of course there was even less chance of his coming on the fragmentary, anonymous, blood-soaked tome sometimes called Blood and Fire and sometimes The Death of Dragons, the only surviving copy of which was supposedly hidden away in a locked vault beneath the Citadel.

When the Halfmaester appeared on deck, yawning, the dwarf was writing down what he recalled concerning the mating habits of dragons, on which subject Barth, Munkun, and Thomax held markedly divergent views.

—ADWD, Tyrion IV

Maesters who have written on dragons: Munkun, Grand Maester to Aegon III The Dragonbane whose efforts to revive the dragons all failed - he wrote True Telling about the Dance of the Dragons as well; Thomax, unknown time; and Anonymous, who wrote a real banger that the world isn't ready for, apparently. This last one will come into play later.

There is also Truth by Maester Anson, cited in AWOIAF, which is only mentioned insofar as it disagrees with Septon Barth's statement that dragons can switch sex.

So there are at least four books written by maesters on dragons, and more that the Citadel library has collected from the world over!

(The books by Thomax and Anonymous, while both being titled The Death of Dragons, are confirmed not the same.)

There is potentially one more, if the unnamed tome Arianne encounters is unique:

During the daylight hours she would try to read, but the books that they had given her were deadly dull: ponderous old histories and geographies, annotated maps, a dry-as-dust study of the laws of Dorne, The Seven-Pointed Star and Lives of the High Septons, a huge tome about dragons that somehow made them about as interesting as newts.

—AFFC, The Princess in the Tower

In summary: the Citadel's investment in dragons/magic is rigorous, a matter serious enough that they lock knowledge on it away in a vault, in order to take a maester's vows you must undergo a test that disavows magic's existence, there are maesters willing to die to deny arcane arts, potentially maesters willing to kill for that too. To a man, maesters dismiss magic... but are they actively engineering it's downfall?

This is where it gets murky. I myself would say that they take advantage of circumstances to have others do their dirty work. That maesters seek to preserve the status quo but also manipulate it to serve their own ends. Which brings us to the next point

SECOND: HOW THE MAESTER CONSPIRACY FUNCTIONS IN ASOIAF (POSSIBLY)

In ASOIAF timeline, the dragons are all already dead and magic is subdued. As a result, the winters are longer and the summers are shorter, another thing the Citadel is deeply concerned with, being the people who officially announce the changings of the seasons.

As established, we know of Pycelle's involvement in opening King's Landing for Tywin after Rhaegar died — this is where the concept of maester's having differing motives and personal loyalties comes up.

Pycelle is a pretty clear case study, he's both deeply loyal, as a maester of the Citadel, to preserving a nominal peace regardless of the dishonorable & murderous ends required to do so... but he also personally is loyal to Tywin Lannister, who is his ideal ruler.

In a letter to the Citadel, Pycelle wrote that the divisions within the Red Keep [between Aerys and Rhaegar] reminded him uncomfortably of the situation before the Dance of the Dragons a century before, when the enmity between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra had split the realm in two, to grievous cost

—AWOIAF, The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. "My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl child of his no ill will. Yet I ask you this—should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?" He stroked his luxuriant white beard, infinitely sad, infinitely weary. "Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live?"

—AGOT, Eddard VIII

“For the realm! Once Rhaegar died, the war was done. Aerys was mad, Viserys too young, Prince Aegon a babe at the breast, but the realm needed a king... I prayed it should be your good father, but Robert was too strong, and Lord Stark moved too swiftly... ”

—ACOK, Tyrion VI

We know from the books of the unswerving Pycelle's loyalty to the Lannister and precisely to Lord Tywin. Why this loyalty? Was there any event we don't know yet?

There´s backstory yet to be revealed, certainly, but if you asked Pycelle he would insist that he was acting in the best interests of the realm.

—FORUM: Asshai Chat July 27, 2008

It's possible that Pycelle's advice given to Aerys was personally motivated by his own political beliefs on who was best suited to rule & his acceptance that the war was already over, so he needed to get out on the winning side. GRRM has hinted that there's more to the story.

It's additionally possible that Maester Walys, Rickard Stark's maester born from a Hightower mother and an alleged archmaester father, was advising Rickard on making alliances down south simply because that's what he thought was smart politicking.

However, it's interesting that multiple maesters were involved in arranging the chess board of power in Westeros against House Targaryen, and, now, are shown to be aligned to preserve power in the hands of... the Lannisters. More accurately, I would say they seek to preserve whoever is a) currently in power and b) amenable to a maester's advice and manipulation. More on this when we get to Stannis.

Now, Pycelle is personally loyal to the Lannisters because that is what he thinks is in "the best interests of the realm," but otherwise, maesters in general are invested in preserving the power structure as is, because war disrupts their slowgoing machinations (Marwyn's words: the world the Citadel is building). In fact, as the Lannisters infight throughout ACOK and become unstable, only to be saved by an alliance with the Tyrells, there is a response from the Citadel that indicates they're willing to switch to whoever is the dominant side, it if means protecting their influence.

[T]he Conclave accepted the fact of Pycelle's dismissal and set about choosing his successor. After giving due consideration to Maester Turquin the cordwainer's son and Maester Erreck the hedge knight's bastard, and thereby demonstrating to their own satisfaction that ability counts for more than birth in their order, the Conclave was on the verge of sending us Maester Gormon, a Tyrell of Highgarden. When I told your lord father, he acted at once." The Conclave met in Oldtown behind closed doors, Tyrion knew; its deliberations were supposedly a secret. So Varys has little birds in the Citadel too. "I see. So my father decided to nip the rose before it bloomed." He had to chuckle. "Pycelle is a toad. But better a Lannister toad than a Tyrell toad, no?"

—ASOS, Tyrion II

Before we get into cartoon villain territory, let's caveat that their involvement in the deaths of the dragons and the Targaryens who could potentially hatch them once more does seem to be a one-off for them in terms of puppet-mastering against a monarch, and indeed, they never intended war, preferring to function methodically in the background.

"Be that as it may. My father sat where I sit now when Lord Eddard came to Sisterton. Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward. The Mad King was open-handed with them as pleased him. By then we knew that Jon Arryn had taken Gulltown, though. Robert was the first man to gain the wall, and slew Marq Grafton with his own hand. 'This Baratheon is fearless,' I said. 'He fights the way a king should fight.' Our maester chuckled at me and told us that Prince Rhaegar was certain to defeat this rebel.

—ADWD, Davos I

They maximize their influence — they don't overstep.

On to Stannis.

[Alys Karstark:] "Arnolf [Karstark] is rushing to Winterfell, 'tis true, but only so he might put his dagger in your king's back. He cast his lot with Roose Bolton long ago … for gold, the promise of a pardon, and poor Harry's head. Lord Stannis is marching to a slaughter.

—ADWD, Jon IX

“Y-your Grace, my order is sworn to serve, we…” “I know all about your vows. What I want to know is what was in the letter that you sent to Winterfell. Did you perchance tell Lord Bolton where to find us?” “S-sire.” Round-shouldered Tybald drew himself up proudly. “The rules of my order forbid me to divulge the contents of Lord Arnolf’s letters.”

—TWOW, Unreleased Theon Chapter

Here we have Arnolf Karstark, castellan of Karhold, who pledges to Stannis... but secretly he's actually pledged to Roose Bolton, who is in league with the Lannisters. Together they planned the Red Wedding. The Karstark maester is seen assisting in this plot to see Stannis dead via the Karstark-Bolton-Lannister network.

Does Stannis have his own maester with him? No, Maester Cressen dies in the ACOK Prologue, and his replacement, Pylos, is not mentioned as having accompanied Stannis North. Stannis is far from the influence of the Citadel and has publicly declared his new faith in R'hllor, something for the Citadel/general Westerosi hegemony to worry about, and now we have a maester helping to plot against him...

Once more, it's possible that said maester is simply acting of his own volitions & values. Conveniently in service to House Lannister which currently holds power. However, he's not the only Northern maester to have conflicting loyalties South:

[Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor:] If Stannis wonders that my letters say so little, it is because I dare not even trust my maester. Theomore is all head and no heart. You heard him in my hall. Maesters are supposed to put aside old loyalties when they don their chains, but I cannot forget that Theomore was born a Lannister of Lannisport and claims some distant kinship to the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. Foes and false friends are all around me, Lord Davos.

—ADWD, Davos IV

Something to consider.

THIRD: ADDRESSING THE FERTILITY OF TARGARYEN WOMEN

Let's take it back for a minute. I'm separating this section because a whole bunch of it comes from AWOIAF/Fire & Blood and I know not everyone is super familiar with those, so I'm taking time to explain it fully. A big facet of the Maester Conspiracy has to do with magic and dragons ergo House Targaryen. We have covered the Aerys/Pycelle, Maester Aemon, and Daenerys portions.

But there is a larger relevant point: The miscarriages and stillbirths of Targaryen women.

From AGOT we know that the birth of dragons is tied to blood magic, but specifically, that magic which is performed by Daenerys — a pregnant Targaryen. She has prophetic visions both asleep and awake that lead her to the final hatching of the dragons... and it's the deaths of Rhaego in her womb, Drogo by her hand, and Mirri by her order that facilitate this.

She was lying there, holding the egg, when she felt the child move within her… as if he were reaching out, brother to brother, blood to blood. "You are the dragon," Dany whispered to him, "the true dragon. I know it. I know it." And she smiled, and went to sleep dreaming of home.

—AGOT, Daenerys IV

"You will not hear me scream," Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing. "I will," Dany said, "but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life."

—AGOT, Daenerys X

So, let's posit that there is some matriarchal link between fertility, motherhood, and births... even of dragons.

The theory here is that maesters, operating under the idea that Targaryen wives's fertility was somehow related to the blood magics/births of dragons, meddled with their pregnancies to prevent said magics/births of dragons.

The reason the maesters may have suspected this? Well according to AGOT and Fire & Blood, at certain times, Targaryen women/wives experienced miscarriages of fetuses that were "monstrous." Dragonlike, some might describe them (some being me, in the following list) — so the contention that the women of House Targaryen were magically involved in literal dragon-birthing does seem possible.

The miscarriages in question:

1A) Maegor Targaryen and Alys Harroway's stillborn: a monster, with twisted limbs, a huge head, and no eyes.

1B) The hatchling born to Alyn Velaryon and Baela Targaryen's daughter Laena: the dragon that wriggled from the egg was a monstrosity, a wingless wyrm, maggot-white and blind

2A) Maegor and Jeyne Westerling's stillborn: a legless and armless creature possessed of both male and female genitalia → eventual death in childbirth

2B) Maester Aemon in AFFC Samwell IV: Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame

3A) Maegor and Elinor Costayne's stillborn: a malformed and stillborn child, an eyeless boy born with rudimentary wings

3B) In The Hedge Knight, the last dragon to ever live is described as small with unformed wings

4A) Daemon Targaryen and Laena Velaryon's stillborn: the babe was twisted and malformed, and died within the hour → eventual death in childbirth

4B) Laena's stillbirth unique because it's implied that Rhaenyra's maester, Gerardys, who arrived slightly too late, might have been able to assist in saving Laena's life following the birth — the same way he was able to save Viserys I's hand and life when other maesters couldn't. Thus, incompetence or malice on the part of the present maester might have contributed to Laena's death.

5A) Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen's stillborn Visenya, Rhaenyra's early labor brought on by the news of her father's death and her usurpation by Aegon II:

The princess shrieked curses all through her labor, calling down the wrath of the gods upon her half-brothers and their mother, the queen, and detailing the torments she would inflict upon them before she would let them die. She cursed the child inside her too, Mushroom tells us, clawing at her swollen belly as Maester Gerardys and her midwife tried to restrain her and shouting, “Monster, monster, get out, get out, GET OUT!” When the babe at last came forth, she proved indeed a monster: a stillborn girl, twisted and malformed, with a hole in her chest where her heart should have been, and a stubby, scaled tail.

—Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons: The Blacks and the Greens

5B) Rhaenyra's usurpation by Aegon II is a parallel to the usurpation of the Amethyst Empress by her younger brother the Bloodstone Emperor, in the ancient Great Empire of the Dawn. This is said to have been what caused the first Long Night to occur and indeed, after Rhaenyra, we see the dragons die out, magic disappear, summers grow short, and winter grow long.

When the daughter of the Opal Emperor succeeded him as the Amethyst Empress, her envious younger brother cast her down and slew her, proclaiming himself the Bloodstone Emperor and beginning a reign of terror. [...] In the annals of the Further East, it was the Blood Betrayal, as his usurpation is named, that ushered in the age of darkness called the Long Night.

—AWOIAF, The Bones and Beyond: Yi Ti

6) Naerys Targaryen's multiple miscarriages/stillbirths vs. 2 living children → eventual death in childbirth

7) Rhaella Targaryen's 8 miscarriages/stillbirths/child deaths vs. 3 living children → eventual death in childbirth

8) Daenerys with Rhaego:

"Monstrous," Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous. "Twisted. I drew him forth myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was full of graveworms and the stink of corruption. He had been dead for years." Darkness, Dany thought. The terrible darkness sweeping up behind to devour her. If she looked back she was lost. "My son was alive and strong when Ser Jorah carried me into this tent," she said. "I could feel him kicking, fighting to be born."

—AGOT, Daenerys IX

With these in mind, we can ask: why would anyone think these similar descriptions have anything to do with outside interference? Couldn't it just be that Targaryen babies are weird, it's the blood magic and the incest, nothing to see here?

The thing is that all of Maegor's stillborn children (3/6 examples of dragonesque children) were poisoned, by Tyanna of the Tower. Rhaego was also poisoned, by Mirri Maaz Duur's blood magic.

So 4/6 of these hybrid children were born under the influence of some sort of darker magic. This still leaves Rhaenyra and Laena's respective draconic stillbirths. It opens the question of whether poison was involved in those, too. In my personal opinion, it might also intend to raise a question mark on the matrilineage of Targaryen women who birthed children & brought about dragons — a private theory but raised by the idea of Rhaego's description and the concept of him being "dead for years."

That said, the two serious cases I think we can look into here are Naerys and Rhaella's serial miscarriages/stillbirths/child deaths.

Both these women suffered from frail health and abusive circumstances. Naerys was extremely slight and small of stature, it's possible that she simply struggled with the physical toll of pregnancies. Rhaella gave birth for the first time under traumatic circumstances (the burning of Summerhall and deaths of her family) when she was 14 years old, totally reasonable that she'd be permanently affected by that. In fact, these are two women for whom it would not be suspicious should they experience fertility issues. So if there were ever two people who you could get away with pulling this on...

The reasons to consider each more closely —

NAERYS TARGARYEN: Naerys's successful birth of Daeron (later Daeron II) happened the same year the last dragon died. After this, King Aegon III The Dragonbane started attempting to hatch new dragons whereas before he was extremely resistant to dragon-anything. Naerys's miscarriages and stillbirths begin only after attempts to hatch dragons commence — a likely time, if a link between her fertility and future dragons was suspected by bad actors. Her only other living child Daenerys Lateborn is born 17 years later, and in fact is one of a set of twins, the other child dying at birth. So, it's possible that pregnancy was also tampered with, and simply did not succeed on both twins

Counterpoint One: Naerys was not a healthy or robust person, nor did she desire to carry children. They were forced on her by her purposely cruel brother-husband Aegon IV. It's possible she was not poisoned and simply suffered from miscarriages/stillbirths naturally.

Counterpoint Two: Naerys was married to a man who had many mistresses, lovers, bastards, and grasping councilors. It's possible that she was poisoned, but not by maesters, rather by those who sought to gain power by opening up the position of Queen.

RHAELLA TARGARYEN: Aerys and Rhaella were married to one another based on a prophecy by the Ghost of High Heart that through them, The Prince/Princess That Was Promised would be born.

"Why did they wed if they did not love each other?" "Your grandsire commanded it. A woods witch had told him that the prince was promised would be born of their line."

—ADWD, Daenerys IV

"Maester Aemon believed that Daenerys Targaryen was the fulfillment of a prophecy... her, not Stannis, nor Prince Rhaegar, nor the princeling whose head was dashed against the wall." "Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star. I know the prophecy." Marwyn turned his head and spat a gob of red phlegm onto the floor.

—AFFC, Samwell V

Someday the dragons will return. My brother Daeron's dreamed of it, and King Aerys read it in a prophecy. Maybe it will be my egg that hatches. That would be splendid

—The Hedge Knight

The prophecy is known to at least one maester of the Citadel... seems realistic that it would be known to multiple! The prophecy in question regards the birth of the Prince/Princess That Was Promised, the herald who will bring dragons back into the world, and the culmination of House Targaryen. When Rhaella became pregnant and was close to her due date, the King Aegon V had all the Targaryens gather in Summerhall where he intended to attempt to hatch seven dragon eggs (perhaps he also had some suspicion about the connection between the blood magic needed to hatch dragons and Rhaella's imminent potentially prophesized birth?)

… the blood of the dragon gathered in one … … seven eggs, to honor the seven gods, though the king’s own septon had warned … … pyromancers … … wildfire … … ames grew out of control … towering … burned so hot that … … died, but for the valor of the Lord Comman …

—AWOIAF, The Targaryen Kings: Aegon V

This is what remains of the story of Summerhall. Who wrote this note? Maester Corso, of course. Where did he send this letter? The Citadel. Woof. Innocuous on it's own but for the purpose of this post, in line with the idea that the Citadel was keeping a close eye on all things dragon.

The Maester Conspiracy would ask: who is to say what really went wrong at Summerhall? All we know is that Rhaella gave birth there amidst the chaos and then she didn't give birth to a child who lived past a year for 17 years to come. Miscarriages, stillbirths, child deaths... she had them all. Aerys's paranoia grew and grew until Rhaella was completely isolated. It was under these conditions of extreme scrutiny that Rhaella finally had Viserys, and Viserys lived, and then Daenerys was born while isolated on Dragonstone & raised far from maester's influence following.

Here's the point that sticks out though:

"Lannisport was the end of our voyage," Prince Oberyn went on, as Ser Arron Qorgyle helped him into a padded leather tunic and began lacing it up the back. "Were you aware that our mothers knew each other of old?" "They had been at court together as girls, I seem to recall. Companions to Princess Rhaella?"

"Just so. It was my belief that the mothers had cooked up this plot between them.

—ASOS, Tyrion X

The Unnamed Princess of Dorne and Joanna Lannister were both companions to Princess Rhaella. The exact timeline is unclear but it's definite that the Unnamed Princess was older than the other two. She'd given birth to Doran over a decade before Rhaegar was born, although Rhaella was a very young mother (13 or 14). However, they were close enough to cook up 'plots.' It seems realistic that the Unnamed Princess was present earlier in Rhaella's life while Joanna came about later. GRRM is not trustworthy with ages and timelines anyway, so that's a supposition.

All three of these women had the same experience: a firstborn who lived, followed by a long expanse of fertility issues, followed by another successful birth (or more).

"I was the oldest," the prince said, "and yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. When the raven arrived with word that my mother had been brought to bed a month too soon, I was old enough to understand that meant the child would not live. Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die. Yet she lived, by the Mother's mercy. And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking.

—AFFC, The Captain of the Guard

Doran was nine before his mother had another successful birth after two child deaths. Her manner of death is unknown. Tyrion is likewise nine years younger than Jaime & Cersei. Joanna Lannister's possible fertility issues in the in-between are unknown, but she died in childbirth. Viserys is 17 years younger than Rhaegar (similar to how Daenerys Lateborn is 17 years younger than Daeron II). Rhaella Targaryen died in childbirth. If all three of these women who canonically shared time, meals, chambers, etc together suffered from similar infertility issues and timelines, with Rhaella being the worst affected, can we theorize that there might have been issues of poison at play?

Pycelle was the Grand Maester at the time — we know he was involved in other plots with poison at the center (Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn most notably), and we also know that Tywin Lannister married for love. So despite his loyalty to Tywin, couldn't it be that Pycelle never expected Tywin to match with his cousin of few advantages, and that Joanna's struggles were perhaps an unintended, unforeseen consequence?

Could this be the additional backstory regarding Pycelle and Tywin that GRRM is referencing?

Counterpoint One: If the maesters were aware of the prophecy and Rhaegar fulfilled it, they shouldn't have continued with Rhaella

Counterpoint Two: The timeline for the various births of Rhaella, Joanna, and Unnamed Princess are all over the place. It's possible that GRRM didn't simply flub the timeline and actually there is no connection between these three women's similar fertility issues.

Counterpoint Three: Rhaella was traumatized from her young birth and Summerhall's tragedy, her fertility issues arose naturally.

All possibilities.

FOURTH: IS ALL OF THIS GOING TO BITE THE CITADEL IN THE ASS SOMEHOW? WHY ARE THEY EVEN DOING THIS? (SPECULATION)

My theory as to the roots of the Maester Conspiracy is threefold:

ONE: The Citadel, like all institutions of higher academia, is not politically neutral and is invested in specific visions for the future. They inherently seek to preserve the status quo which allows them to function and expand their own influence. They are as liable to corruption as any of the other institutions we see (monarchy, knighthood, the Faith, the Night's Watch, the Kingsguard, etc.) and while maesters do not act as one, they do act as an informal web pushing forth specific beliefs and ideals.

TWO: Not all maesters are created equal. Archmaesters and other such influential members of the Citadel are closer to certain truths than others, it's in the handchosen placement of maesters in the ears of specific lords/political players that we see a larger plan.

THREE: The Citadel is aware of prophecies foretelling a second Long Night to come. To combat this, they have long sought to destroy one of the heralds of said disaster, that being dragons. To put it simply: All magic is from the same root / all magic must be destroyed.

That's my theory.

Now, is this going to bite them in the ass? Hahaha of course!

ONE: The Faceless Men are infiltrating the Citadel due to some plan we are not yet privy to. The AFFC Prologue shows us the novice Pate being body snatched by an FM implied to the Jaqen H'ghar — what is he after, though? Potentially the extremely rare book titled The Death of Dragons that is solely kept in some locked basement of the Citadel... which he just acquired a key for?

TWO: Euron Greyjoy is coming to sack Oldtown, and he is obsessed with dragons/arcane arts/doing experiments with pregnant women (back to my point about connecting dragon births and human fertility)... but above all, he is not nice.

THREE: Daenerys Targaryen is coming to Westeros, and she's the Mother of Dragons. The Dragons are here. By focusing on dragons, it's possible the maesters have lost sight of the bigger picture — the incoming Long Night, wights, and Battle for the Dawn.

That was such a long post I fear and way beyond the question you asked. I appreciate it anyway, seeing as I've wanted to get all these thoughts out for a while to organize what I think & what the text itself points to.

To answer your question: Yes I do think the Maester Conspiracy is a real thing! I believe it's been set up mainly insofar as it will guide Samwell Tarly's POVs in Oldtown, the upcoming Euron Greyjoy plotlines, and potentially Arya due to the Faceless Men connect.

Eventually it will bring Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow into play (the latter likely due to the Arya and Sam of it all, which winks to the importance of Jon now having an Oldtown-bred squire in Satin), probably in line with the concept of the Second Dance George has been teasing us about.

Just how it will all play out, though, I couldn't say. We shall have to see. Drink water. Manifest TWOW. Speaking of manifesting...

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #text #maesters #maester aemon #maester cressen #maestern luwin #archmaester marwyn #rhaella targaryen #naerys targaryen #samwell tarly #tyrion lannister #daenerys targaryen #the citadel #joanna lannister #unnamed princess of dorne #magic in asoiaf #asoiaf speculation

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gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years

Text

ML fic: The Hunt

(Warning, Contains Blood, and Graphic Violence)

(Happy Birthday @masked-bixch )

(I hope you enjoy the present at the end)

A man in a trench coat carrying a duffel bag walked into the sewers of Paris.

He was of a decent build and average height, not buff, not scrawny. His hair was short and jet black. He had a pencil mustache and kept most of his face hidden by the use of his hat. If needed he could likely slip into a crowd without notice.

He had heard of the bizzare events that have been occurring in Paris, a place were sad people get possessed by evil bugs and fight superheroes. It would sound insane if there wasn’t video proof.

What really was insane was the recent bounty that popped up. One that many would consider a practical joke. In fact, many thought it was done as a way to flush out greedy hitmen.

10 million Euros for Ladybug and Chat noir.

It was such a rediculous idea. Hiring an assassin to kill superheroes.

He didn’t understand why he was even bothering to check out the legitimacy of this insane bounty. Was it boredom? Perhaps hope for a challenge. He had been in this field for 20 years now, and he really wanted a way to prove himself. Not many people know it, but hitmen are arrogant egomaniacs. Reputation is as valuable as gold. If he could pull it off, then his rep would be without question.

He followed the directions to the rendezvous point, and he was shocked to see that this was legit.

In front of him stood a man in a purple suit and a silver mask, a metal briefcase in his hand. Even he knew that this was the villain of Paris, the super terrorist, Hawkmoth.

“So, it was real.” The man in the trench coat stated, an amused smile graced his face.

“I take it you are interested in the assignment.” The masked man questioned, keeping a serious face.

“I was curious about this strange bounty that popped up. Many people in my circle think it’s a set up to a sting operation.”

“Yet you came anyway?”

“I figured a cop wouldn’t be so brazen with their trap.”

Hawkmoth didn’t react to the man’s comments.

“Can I get the name of the man I’m hiring?”

“You can call me Hunter. You of all people should know the importance of a civillain identity being kept secret.” Hunter mused

Hawkmoth nodded.

“Very well. Hunter, your assignment is to get me the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat noir, whether they are dead or alive is no concern of mine.”

Hunter looked at the villain before chuckling.

“So, your use of gloomy people has been so ineffective you needed to actually hire someone.”

Hawkmoth was not amused.

“So, if I take the job. Do I get some special equipment to deal with these freaks? Or will I be able to put a bullet in their skulls without a problem.

“The miraculous enhances their natural durability to superhuman levels. So long as their wearing the miraculous, normal weapons won’t be able to do much against them. A typical bullet would be a bug bite at worst.”

Hunter scoffed.

“Figured.”

Hawkmoth smiles.

“But, I can give you the edge you need.”

He reveals his Cane and opens the dome on top of it to reveal a black butterfly.

“A butterfly? I hope you are joking.”

“Trust me. This will be more then enough”

“Alright, show the cash. I need to make sure I aint getting stiffed.”

Hawkmoth tosses the suit case to the assassin.

He opens the case and his eyes go wide, a dark grin appears on his face.

“Let me just check to make sure its real.”

Hunter quickly pulls a bundle of bills and examines them, it was real. It was legit.

“And they say crime doesn't pay.”

“Consider that a down payment. Should you succeed, you will be receiving payments over the course of 5 years.”

Hunter closes the case.

“I want those payments in American bills. Cant exactly stick around here spending this cash.”

“Your demands will be met. Now, shall we begin?”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Another quiet Patrol. Seems that Hawkmoth might have Migrated for the winter.” The cat themed costume quipped.

“I don’t trust this. Don't you find it off Chat noir? Its been over a month since the last akuma attack.” The red clad heroine commented.

“Relax Ladybug, maybe Hawkmoth felt humiliated after the 30th akumatization of Mr.Pigeon and decided to take up stamp collecting.”

Ladybug moved to the edge of the roof they were on to get a better view of the area. The night was quite peaceful, even for the city at night. Something felt very wrong.

Chat noir’s ear twitched as he picked up on something.

“Duck!”

Chat noir tackled Ladybug out of the way just barely avoiding a small incoming projectile.

“What was that?”

Ladybug looked in the direction of where the object came from.

“Roll!”

Ladybug rolled with Chat noir avoiding the next few attacks.

“What in Plagg’s name is going on!?” Chat noir questioned. Confused by the sudden attack.

The two got up.

“We need to move.”

The two started to move across rooftops.

“Looks like Hawkmoth decided to get his lazy butt up again.”

“Chat noir Focus, this akuma is sniping at us.”

“Yea, its probably wants to capture us like with Desperada. We should avoid getting hit.”

The akuma looked away from his scope.

His clothes took the colors of the environment around him. His eyes blood red and his pupils like those of an eagle. He had a black mask cover his face, which also acted similar to his clothing. He was as stealthy as a chameleon. and as deadly as a Cobra.

“Damn, they are quicker then I expected. I guess that explains the high cost.”

He got up from his spot and stretched.

“I guess this is where the real fun begins.”

He goes into his bag to change his sniper rifle for two sleek Desert Eagle Pistols.

“Gotta admit Hawky. You really suited me up. I can just think of a weapon and bam, I can pull it right out of my bag. I am pretty damn sure these are illegal here.”

A purple butterfly outline appeared over his eyes.

“Remember Hero Hunter, these aren't just copies. Thanks to the powers I gifted you, those weapons are lethal, even to them. That includes if they are turned on you as well.”

“Yea Yea, I am well aware of the powers. I get their magic trinkets, and take them back to you. And I can kill them if I want to.”

“Just be sure you succeed.”

“Noted.”

Hero hunter Dashed along the roof tops after the two. He was planning on doing two quick shots then clean up. But perhaps he can enjoy an up close kill.

_______________________________________________________________________

“We need to find a place to regroup and think of a way to handle this akuma.”

“Agreed, I hate when the akuma hides like this. It is super annoying.” Chat noir spat.

“Good thing I am not hiding.”

The two heroes stopped to see the akuma appear in front of them.

He was wearing camouflage that seemed to shift to the correct colors of his environment at will. He looked like a mix of a soldier and a game hunter. But what caught the two heroes attention were the two pistols in his hands.

“Are those guns? Like actual guns!?” Chat noir questioned in disbelief.

The akuma smirked.

“Desert Eagle. .44 Magnum. Always buy American.” He said as he pointed his gun at the cat.

“Now, hand over the miraculous, or I turn you both in to Swiss cheese.”

“Hate to tell you this, but those won't do anything to us. Got some impressive Invulnerability. At best those will be an annoy...”

Chat noir heard the click of the barrel but was caught off guard by the bullet the went through his thigh

“AGH!!!!” Chat noir Screamed as blood spilled out of the hole. He grabbed his Thigh as he fell down on one knee, reeling from the pain.

“So much for your durability.” He mocked. “Now last chance, or next shot goes through your skull.”

Ladybug felt a chill go down her spine. This was nothing like the other akuma attacks. This was a true life or death battle. Hawkmoth was playing for keeps!

He lined up his next shot for his head but his arm was snagged by a yo-yo. The sudden movement made him release his gun.

“You get away from him you monster!” Ladybug screamed in rage.

The akuma growled and turned his other hand to her, trying to shoot her.

Ladybug quickly jumped in the air, narrowly avoiding the bullets. He cursed as he realized he needed to reload.

Ladybug took this chance to scoop up Chat noir and get him out of there.

“Sneaky bug.” He muttered angrily. He was done playing nice. He didn't care if they were kids. They were making a mockery of him, and he has a reputation to maintain.

He goes into his bag and pulls out something much bigger.

“This will be perfect for Exterminating that bug.”

______________________________________________________________________

“Ghhh.” Chat noir bit his lip to hold in his pain as Ladybug put pressure on the wound.

“Okay, so we have an akuma with weapons that ignore our durability.”Ladybug stated as she was trying to figure out a plan.

“Figured that one out. Thankfully, I can heal quick. I think the bleeding is stopping.”

Chat noir managed to stand up. He grunted in pain as he kept himself standing.

“Oh no you don't. You are staying hidden until I solve this.”

“Like hell I am! You expect me to lay back and let the woman I love get shot at?! You're crazy if you think....”

Chat noir noticed Ladybug was in tears.

“Ladybug...”

“I don't want you to die Chatton! You are injured and that wound will slow you down. There is no way you can dodge bullets in your condition!”

“Ladybug... You still have miraculous healing. Once we beat the akuma, all the damage will be undone. That can't happen if you get killed. You need me out there.” Chat noir reasoned.

Ladybug could see his logic. She hated that he was right, she hated that there was a chance they could die. She hugged him. The two managing to calm their nerves after the embrace.

“Okay, but you need to be careful. I don't want you getting hurt anymore.”

“I promise, I will be alright when this is over.”

“Come out Come out Wherever you are!!”

A voice called out from a distance.

“Seems the hunter is getting impatient.” Chat noir rolled his eyes.

“Well maybe I have something to turn the tide and make the hunter the hunted.”

“Lucky Charm.”

_____________________________________________________________________

The Akuma sits on the roof top, his camouflage active to ensure he was hiding.

He was pretending that he was getting cocky in order to draw the two heroes out. They will be expecting an outright fight. But he had something special planned.

The two peer from their hiding place, looking around to see where he was.

‘Just a little further.’

“Where did he go? I could of sworn I heard him.”

“Keep calm kitty, he might have a trick up his sleeve.”

‘Just pop right out.’

Chat Noir jumped out of the spot.

“Now!”

He presses the button in his hand.

A sting pulls chat noir back just barely avoiding the exploding mine.

“Damn it!” The akuma cursed.

“Nice try, we figured you would try something like that. And now we know where you are. So quit the chameleon act.

The akuma revealed himself and had his arms up.

“Alright. You caught me. I have been outsmarted.”

Ladybug could see that the man was clearly lying through his teeth, he was reaching for something.

“Its a trap.”

The man revealed a massive Gun and aimed it at them.

“Bye bye.”

The akuma let loose a storm of bullets from his automatic machine gun.

Chat noir began spinning his Staff as fast as he could to block the bullets. Ladybug used the opportunity to slick away.

“I never get to use these. They are so much fun!” The akuma roars with laughter. His bullets not as accurate as before with the powerful gun shooting off rapid fire.

Chat noir managed to block a majority of the bullets but he was getting knocked and hit by a few missed ones, He was starting to getting much bloodier and his baton was slowing down. He was biting his lip to avoid screaming in pain. These bullets hurt like hell.

“You’re finished you mangy mongrel.”

He felt something his his hands.

“What the heck.

“He looked up to see Ladybug.

He pointed his gun upward and began firing. A few bullets managed to connect as she was in the air.

“GHH!” She groaned in pain as she rolled from the landing.

“Nice try Bug. But now your going to be exterminated.”

He pointed the gun at her.

“Ladybug!” Chat noir cried out as he tried to move.

Click

“Out of ammo. No matter, I still have ammunition in my pistols and with how weak you two are, it will be easy pickings.” He boasted as he tried to drop his empty gun. But he couldn't.

“Wait... I can't let go of my gun!”

Ladybug smirked as she revealed the super glue she had on her person, she tossed it aside used her Yo-Yo to circle around his legs and tripped him. His pistols and duffel bag flew off of him as he was helpless to get them.

“You got to be kidding me!” He screamed in frustration.

“Chat noir, the bag!”

The cat slowly stumbled to the bag. Ladybug took notice of the dozens of holes in his body, the cat had managed to protect his vital organs, but his body was bloody and he would die from blood loss if the healing didn't happen soon.

“Hurry Chat!”

“Cata...clysm...” Chat noir called out in a weak voice as he fell forward. Touching the bag with his hand, turning it black and causing it to crumble. The black butterfly popped out.

“No!” The akuma shouted.

Ladybug untangled her yo-yo and went to snag the akuma.

“Time to de-evilize.”

She snagged the akuma with her Yo-Yo and purified it. This resulted in the akuma reverting back into his normal form.

“Chat, the akuma is down! Chat?”

She looks to see a large puddle of red liquid pooling around him.

Ladybug looked away, she couldn't freeze up right now. She needed to cast healing.

“Miraculous ladybug!”

She tossed the glue container into the air and she watched as her powers activate.

The damage to the environment vanished, and the pool of blood around chat noir vanished. Ladybug’s leg healed instantly.

“Chat!” She ran to the cat hero, who was still laying face down in the ground.

“Its alright Chat noir. I fixed everything. You are all fixed up.”

The de-akumatized hitman noticed the hero was distracted. He quietly made his way toward his bag. He had some things in there that would not give him plausible deniability over this whole mess.

“Chatton?” Ladybug touched his cheek and noticed he felt cold. She frantically began checking for a pulse.

“No... no no no... We... we won. This shouldn't.”

The assassin slicked away as the hero desperately tried to revive her partner.

“I wonder if hawkmoth will pay for half the job done?”

______________________________________________________________________

Is Chat Noir Alive? Is he dead?

As my birthday gift @masked-bixch is the one that gets the final say!

I will write the ending after I get the response from her.

It is her birthday gift, she should get to decide how it all ends.

#ml #ml angst #tw: blood #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #does he live?#does he die #tw: Character Death?#masked-bixch #I hope you like it #miraculous angst

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katherinewilliams221b · 4 years

Text

For A Greater Good 10/18

not my gif just the text (Feels Like Home)

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9]

“I snuck out some tea from the kitchens.”

Kate left two teacups and a teapot on a small table in a corner of the first floor of the library.

Corentin raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not my first time.” She sat down in front of him with a small smile and nodded, letting Corentin serve the tea.

“Well... how’s life as a librarian?”

“Busier than it might seem. I’m constantly learning. So, I hear you’re a teacher now.”

Kate wrinkled her nose and took a sip of her drink.

“Attempt to be... with poor results. Let’s change the subject, I need to think about something else. Tell me about yourself.”

Corentin drank from his cup and looked up, pretending to think.

“Let’s see, I have a sister, Arlette, who lives in Lyon. She is an artist. That painting over there is hers.”

Kate turned and twisted her neck to see the painting hanging on the wall. It was a tree among mountains of snowy peaks with long branches that, instead of leaves, hung tiny books that opened and closed.

“The landscape changes with the seasons and the books come and go from the canvas according to the flow of the library books.

“Your sister is a genius.” She commented, admiring the painting.

“I will make sure she never hears that; we must not feed her ego.”

Amidst her laughter, Kate gasped and Corentin silently admonished her for being too loud.

She reached inside the cape and took out the copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

“At last. Something more suitable for your age next time, perhaps?

“It took me a long time, I know, I didn’t have time. But I think I’ve understood. You told me that the key to Grindelwald’s power was in this book. And one of the stories caught my attention.”

“Well?”

“The fountain of fair fortune. Three witches and a knight are chosen to make a wish to the fountain of good fortune. On the way, they encounter different challenges. They must deliver three things: the proof of their pain, the fruit of their efforts, and the treasure of their past.

The librarian patiently drank his tea while Kate spoke.

“Leaving aside the moral, if that fountain were to come into existence, did Grindelwald manage to find it to ask for power? And the experiments he was doing here in Durmstrang, were those sacrifices?”

Kate stared at Corentin, excited by her reasoning and waiting for his approval.

“I like the way your mind works, but you’ve got the wrong tale.” Kate deflated and finished what was left of her tea in the cup.

Corentin raised an arm and a scroll and a quill flew at them. With graceful fingers, he drew a circle on the paper.

“The resurrection stone.” With three lines, he wrapped the circle. “The cloak of invisibility.” And finally, a single straight line crossed both figures. “The Elder Wand. They are called: the Deathly Hallows.”

Kate’s brow jumped to her hairline thinking about the column in the courtyard, but then she looked at Corentin in confusion. “Do they exist?”

“You were willing to believe that there was a fountain that grants wishes, weren’t you?” Kate shrugged her head in agreement.

“I know that Gellert believed in them and that he spent the time here in Durmstrang looking for them. And I have the impression that, some time later, he found at least one.”

“The older brother’s wand.” Corentin nodded.

“The mark on that column has nothing to do with him. People began to associate him with it, and he never denied it.”

She sighed and looked up at the centre of the tower where the enormous chandelier hanging high in the air sparkled.

“Williams. You must understand that if you tell this to anyone, you will look like a fool. No one believes that they exist because they have never been found.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Because you asked me and I’m telling you what I believe.”

They continued to drink tea in pleasant silence while Kate thought about the importance of this new information.

Nothing that Corentin was telling her served her well in her mission and, although it was true that curiosity got the better of her, the whole thing was a dead end.

Just before she was about to return the tea set to the kitchens, Corentin stopped her.

“I don’t know if you know this already, but there’s a greenhouse behind the castle.” Kate’s eyes rounded. “Flavia wasn’t using it, but you might be interested.”

“Corentin, you don’t know how happy you’ve just made me now.”

“And Kate... do you want another piece of advice?" She nodded, "be the teacher you wish you had.”

A greenhouse. A greenhouse that no one had told her about. It was a mistake on her part not to have insisted on it.

This was exactly what she needed: having something to put a little green in her life, to feel the earth in her hands, to water flowers and to see them grow.

After sneaking back into the kitchens to return the teapot, she went to the place Corentin had indicated to her right by the lake.

It was quite far from the castle and it was abandoned, Professor Hodges didn’t use it for her classes, and that showed in the students’ knowledge.

With a look full of hope, she ventured inside the building.

She walked through the rubble, full of broken pots and dry leaves. The plants that were there were dead except for the ivy that had worked its way through the broken glass on the roof.

“I must cut that down.” She muttered to herself.

She ran her hand over the wooden table. It was in good condition, not a single splinter, and the varnish was practically intact. It was big enough to teach all the children at once.

She inspected every cabinet and drawer, taking inventory of the material and equipment she had. She could give a decent lesson with those instruments and was looking forward to that.

She looked around once more and, filled with joy, she was soon trying to put on one overall she found over the dress. Luckily, it was loose enough.

After making a bun with a rubber band, she armed herself with a pair of pruning shears and a ladder and climbed up to the glass roof to get rid of the ivy which covered the inside of the building.

The hours passed, and the morning turned into evening faster than she would have wished. For the first time since she had been at Durmstrang, she felt at home.

From the top of the dome and with her wand between her teeth, she admired the colours of the sky. It looked like a freshly painted canvas, one of Badeea’s paintings.

She was mesmerised for a few minutes, during which she began to feel the effects of a whole day’s hard work. She massaged her thighs and threw away the last branch of ivy she had in her hand before going back down into the greenhouse.

She picked up her wand and with a wave of the hand all the crushed glass on the floor flew to their rightful place, recomposing the roof and walls.

The broom that she had bewitched a few hours ago rested beside the mountain of leaves and dust that waited to be picked up by the door.

Kate looked at her work with satisfaction, and though it might have taken much less time to restore the building completely with magic, the manual labour also restored her spirit and soul.

She circled the centre table and headed for the flowerpots in the closet at the end of the room.

She decided that removing weeds and changing the soil was part of the experience of learning herbology, so she just removed the dust and cobwebs to save her students some work.

Her students. It was a curious phrase. She had never seen herself as a teacher. It was Rowan who did that work, not her. After seeing the essays that they had done, she had no hope of improving her teaching skills until that point.

The opportunity to be able to interact with the plants they had been studying would perhaps make them all less miserable and might even get them to learn something. Getting them to be interested in the subject was going to be a more laborious task.

Charlie would be a brilliant teacher, with that infinite patience he has, she thought.

A wave of melancholy washed over her unexpectedly.

Oh, how she missed him. It was usual to go for an entire day without seeing each other, or speaking, each one busy with their respective work, but both knew that the time would come to meet for dinner and share their day amidst laughter and kisses.

Now that was impossible.

As she let her mind torture her, she had not realised that she had begun to stir the soil with her fingers and that in turn, all those thoughts were channelled into the pot, making a small orange flower grow. She was startled to feel the warmth of magic in her fingers reaching the flower.

Her eyes suddenly blurred, and without being able to avoid it, one tear after another ran down her cheeks and made their way down her throat.

She sniffled and then grunted, feeling stupid. She wiped her tears with her sleeve and with a sad smile, picked up the flower that had reminded her of Charlie to keep it between the pages of her journal.

Just as she was picking up her coat to leave, the door to the greenhouse opened.

Too early for the moon to appear, the light coming from the castle was not strong enough to identify the figure that had just entered, so she approached the table with a quick ‘Lumos’.

“Professor Angelov!”

The secretive transfigurations teacher was startled to hear his name. It was clear he didn’t expect to find anyone there.

“What happened here?” he sounded strangely offended, even though Kate had done in one day the work that should have been done in months.

“I repaired the building. I plan to use it for my classes,” she hesitated to criticise Durmstrang’s teaching system to a professor, but her mouth went ahead of her brain and she wasn’t quick enough to stop it. “as it should have been done.”

Angry eyes shone in the light of her wand.

Kate put aside the reason for Leron’s visit to the greenhouse and focused on deciphering his anger. Even her legilimens skills couldn’t figure out its origin. She could only pick up confusion and... fear?

Angelov did not bother to say another word to her and with a movement of his cloak, which reminded Kate of her former potions teacher, he strode out into the night.

The next day, Kate decided to put to good use the new and improved greenhouse and took her students through the grounds of Durmstrang.

“I think you’re going to love this. Well, at least I’m excited.”

She waved her wand to keep all fifteen books in the air as she walked down the path to her students.

There was a lot of grunting and snorting when Kate told them they would not be in the classroom that day, but she was convinced that a little natural light and playing with dirt would change their mood.

“We’re almost there. I know you were bored the other day, and so was I, so...”

Kate stopped in front of the glass building and showed it off with her arm outstretched.

Several students exchanged glances, others stared at her, waiting for instructions.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Are we going to have a class here?” asked one girl.

“Indeed, Dana, we’ll do three hours a week here: one on Wednesday and two on Friday, what do you think?”

“That this place is dangerous.” Said Jon Hopkins.

“Ah, but that’s not true anymore. Come on, let’s go inside.” The sparkle in her eyes went unnoticed by the students who, skeptical of the change of scenery, entered behind her.

Kate surrounded the long central table where she left her books and headed for the end of the room. She waited for everyone to finish looking around and pile in with her.

“Lesson number one: safety. In that cupboard over there there are overalls for everyone, I’ve washed them, of course, so take one all and put it on over your uniform. There are also protective gloves. Take a pair too.”

Michael Angelov went to the table and took out a scroll to write something down. One of his companions looked at his writing and began to laugh.

“Are you going to write down everything she says?” The others laughed with him.

“Who knows, it might be an exam question. I recommend that you do the same. Memory can be treacherous.”

As they reluctantly left their bags and backpacks, the speech continued.

“You are responsible for your new work clothes. We will use potions, spells and dangerous plants, the suit will protect you and it is vital that you wear it. If someone is not wearing the suit, they cannot enter; if someone is not wearing gloves, they cannot enter and I will be very strict about this”.

She indicated that they should sit around the table, each on a stool.

“Lesson number two: know what materials are available. In the drawer in front of your seat there are: a small shovel, tweezers, garden shears, a spray and a brush”.

She left a moment for everyone to rummage through their drawers and continued.

“You are also responsible for the material. Before and after a class everyone should check that they have everything and put them in the drawer. I want you to write down the date and the list of your material.”

Everyone was silent, clearly confused about what they were doing. Kate went around the table, giving some directions and helping those who seemed to need it.

“Lesson number three: know what you are going to do.” As she waved her wand, the books placed on the table flew to each student.

“Today we’ll focus on the first part of Lesson Five: recognising soil types. This was part of the last test, and it’s clear that I didn’t prepare you enough for it. It’s important that you know how to do this because it’s fundamental. Make a note of the purpose of this practical class. I would have liked to do this earlier, but... that’s the way it is.”

As the children opened their books and whispered to each other, Kate handed out a tray with three small pots of different types of soil. Each with a label with a letter: A, B and C.

“Try to identify the three pots with the help of the book.” She said when she finished.

“Ah!” a little girl, Greta Eberhardt exclaimed. “There’s something in my pot!”

“It’s called earth, silly.” Replied her partner.

Kate came over to inspect Greta’s tray. Something bright blue was buried. She took one of the tweezers from the table and pulled it out.

“It’s a billywig. See the wings coming out of its head? Don’t worry; it’s dead.”

Not only did the wings catch the children’s attention but also the long, pointed sting of the torso.

She stared at the insect for a long time and looked up when it became silent in the greenhouse. Such discipline cannot be healthy, she thought, as she saw them reading or sticking their fingers in the pots without looking up.

“How quiet you are... I never said that you cannot work as a team.”

That evening Kate sat in her room drowned in pieces of parchment, both her students’ work and her notes from her mission.

She returned her attention to Vivien Argar, the name that was written on top of the paper, and sighed when she noticed that her assignment was two parchments longer than it should have been.

Kate put her quill down and pinched her nose, her thoughts returning to the Order. She considered Kent Jorgensen and wondered what kind of business he had going on with Leron Angelov.

Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions, letting her suspicions cloud the logic, but she could have sworn that they left the Great Hall together when Astrid Rhode was giving her speech. She never confirmed it.

Several taps on a glass caught her attention.

A red bird was standing outside the window and demanded to enter the room.

“Fawkes?” She hurried to the window and opened it, allowing the phoenix to enter. He circled her and screeched while she closed the window again.

“I know, I know! How demanding…” Kate grabbed a blank piece of parchment off the floor, made a ball with it and set it on fire before conjuring it to be suspended in the air at ground level.

Fawkes cuddled up near it and let out a grateful tweet.

“What do you have in there?” She said, noticing the roll of paper that Fawkes guarded in his claws. She tried to grab it but Fawkes hid it between his feathers, opened his beak and stayed that way for a while.

Kate rolled her eyes and walked to the closet to look for the small bowl where she kept a roll of spellotape and some quill tips.

She emptied it and conjured some water before bringing it to an impatient Fawkes. He lowered his head in a small reverence and extended his open claw for Kate to inspect.

“Always want something in return, huh? It is true that pets are like their masters…” Fawkes huffed and sipped from his water, ignoring her.

She unrolled the tube to find two pieces of parchment. The first one had a short sentence.

Trust him in the woods.

“Great. I didn’t have enough with what I had.” she complained out loud.

She unrolled the second paper, but to her disappointment it was blank.

She left the parchments on the bed and sat down at her desk again, trying to resume her work, but Fawkes got up and flew to her shoulder. He bit a strand of her hair and tugged.

“I don’t have anything for you to eat, Fawkes.” The phoenix ignored her comment and kept on pulling at her hair until she turned around.

“Alright, that’s quite enough!” Fawkes flew to the bed and stood on the blank parchment, tapping it several times with his beak.

Kate took a deep breath before approaching the bird.

She grabbed her wand and pointed at the paper before murmuring ‘Revelio’.

A black line started to appear, drawing an uneven path that rounded the parchment and ended in the same spot that started. A cross appeared in the upper corner of the deformed oval. It wasn’t a circle or any geometrical figure; it looked like…

“A map.” she whispered. The question was, a map of what? The figure consisted in a single contorted line. There was nothing inside of it, just a cross. She turned around again and winced at the sight of her desk. With a flick of the wrist, all the pieces of parchment of the table flew around to settle down in tidy piles on one side of the desk.

She let herself fall backwards onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

With only one candle flickering in the room, the darkened atmosphere made her want to close her eyes, and she did, letting her exhaustion take over her.

[Part 11]

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mrslittletall · 4 years

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Title: A Storm is coming (Chapter 28) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein Word Count: 7.115 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603610/chapters/60837541 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/620106785321369600/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-27-fandom-dark

Summary: Tempest and Ornstein are venturing into the Oolacile Township in search of the key that opens the path to Gough.

(Author's note: It feels like it has been a while. Simply put, I was finishing up some requests and couldn't write as much on Storm as well as I was a bit uninspired, because I had to play through the game again and take notes. I now finally managed to do it (had to put the game offline because of all the invaders) and could write out the next chapter. Please enjoy!)

“It looks like the town has been swallowed by an earthquake.”, Tempest murmured, walking behind Ornstein.

“In a sense, this is what happened.”, Ornstein said as he went down the stairs right in front of them. “The township got swallowed by the abyss. It won't take long anymore and no living being will be able to even walk here anymore. We are only able because the abyss hasn't spread too far yet.”

Right after Ornstein had finished his explanation, he turned around and stabbed a dark coloured creature with too long limbs and too many eyes. It looked identical to the one that Artorias had killed before they had fought him, Tempest noticed.

“How did you know it was there?”, Tempest asked.

“I still remember a lot about this place. I have ventured into it after everything had been over. Back then, Sif was at my side. Or more, this will still happen. Speaking about Sif, we should look out for her. She hasn't been at Artorias' or Ciaran's side.”

“Sif..”, Tempest said and then clapped his hands. “Oh, Artorias' wolf companion! I guess something like a wolf isn't too easy to overlook.”

“Still, keep an eye out for her.”, Ornstein said and stopped in front of a few stairs. On their left was a roof of a sunken house. “Little Storm, step up on there.”, Ornstein said, pointing at it.

“Why?”, Tempest said and climbed on the roof. Right as he was on top of it, he learned just why Ornstein wanted him up there. Down there were a full four of these creatures with the awful bloated head. Bloathead! That would be the name Tempest would give them from now on.

“I lure them in and take the ones in the front and then you plunge on the ones in the back.”, Ornstein said. “Luckily they aren't very intelligent, having gone completely mad.”

The bloatheads only felt the need to confirm Ornstein's word by pointing and snickering at each other. Tempest didn't question Ornstein's choice of words... it was pretty obvious that these bloatheads once must have been the population of Oolacile, having been corrupted by the abyss. Technically, they were like hollows, there was no way for them to ever come back.

“I am ready, Ornstein.”, Tempest whispered and ducked down on the roof, sword in both hands.

“Good.”, Ornstein whispered back and then headed down the stairs with wide strides, readying his spear. As soon as the bloatheads heard his steps, all four of them charged. Ornstein impaled the two on the front on his spear and Tempest dropped down, sinking his sword in one of the bloathead's head... but missing the other! Damn, he should have taken this in account, Tempest and his weapon were far smaller, even the bloatheads towered over him. As Tempest still was busy trying to get his sword out of the swollen head, the last bloathead raised its claws to swipe at him. Tempest gasped and freed his sword by sheer force, only to stumble and crash against the wall behind him. As Tempest waited for the claws to come down, hands already on his Estus, the bloathead suddenly stopped moving and looked down in confusion, screaming in pain once it noticed the tip of a spear through his chest.

“That was dangerous, little Storm.”, Ornstein said. “My apologies, I should have known that you wouldn't have been big enough to plunge attack two of them.”

Tempest, still sitting there with his sword clutched in one hand and the other on his Estus, slowly stood up. “Thank you, Ornstein.”, he said.

“Don't mention it.”, Ornstein said. “Let's move on. And keep an eye out for the key and Sif.”

Tempest nodded and followed Ornstein who turned to the left. He stopped briefly in front of a dome with a tile, stepped on it and when nothing happened, he mumbled: “Inactive, of course...”

“Oh, is that an elevator like in the gardens?”, Tempest asked and Ornstein nodded his head, a nearly unnoticeable shift in his posture, but Tempest had spend enough time at Ornstein's side now to know that it was a nod.

As they went down more stairs, Tempest said: “Isn't it strange that the town sunk in a way that the stairs perfectly line up? How great is the chance of that happening?”

“We don't have to agonize our brains about this fact.”, Ornstein said. “Just be grateful for this coincidence. If not for the stairs, we would have been forced to climb down. That would have been very difficult with my arm.”

“How is it, by the way?”, Tempest asked, eyeing Ornstein's left arm. He knew that Ornstein was able to move it, so it was not broken, but Tempest had seen the wound and it was a bad one. It must hurt a lot and Ornstein was keeping a straight face. Or maybe he was clenching his teeth under this helmet of his and was merely keeping it together. For Tempest's sake.

“I'll live.”, Ornstein said. “I had more severe injuries, little Storm. It is a nuisance, nothing more.”

Tempest had the feeling that Ornstein wasn't telling the truth, but he didn't had any time to think more about it, because two more bloatheads came their way. Ornstein was taking down one of them and Tempest put himself in the way of the other, managing to take it down without taking a hit of its claws. It appeared that he truly was getting better at his whole fighting stuff.

“How comes it that you managed to take them down with one hit?”, Tempest asked as Ornstein removed his spear from the bloathead. The tip was more then coated in blood by now. Tempest had the feeling he could see tiny little abyssal sludge drip down from it too.

“I have been a knight for long enough to be able to attack the vital points with ease.”, Ornstein said. “You are still a bit more clumsy. You manage to hurt your foe, but you need to wound them several times until their wounds are life threatening. If you learn to strike at the vital points, you can end them far more quickly and easier and less painful.”

“I am impressed, Ornstein.”, Tempest smiled. “Even in your state and at this place, you still care about giving your adversary a clean death. You have to teach me how to do it.”

“Not really easy when there isn't anything to practice on.”, Ornstein murmured. “We can't just borrow the hollows from the archives... or could we...”

“Don't tell my you are considering it.”, Tempest laughed and then gasped as a ball of dark missed him by a beat, followed by snickering.

“A sorcerer.”, Ornstein said and readied his spear. “Leave it to me. Take out its friend.” Tempest slowly nodded and crept closer to his target as Ornstein was approaching the sorcerer. It was using a catalyst that Tempest had never seen before as well as the magic, he also never had seen it before. Sorceries were blue, pyromancy was red, but it was never dark purple.

As Ornstein was confronting the sorcerer, Tempest fought with his foe and tried to copy Ornstein by boring his sword right into a vital point, but he must have missed, because the bloathead only screeched and seemed to get angry. While his sword was stuck, Tempest quickly summoned a fireball and ended the sorry existence of the bloathead by burning its head off. Then he pulled his sword out and turned around, eyes falling onto something in a nearby building.

“Hey, Ornstein, there is something. Let me check it out.”, Tempest said.

“Little Storm, be careful.”, Ornstein said. “It could be a...”

Before Ornstein could finish his sentence, a hidden bloathead had charged at Tempest and dug its claws deep in his arm.

“...trap.”, Ornstein finished and then ran over to take care of the bloathead while Tempest was busy fiddling with his Estus.

“Oh, ouch.”, Tempest said as the claw marks closed, sometimes the closing of the wounds was hurting more than actually receiving them. “I should have known better, Ornstein. Once again you saved me.”

“Has getting injured at least been worth it?”, Ornstein asked.

Tempest looked at the corpse next to him and determined that the shining thing he had seen was a floating soul. “Poor guy.”, Tempest said. “Probably has been lured into the trap.” He then put the soul into his dark sign and stood up.

“...I will never get used seeing that.”, Ornstein said. Tempest looked at him with wide eyes before realization dawned.

“Oh, putting or removing souls in the dark sign? Believe me, Ornstein, it feels a lot worse than it looks like. It tries so desperately to cling onto anything you put in there, that removing souls is downright painful. If Undead are comfortable enough with each other, they can trade souls by touching each other, but letting your dark sign be touched feels super awkward, so I normally prefer to get them out, even though it hurts.”, Tempest rambled.

“I didn't need such a detailed explanation, little Storm.”, Ornstein said and then headed to the stairs leading down, but Tempest stopped him.

“Wait, Ornstein, there leads a path around that building!”, he said. “We are searching for Sif and the key, right? Shouldn't we search it off the beaten path?”

“You have a point.”, Ornstein said and followed Tempest. “Even though I haven't been here back then, please let me go first.”

“Of course.”, Tempest stepped to the side and let Ornstein take the lead.

The path was narrow and just wide enough for Ornstein to barely fit there. Tempest felt a bit of nausea as he looked down, that would be a deadly fall for sure. Of course he would just come back, but the impact would still hurt. Dying from falling of great heights was one of the most awful ways to die. He practically could feel how every bone in his body shattered and his organs ruptured. Alone the thought made Tempest gag and he put a hand in front of his mouth. He might only be able to vomit up the little Estus he had, but nonetheless, it would be uncomfortable.

On their way around the building only one other bloathead waited which Ornstein disposed off quickly and then the path ended.

“Dead end.”, Ornstein said, but Tempest nudged on Ornstein's thumb and pointed down.

“We can fall down and investigate there.”, he said.

“We won't come back that easily anymore then.”, Ornstein said.

“Nonsense, Ornstein, you can just jump back up.”, Tempest said with a smile.

“True...”, Ornstein said and dropped down. Or more, Tempest dropped down, for Ornstein it was more like climbing down a layer.

They continued to round another building until some wooden planks leading into a building to the right came to view. Tempest opened his mouth to inform Ornstein about it, but the knight just kept walking. Confused, Tempest followed him.

“Where are you going?”, Tempest asked.

“I want to check if there is an entrance to the building we are currently orbiting.”, Ornstein said.

They soon had to stop, no entrance in sight, but an orange soap stone message. Tempest rolled his eyes as he said: “That is better not another one of these 'try jumping' messages.”

“You Undead surely have a sense of humour.”, Ornstein chuckled.

“What is funny about sending people to their death?”, Tempest yelled. “What is written on the message?”

“Let there be light...”, Ornstein said.

“Huh, never had one of these before.”, Tempest shrugged. “Must be some new code or something.” Tempest already had turned around and was about to leave, but got hindered by Ornstein applying a slight pressure on his shoulder.

“Little Storm, you still have the skull lantern, right?”, he asked.

“The one from the catacombs? Sure.”, Tempest said and searched in his bag until he found the desired item. “Aha, there it is! But why do you need it, Ornstein? It's bright enough.”

“Shine it on that wall.”, Ornstein prompted.

Tempest shrugged again, but stepped forward to shine the light on the wall, gasping as an entrance appeared. “Well, that's new!”

“I knew it.”, Ornstein said with a hint of triumph in his voice. “This kind of illusion could only be made by an Oolacile sorcerer or someone who knows how to wield their sorceries. They have quite a repertoire of spells like this.”

“That's all fine and good, Ornstein, but now I want to know just what was so important to have been hidden behind an illusionary wall that can only be broken by light.” Without awaiting Ornstein's answer, Tempest went into the room. He could only spot a single chest and gave it a careful nudge with his sword before opening it, finding only a small silver pendant inside of it.

“That's all?”, Tempest said. “Just a pendant? Hm, this shape looks familiar...”

“But...”, Ornstein said, voice quivering. “Why is it here?!”

“Ornstein, you know what that is?”, Tempest said, turning around to Ornstein, dangling the pendant in front of his face.

“That pendant... was given to Artorias.”, Ornstein said. “It has a special power. It can ward off the dark sorceries, the ones we have seen earlier. It is protection against the sorceries of the abyss. Why is it here? Artorias should have had it.”

“Maybe he lost it?”, Tempest suggested. “And one of the Oolacile sorcerers picked it up and hid it to sell later? You said the illusion was Oolacile magic, right?”

“I want to believe that, little Storm, I really want, but...”, Ornstein took a deep breath. “Artorias was able to use rudimentary Oolacile sorceries too. That illusion wasn't very complicated... but why... just why should Artorias leave the thing behind that should protect him? Unless...”

Tempest looked at Ornstein in anticipation. He was right, it didn't make sense. Also, even if Artorias had lost the pendant, would he have just given up the search for it?

“...unless he never intended to fight.”, Ornstein finished.

“But... why shouldn't Artorias want to fight?”, Tempest said, looking from the pendant to Ornstein. “He was tasked with slaying the beast of the abyss, wasn't he? And even if he didn't want to fight, bringing the pendant with him wouldn't have been a sign of ill will. It was for protection, not offense.”

“Yes... you are right, little Storm, this doesn't make any sense.”, Ornstein said, raising his left arm to rest a hand on his helmet only to carefully remove it and let it dangle loosely at his side again. “I am reading too much in this. It probably got stolen from him and he couldn't find it, then decided that he could take on the beast without help.”

“Shall we take it with us?”, Tempest asked.

“Yes, it will help against the dark sorceries. Hold it in both hands and concentrate on the magic within, then you can summon forth a barrier for one or two seconds, even if you haven't an affinity for the sorceries.”

“So, no key, but a pendant.”, Tempest said and hung the pendant onto his belt, next to his Estus flask. “Where to now?”

“There was an entrance earlier into another building.”, Ornstein said. “Let's go there.”

Tempest nodded and followed Ornstein, cursing as another dark ball almost hit the two of them. Or more, Ornstein dodged out of the way in the last second, dragging Tempest with him and then stabbing the bloathead sorcerer into one of its too many eyes. Ornstein then sunk down, breathing heavily.

“You alright, Ornstein?”, Tempest asked as he scurried back to his feet.

“I am... fine.”, Ornstein said. “Just need a moment. That hurt.”

Tempest nodded in understanding, that must have been quite a strain on Ornstein's injured arm. Tempest decided to scout out the area. He had hold onto the pendant just in case, but he was more than glad that he did, because a row of orbs was about to rain down on him. He had enough finesse to activate the pendant's powers which let a silver shiver appear around him and indeed cancel out all the dark magic.

“Amazing!”, Tempest said, backing away, staring at the pendant. Such a powerful tool and Artorias had either locked it away or lost it? It was hardly believable.

“What have you seen down there?”, Ornstein asked, standing up.

“Two more sorcerer.”, Tempest said. “Are you sure you can move on, Ornstein?”

“Yes.”, Ornstein said, stepping nearer to the stairs. “Little Storm, I could need your help... Go first and use the pendant to cancel out their attacks, so that I can use an opening to attack.”

“I will try my best.”, Tempest said and clutched the pendant, slowly moving forwards, trying not to think how much it would hurt when he messed up the timing.

To his surprise, everything went well. When exactly had he become competent? Though, Tempest didn't want to imagine how hard it would have been to traverse the township without Ornstein at his side. Then he probably would have died at least ten times already. He also would never had discovered the pendant. Tempest asked himself if it would have been possible to take on this duo of sorcerers without the pendant.

“Three chests are here.”, Ornstein said. “But only one of them is still closed.”

“Maybe it's a mimic?”, Tempest asked.

“No, not this one.”, Ornstein said. “Can you take a look inside, little Storm?”

“Sure...”, Tempest came closer and even though Ornstein had sounded sincere about it not being a mimic, he nudged it with his sword before opening the lid. He then produced a single scroll from the chest and unfolded.

“Woah.”, Tempest said.

“What is written on it?”, Ornstein asked.

“It's a sorcery. It is called Dark Orb and it looks like the thing that sorcerers have thrown at us. It is explained in full detail how to use it.”, Tempest shuddered. “Alone holding that scroll feels wrong.”

“Damn, so that is how the dark sorceries managed to escape into the world.”, Ornstein sighed.

“Ornstein, what is the dark sorcery?”, Tempest asked, sitting down next to the chest.

“It's the magic of the abyss.”, Ornstein said. “It's hard to put, but... little Storm, you know about the four souls, right?”

“Of course!”, Tempest said. “Everyone does! Life and death, light and dark!”

“The dark soul it is... the source of the abyss.”, Ornstein said. “You use humanity sprites to reverse your hollowing, little Storm. Now imagine what would happen when you would use ten of them at once.”

“Uh...”, Tempest said. “I don't think I would appear human anymore...”

“That is what happened to Oolacile.”, Ornstein sighed. “The abyss is the dark, but in such a potency that not even bearers of the dark soul are save against corruption. The monsters we have fought against... all of them were once citizens of this city.”

“I know.”, Tempest said in a whisper. “I already knew that they were hollow...”

“You are taking this surprisingly lightly.”, Ornstein said.

“All this stuff has already happened, right?”, Tempest said, standing up, pocketing the scroll. “There is no need to dwell in the past. I just hope that we learned from it.”

Ornstein whispered something that Tempest couldn't hear.

“What was that, Ornstein?”, he asked.

“Oh, uh, nothing.”, Ornstein said. “Little Storm, we haven't found anything important here. Let's head back.”

“Wait.”, Tempest said. “I want to take a look at this corpse!”

“Why?”, Ornstein said.

“I am interested if they have anything valuable with them.”, Tempest said. “Besides, who knows if one of them has the key we are searching for?”

“You have a point.”, Ornstein said and leaned against the wall as Tempest was checking out the pockets of the dead sorcerer and thoroughly investigated their catalyst.

“Look at their heads.”, Tempest said and put both hands around it, lifting it from the ground. “They are so swollen, it wouldn't surprise me when they have put stuff in their heads.”

“Now I doubt that, little Storm.”, Ornstein said.

“Haha, true, I was just kidding.”, Tempest said and wanted to let the head fall back onto the ground, but before he could open his hands, the body fell away on its own, leaving Tempest standing there with only the head.

“Oh, ew!”, he screeched and yanked the head on the ground.

“You wanted to take a look at them, little Storm.”, Ornstein said, completely unfazed.

“I didn't had a clue they would lose their heads.”, Tempest said and then curiosity hit and he went nearer to the severed head, expecting to see nothing but blood and gore inside, but to his surprise, the head indeed was hollow.

“Woah.”, Tempest said. “You could even stick your own head into there. Of course, I don't have a clue who ever would want to do that. You need to be a special kind of crazy to even consider that.”

“Let me guess, there are no keys in there.”, Ornstein said.

“No keys.”, Tempest confirmed. “Let's head back.”

As Ornstein already went up the stairs, Tempest saw an exit to the house he hadn't seen earlier. He stepped out only to see a jump that wasn't doable for him. For Ornstein it might have been possible, but in case he would fail, there was a really deep drop, so Tempest decided to save this place for later, should they even need to check it.

“Don't dawdle, little Storm.”, Ornstein said, waiting in the middle of the house, next to another exit.

“Huh, should we check that out?”, Tempest asked.

“It won't hurt.”, Ornstein said.

“Speaking of hurt, how is your arm?”, Tempest asked as the stepped out on another small ledge and started to surround the building.

“I'll live.”, Ornstein once again said.

“Alright, but tell me when it gets worse, yes?”, Tempest said, not expecting any reply and he also didn't get any. They reached the end of the narrow pathway in silence with a bloathead sorcerer turning their back to them. “Oh, perfect...”, Tempest whispered and drove his sword deep into its back, the sorcerer going out without ever knowing what hit it.

“See, if you aim for the vital points, it is so much more effective.”, Ornstein said.

“Well, that was easy.”, Tempest said. “That one wasn't moving.” His gaze then fell on something in the hand of the bloathead. He bend down and picked up a piece of wood, it looked like someone had processed it. “What's that?”, he said, staring into the patterns of the mask, yeah, it looked like a mask.

“Oh, one of Gough's carvings.”, Ornstein said. “I guess some of the citizens bought them from him. Hmm... what was it again? Throw it on the ground, then we know.”

“Why should I do that?”, Tempest asked but complied and threw the mask on the ground, flinching when a low but gentle voice called out “I'm sorry”.

“Ah, the one for apologies.”, Ornstein said, seemingly satisfied with himself. “Gough loved to occupy his hands with whittling, he would always pour a bit of himself in every piece.”

“But... how...”, Tempest said, trying to get back his composure. “It did talk, Ornstein.”, he said, giving the dragon slayer a side glance. He was talking about this mask as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“It's Gough's feeling that went into that mask.”, Ornstein said. “That is why we can hear his voice.”

Ornstein then averted his gaze and went back into the building without saying another word. Tempest only assumed that he dragon slayer had to face his feelings regarding Gough, another one of those that he lost and would be forced to see again, knowing that he couldn't change his inevitable fate.

“...Do you mind when I hold onto that?”, Tempest asked once he had hurried after Ornstein.

“No...”, Ornstein said. “I always wished I had taken some of them with me back then...”

Knowing that this conversation would only open up wounds, Tempest let the subject rest and followed Ornstein until they were back at the beginning. Ornstein kneeled down and let Tempest climb him to get back up, the small Undead paid extra attention to not jostle Ornstein's left arm, and then Ornstein jumped up himself.

After they were back at their original location, Tempest squinted at a chest at the end of some stairs, it was sitting in the middle of a round platform, wide open. Tempest immediately didn't trust this chest. At least there was only one bloathead on the stairs which Ornstein took care of without trouble, but then Tempest heard the sound of another Undead arriving.

“Wait.”, he said and then whispered. “I haven't touched a white soapstone sign...”

“Then it can only mean that we get attacked.”, Ornstein whispered back. Tempest turned around to look at the one who was so dumb to invade him while Ornstein protected him and gasped as he recognized the silhouette.

“Chester!”, he blurted out.

“Someone you know?”, Ornstein asked.

“He was hanging around the coliseum.”, Tempest said, ducking as Chester used a crossbow to fire three bolts in rapid succession. “He was kinda awkward to talk to, so I didn't do it much...”

Ornstein sighed and charged at Chester, his spear ready, but Chester simply lowered his crossbow and evaded the attack with ease, leaving Ornstein surprised. Seldom had he seen someone who could keep up with his speed. Tempest used the opportunity that Ornstein had given him and tried to cut down Chester with a two handed slash, but before he could even reach him, Tempest lost the ground under his feet and fell. Chester apparently had tripped him up.

“That guy is fast.”, Tempest said as he scrambled back on his legs, seeing how Ornstein avoided another flurry of bolts.

“Little Storm, let's try a pincer attack.”, Ornstein said. Tempest gave Ornstein a nod and made space between them, intending to attack Chester from the left while Ornstein was coming from the right. It was more than a surprise for the both of them when Chester jumped up and landed behind them, both of them struggling to stop their attacks to not accidentally hurt each other (or kill, Tempest doubted that he would have survived that blow of Ornstein's spear). As Tempest turned around, he saw that Chester had his crossbow loaded again, aimed at Ornstein who currently was standing there, holding his arm, having jostled it when he tried to not kill Tempest.

Tempest didn't think, he just ran and put himself between the bolts and Ornstein. Getting impaled by three of them hurt like hell, one landed in his shoulder, one in his upper arm and one in his chest, but gladly seemed to miss the most vital organs. Tempest still felt a cough coming and tasted blood, his lung was pierced for sure.

“Little Storm.”, Ornstein cried and then charged at Chester, driving his spear deep into his chest, red smoke billowing from him. Chester tried to fire his crossbow again, but Ornstein put his whole weight on Chester and stepped on him once he was down, pulling the weapon out of the phantom and slashing over his face. After that, the phantom vanished.

In the meantime, Tempest had found his Estus and after taking two sips of it, the bolts had fallen out of his body and the wounds were closed. Still, Tempest never wanted to have the experience of being impaled by three bolts ever again.

“We don't even have time for this.”, Ornstein grumbled. “Are you alright, little Storm?”

Tempest raised both his hands and gave Ornstein a thumbs up with a wide smile. “Yes, I am fine. Let's move on.”

“Why did you protect me, little Storm?”, Ornstein asked as they went down the stairs.

“Isn't that obvious, Ornstein?”, Tempest said, his eyes going wide. “I can't die.”

“But... every death is eating at your humanity.”, Ornstein said. “Aren't you afraid? What happens when one day you come back hollow...?”

Tempest couldn't help but smile at Ornstein. He was worried about him. The dragon slayer didn't admit it, but they had become friends. Tempest surely would have loved for it to be something more, but just knowing that he cared... that was enough. It should be enough. It had to be enough.

“I won't go hollow as long as you are with me, Ornstein.”, Tempest said. The dragon slayer fell quiet for quite some time before he suddenly spoke again.

“So, do you know why that... Chester was invading you? Did you say something to upset him?”

Tempest shrugged. “I don't know.”, he said. “Maybe he was pissed because I didn't buy much? His stuff was totally overpriced. I just didn't want to make him mad. Guess I did. Or he was bored. Or frustrated. He said that he also was coming from another time...”

“Huh, another one who got brought here...”, Ornstein said. “Anyway, he doesn't seem to be important. Back then, Ciaran and Gough told me that the Undead they encountered wasn't wearing a mask.” Ornstein glanced down at Tempest. “Because they probably spoke about you, that matches up.”

“It's so wild to think about that Ciaran and Gough have met me before I have met you, Ornstein.”, Tempest said. “Getting thrown back in time sure is weird.”

“At least you don't have to worry for anyone recognizing you.”, Ornstein sighed. They had arrived down at the platform and Tempest was heading over to the chest to give it a good hit. Of course it stood up and started to snicker.

“Oh, have you learned to spot mimics now?”, Ornstein said, coming nearer to help Tempest with the fight, who was currently dodging a flurry of kicks.

“Come on, Ornstein, that was obvious.”, Tempest said, cutting the mimic into the arm. “A chest in plain sight in the middle of a very alluring looking platform? That had to be a fake.”

“Very well observed.”, Ornstein cut one of the mimic's legs with his spear while Tempest was driving his sword deep into the mimic's tongue as it had tried to grab him. “This mimic surely chose a poor spot waiting for travellers.”

Once the mimic laid on the ground, it coughed up another mask. Without hesitating, Tempest threw the mask on the ground, to hear “very good” ringing out.

“Aw, thank you.”, he said and bowed. “Wait, why am I talking to a mask?!”, he yelled and picked it up. “These things are strangely endearing.”, he said as he glanced to Ornstein.

“I know. If you want more of them, Gough sells them.”

Tempest briefly asked himself, if Gough had a mask that would say “I love you”, but he probably wouldn't get it anyway. He knew that Ornstein wasn't liking him back in that way. Besides, they had other stuff to worry about. Getting back to their own time for example. And treating Ornstein's wound. His mental state probably also wasn't the best, but the dragon slayer was moving on as if he hadn't had to witness the death of his best friend by the hands of the one he had to protect. Tempest could only imagine what kind of whirlwind of emotions was brewing in Ornstein right now. By acting as the leader and captain of their venture, Ornstein probably tried to distract himself from everything.

The duo moved on and after a few more foes and one sorcerer who was mean enough to stand at the end of a narrow pathway and even had the guts to laugh when Tempest managed to get hit by their magic. One bloathead later, they stood in front of a rather large building.

“It seems like we are pretty deep now.”, Tempest said.

“Still no key in sight.”, Ornstein murmured. “Just where is it hidden?”

“Why are you so sure that it is here, Ornstein?”, Tempest asked.

“Gough said that the Oolacile citizens had locked that door. He simply was fine with it, because... you probably know that giants were mocked and feared because of their brutish behaviour... Gough was never one of them, but they still hurt him horribly. He told me that he cherished the solitude without the fear of being wronged again.”

“But we are going to open up that door.”, Tempest said.

“That is why I want to find the key. So we can lock it again when we leave.”

Tempest nodded and moved on, closely behind Ornstein, who peeked around the corner in the building. “That reeks like a trap.”, Ornstein whispered. “Let us enter it and be prepared for the worst.”

Tempest nodded and once they were in, they were attacked instantly by a bloathead. Tempest rushed forward to help Ornstein, who for a change, seemed to struggle, but had to turn around and engage in combat with another bloathead that dropped down from the upper level to not let Ornstein been caught in a pincer attack.

Once Tempest's foe was down, he looked at Ornstein, who held his left arm and panted.

“Does it hurt?”, Tempest asked, worry shining in his big, blue eyes.

“It's fine.”, Ornstein said. “Just accidentally tried to take my spear in both hands. I am fine.”

Are you?, Tempest asked himself, wandering around the building in search of more bloatheads, but he only found some rubbish.

“Where to now?”, Tempest asked. Ornstein had already moved to the left of the room, looking down some stairs.

“Well, that is the trap I was anticipating.”, Ornstein said and Tempest knew instantly what he meant. The room down there was full of bloatheads.

“I guess I use my bow...”, Tempest said. “I may not be able to take them out, but I can at least lure them out.”

“Good idea, but don't alert the sorcerers.”, Ornstein said. Tempest nodded and found a spot at the top of the stairs, couching there, fiddling with his arrows and then shooting two in quick succession, one of them hitting a bloathead in the arm and the other one missing, falling onto the ground with a clank.

“Now they definitely know we are there.”, Tempest said and hold his breath, anticipating if their plan worked or if they would get rained down by dark sorceries. They seemed to be in luck, because the two bloatheads started running up the stairs and apparently that they were gone, didn't seem to interest the others.

“Here they come.”, Tempest said after he released his breath and Ornstein waited on top of the stairs, shoving his spear through the heads of both bloatheads at once, blood and goo coming out of them.

“Disgusting.”, Ornstein said, working on removing his spear as Tempest felt the air flicker around him and didn't move out of the way fast enough, his left arm got a nasty dark burn once the sorcery had hit him.

“Ow.”, Tempest growled. “Why does this burn? It isn't even a pyromancy.”

“It seems like you alerted one of the sorcerers.”, Ornstein said, coming over and looking down next to Tempest, where indeed a sorcerer was laughing and preparing a new spell.

“Out of the way, little Storm!”, Ornstein yelled and yanked Tempest out of the danger zone, a dark fog which looked extremely uncomfortable.

“What is that?!”, Tempest said, eyes wide. He never had seen a sorcery like that before.

“Nothing good, that is for sure.”, Ornstein said and then barely avoided another dark orb that got shot at them from the right. “What the...”

“The other one noticed us!”, Tempest gasped and fumbled for his bow, ignoring the pain in his arm, he could heal it later. Loading an arrow into the bow and spraining it, aiming, Tempest murmured: “Please hit.” as he let go. The arrow turned out to be a bullseye, because the sorcerer fell down the beam they had been standing on. “Success!”, Tempest jumped up, but Ornstein was fixated on the stairs.

“Little Storm, the others have seen us. Quick, let's go down and take them out. Take care of the sorcerer that is trying to end us from behind the stairs.”

Tempest only nodded and followed Ornstein, arrow already in his bow, aiming and once they were down, Ornstein charged into the bloatheads that just wanted to come up the stairs and Tempest narrowly avoided another dark orb before planting an arrow directly into the chest of the sorcerer. Unfortunately it wasn't a deadly wound, so he dropped his bow in favour of his sword and went into close combat, getting another painful wound as he slashed the sorcerer into bits.

Once Tempest was done, he looked for Ornstein who was leaning against a pillar, two more bloatheads were laying dead a few feet away from him and his spear was coated with blood. Ornstein seemed to be short of breath, so Tempest went over and asked: “Ornstein, do you need a break?”

“No.”, Ornstein said without hesitating. “Let's move on.”

It wouldn't surprise Tempest when Ornstein would manage to get sick once they were done. He was already hurt, he was pushing himself too hard. However, Tempest knew two things. Once, Ornstein would keep to his duty and follow him to the world's end and second, Tempest would be unable to slay the beast of the Abyss on his own. Well, maybe after hundred deaths, but without Ornstein at his side hollowing would await him sooner or later...

Tempest didn't want to think about this and instead searched the room. He found several exits, one led up some stairs farther into the building and two let back outside, the township even more garbled and full of abyss sludge than before. He even found a sorcery scroll, which read Dark Fog and as Tempest read the description about the spell, he was more than glad that it hadn't hit him.

“So, there are several paths.”, Tempest said once he came back to Ornstein, who had straightened himself up. “I would advise to go into the door right to the stairs next. It seems to lead to the rest of the house.”

Ornstein nodded and started walking without saying another word. Tempest silently followed him. The both of them landed in some kind of attic and Tempest was a bit disappointed, because the path led outside again, but it turned out, that it was simply a balcony. A bloathead was hidden there which Ornstein for once didn't manage to kill in one hit, so Tempest ran over and finished the job.

“You are sure you don't need a break, Ornstein?”, Tempest tried once again, only for the stubborn dragon slayer to shake his head. Tempest sighed and leaned against he wall, spotting a treasure chest from the corner of his eyes. “Hey, Ornstein, there is another chest. Maybe this one finally has the key we search. But... I don't think we will get to it from here.”

“Think about this logically, little Storm.”, Ornstein said and his breath was definitely coming shorter. “There is another entrance a little up. From there, we should be able to reach the room.”

“Makes sense...”, Tempest said and just as Ornstein said, they could drop down easily from the room higher up. Tempest went to the chest straight away, but stopped in front of it, frowning.

“Just to be sure.”, he said and gave it a smack with his sword. How Ornstein actually could find out if a chest was a mimic or not by sight alone, he didn't knew, but he was glad that he tested it, because the chest actually turned out to be a mimic!

“Oh, that just had to be true.”, Tempest sighed and prepared himself to fight he chest, getting kicked directly into the face once and one time almost eaten, he only managed to prevent this fate by slashing the tongue of the mimic, which made it howl in pain and splattered hot blood down on Tempest. Only when he had worn the mimic down by cutting at its legs constantly and the moment that Ornstein's spear came out between its teeth, did Tempest notice, that he mostly had fought on his own.

The mimic dropped down and coughed out... a key!

“Ornstein, is that it?!”, Tempest held the key up, eyes glowing in excitement. He would be able to meet Gough. ...He also would be forced to kill a dragon though, so Tempest's excitement went a bit away.

“Yes, that is the key.”, Ornstein said. “Who would have thought a mimic had stolen it?! And so far in. Let's head back.”

The duo went back to the big room which was still littered with bloathead corpses. Ornstein was heading to the stairs, but Tempest nudged him and pointed to the exit.

“...I have scouted this area earlier and there was a shortcut.”, he murmured.

“Oh, of course, I completely forgot about this.”, Ornstein said, a hand at his forehead which he quickly lowered down again, because it was his injured arm.

A few minutes later they both stood in front of the door to Gough's tower, Tempest looking at the key in his hands. “So, I go up there, introduce myself and ask him if he shoots the dragon for me?”, he asked.

“Yes, pretty much.”, Ornstein said. “As with Ciaran, I will stay out of side. They can't know that I am here. Don't mention me.”

Tempest nodded and the key creaked in the lock. He took a deep breath and strode through it, bracing himself to meet even the last knight of Gwyn. (Author's note: I hope you are all ready for Gough and Kalameet in the next chapter! Please write me your thoughts about this chapter into the comments.) Chapter 29

#dark souls #fanfiction #dragon slayer ornstein #chosen undead #oc tempest #orndead #littlewritesstuff

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the-space-above-the-stars · 5 years

Text

shut up, this is a library

na jaemin x reader

summary: You work at the school library, which comes with the unfortunate repercussions of having to deal with Na Jaemin, the captain of the soccer team and incredibly gorgeous school flirt who finds fun in teasing you.

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff

A/N: this is my last one part story coming out because I have a new series starting soon that I’m v excited for!

The SMU library was located just west of the quad, hard to miss. The building had a domed top, complete with a sun-roof, and every inch of the walls were lined with books. Any kid at the campus had been there more than once to cram for a test, or finish an assignment, or in the cases of some people you knew, get some sleep in order to avoid an annoying roommate.

You were a psychology major, and while that led to a pretty packed schedule, your professor, being absolutely great, never held class on Fridays. So every Friday afternoon, you put on your name tag and went to work at the library, checking out books, helping worried students in a rush to finish a research paper, and finishing up shelving books.

You pushed the thin metal frame of your glasses higher up your nose as you finished loading the cart with newly returned books that had to be shelved. The librarian was taking a sick leave, leaving you with one other worker who was late again. With a good push, the old cart finally moved, just in time as the bell at the front desk rang. Why they had a bell was a real mystery. “Coming,” you called, wheeling the cart out of the back room. “How can I- oh, it’s you again.”

There’s another aspect of this job that’s as predictable as the anxiety-riddled kids and your coworker being late, and that was Na Jaemin, who decided to drop in every week, well, to be more exact, every Friday just to talk you up. He flashes you the smile that you’ve basically memorized based on how many times you’ve seen it, his soccer bag thrown over one shoulder as he leans over the desk. “Hey cutie,” he winks and you have to physically restrain yourself from throttling him. “Come around here often?” His unapologetically loud tone catches the attention of more than a few people, whose eyes are now trained on the school flirt trying to sweet talk the library worker.

“I work here, dumbass, you’ve seen me here for the past 12 weeks.”

“And I think I speak for both of us when I say it’s been the highlight of our week.” Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head as you walk past him with the cart. “SO I saw you at my game last week. Checking me out on the field?”

“Don’t over-inflate your ego, balloon boy.” He’s incessant, walking along as you shelve books. “I was there with Mina, she has a crush on Jeno, he likes her too, I’m trying to get them together, keep up. Besides, you’re not much to watch on the field.”

“I made 6 goals, gorgeous,” he defends, grabbing the book you’re reaching for and sliding it into it’s place.

“You know, you’d be more help if you actually checked books out. If your cult following saw you at the library, maybe they’d come too. Actually study for once.”

“Ooh, is this you trying to spend more time with me?” He wiggles his eyebrows and you wack him with a book.

“What the fuck, no, why would I want to see more of-” you trail off as you stand on your tippy toes to slide an economics book into it’s place, but it’s just out of reach. Jaemin, chuckling, takes it from you and puts it away with ease. “Beanpole,” you grumble.

“Shortcake.”

“Isn’t this the part of your visit where I reject you and you assure me you’ll win me over before you leave?”

“Usually, but I’m shifting things up a bit, routine is boring. Looks like you need some help shelving all these books and from what it looks like, you’re the only person working here. And you’re- somewhat vertically challenged, unlike me.”

“So what you’re saying,” you sighed, sidestepping him and stepping on your tip toes to slip another book into place. “Is that you serve the same purpose as a step stool?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” He deadpans, grabbing some books from your cart. “Like you said before, sweetheart, my cult following means more business for the library,”

“Okay, so how do I know you won’t just flirt with them as I do all the work?”

“Sugar, you’re the only girl I’m flirting with,” he winks and you roll your eyes, shoving him away. “Come on, I need some sort of reaction from you,” he whines and you clap a hand over his mouth.

“Shut up, this is a library.”

“And I’m flirting with you,”

“Really? I didn’t notice. You’re losing your touch, Na.” But he stays on your heels as you work your way around your library. “Look, you wanna work here? Talk to the librarian when she comes in tomorrow, she goes through potential applicants.”

“And what if I want a date with you?”

“Well I can’t make it too easy for you, now can I? Then it’s just boring.”

“Oh, so you’re admitting you like me?” And suddenly he’s too close, leaning over the other side of the cart with his face centimeters away from yours and the bookshelf pressed against your back. You scoff, looking away as you slip out of the small space. “Deny it all you want, princess, you know you love me.”

“I’d love to kick you in the-”

“Jaemin!” Haechan calls him from the entrance of the library, looking very stressed. “Come on, practice is starting soon!”

“Buzzkill,” Jaemin sighs, but still flashes you the same flirty grin. “You know where to find me, babe.”

“Great, so will the hit man I send after you.” With a roll of his eyes, another wink and a blown kiss, he mimes putting a phone up to his ear and mouthing “call me” before Haechan drags him out of the library, looking very exasperated. You finally allow your face to flush, leaning your forehead against the cold wood of the bookshelf. Na Jaemin, you’re going to be the death of me.

***

The next week, you make your way to the library again, being greeted by the librarian before heading to the back room again. “Hana, how much did you- you’re not Hana.” And suddenly it’s like a bad dream come to life because Na Jaemin’s shoveling book’s onto a cart with a smug smirk you’d like to slap off of his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You groan, dropping your bag onto a corner and pinching your arm to make sure this is real.

“Shut up, princess, this is a library,” he mocks, tossing a book at you. “Some girl came in asking for this, she should be still waiting at the desk.”

Sure enough, there’s a girl waiting for her copy of A Tale of Two Cities outside. She smiles slyly at you, leaning over the table as you scan her student ID. “Does Na Jaemin really work here now?”

“Yeah but-”

“Hey babe,” Jaemin pokes his head out. “Give me a hand with these?” The girl’s face drops, automatically pulling an assumption about the two of you as Jaemin grins and your face blushes bright red. You don’t look at her as you hand her the book, whacking Jaemin on the back of the head. “Ow, what did I do?”

“You idiot, she thinks we’re dating!”

“What’s so wrong with that?” He smirks, getting a little too close for comfort as he leans forward over the other side of the cart.

“So many things, just so many things.”

“Come on, I started working here, I can’t be that bad.”

“Is that a question or a statement? Don’t you have soccer practice today?”

“Aww, you pay that much attention to my schedule?”

“What?!” You shove him and he laughs. “No, stop-”

“It’s alright, beautiful, I get it. And no, I moved practice to Thursdays.”

“Just so you could work at the library?” He nods, not giving it much thought. You on the other hand, are starting to turn pink and bury your face into a copy of Milk and Honey as if you’re checking out the bar code.

*** So Na Jaemin is finally starting to not get on your nerves. He gets in earlier than you, and while his flirting hasn’t completely stopped, he has stopped throwing around pet names and asking you out on dates. He does also get a lot of work done, so he’s nice to have around in that aspect, and- okay, maybe you’re starting to like the guy.

“Hey gorgeous,”. He stopped throwing the nicknames around, doesn’t mean he’s stopped using them in entirety. It’s well into February and Jaemin walks in late for the first time, pulling a snow-sprinkled beanie off his head and placing a starbucks cup on the desk in front of you. “For you, keeper of books.”

You roll your eyes, but take a sip. “White chocolate mocha, how’d you-”

“I have my sources,” he winks and takes a sip of his own coffee, which looks like if someone turned the souls of the innocent into liquid. He doesn’t even flinch as he takes a long gulp, and you’re slightly worried for the man. “SO what are we doing today?”

“Well no one’s here so there’s nothing really to do but stamp some of these cards.”

“Some?” He gestures to the large pile of books next to you that still need to be stamped, and you just shrug. “Okay, two people can take this down faster, hand me a book.”

***

“NO! That did not go in!” Jaemin protested. A few hours later and you both had finished stamping the rest of the books. With nothing left to do, you both had turned to a regular game of table football, but you were on the ground, so was it floor football? Ground football? Your mind was racing, probably because after finishing your own drink, you and Jaemin had shared the rest of his, and all that espresso was really making you both giddy.

“It so did!” You roll your eyes and pick up the little paper football, ignoring Jaemin’s outcries. “Which means I’m 2 points ahead of you!”

“Oh yeah, well one last round, winner takes everything,” Jaemin offers, leaning over and daintily plucking the piece of paper from your fingers.

“What are we betting?” You pout, slumping back to the ground and forming a goal as Jaemin lines the football up.

“Okay, we each go twice, and the winner decides what the loser has to do.”

“Fine.” Jaemin positions the football and takes his shot. It clearly passes through your goal, and you wrinkle your nose at him. “Show-off.”

“Just go for it.” Your first one flies through Jaemin’s goal easily, and his next one does the same. “It’s all on you, L/N,” he teases, passing the football over to you between his thumb and index finger.

Oh god, what was he gonna make you do it you lost? You positioned the football, ready to win and make Na Jaemin do whatever you wanted when-

ding, ding, the bell rung just as you pulled your finger back to flick the ball. You flinched and the football passed to the right, missing the goal by a few inches. Jaemin snorted, pumping his fist up in victory. “no, no no no, the bell rang, that doesn’t count”

“Uh uh, one last round, L/N, we didn’t say any more! I win!” He disappears to answer the bell and you sigh, laying in worry as to what he’s gonna make you do.

When he comes back, you’re getting up. “Hey, hey, where do you think you’re going, we have a bet to handle.”

“Ugh, fine, what do I have to do?” You groan. Cheer for him at all his games, set him up with a friend? Cover your shift all by yourself?

“Go on a date with me.”

“Wait, what?” He smiles, not a smirk or a grin, just a small smile and bends down to your eye level, repeating the words again.

“Go. on. a. date. with. me. tomorrow.”

“You want to go out with me?”

“Thanks for finally noticing,” he laughs. “Come on, I think your opinion of me has raised enough for one date. And if it does bad, I’ll let the whole thing go, forever. I promise.”

What’s stopping you? It’s just one date, anyway, but what scares you is if it becomes more than just one date. “Okay,” you nod, still in shock. “Tomorrow, 6:00, pick me up from my dorm.”

Jaemin laughs again and grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you in for a hug. You smile, and then he catches you off guard by kissing your cheek. “Finally, it took me 6 months to get a date with you! Uh, okay, 6:00, I’ll pick you up, dress casual- yeah, okay. Our shift is over, I gotta go!” Scooping up his bag, he waves one last time before disappearing from the back room.

Still in a haze from everything that just happened, you sink against the wall, smiling as you bury your head in your hands, the small paper football still closed in one. What were you getting yourself into?

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crazyrandomfucker · 3 years

Text

Hero Apprentice Twins 4

Chapter 4: Hail Queen

----------------------------------------

"What was that?" asked Chat Noir rubbing his head.

"I'm not sure, but we have to stop them!"says Lordbug.

"Well, we have to catch them before they run away!" says Kitty Noire with a smug smile on her face.

"Let's have a little Chat and we'll take the wind out of their sails" replies Chat with a dorky smile as he begins to chase the akumas, but Ladybug stops him by grabing his tail.

"Those two were horrible kitty-cats" says Ladybug rolling her eyes . "But I have an idea, follow me!"

Ladybug begins to run quite fast as she approaches the walls of the buildings on the street and she jumps and keeps running on the walls. Instinctively, Chat follows her lead just a few seconds after her and jumps to the opposite walls, trying to run in paralel to Ladybug. Kitty and Lordbug react a bit later than Chat does, but they follow their example and Lordbug sprints to get to the side of Chat as Kitty reaches Ladyug and runs with her. Knowing that their momentum won't aloww them to run forever on the walls due to a lack of speed (thank gods Mari had managed to understand that part of physics), they accelerate and get close enough to the akumas to jump to them, spinning their weapons fast enough to let them glide through air a bit, changing their trajectory percisely to fall on top of Stormy Weather and Hail Queen. Or so it would have been if the akumatized girls in question hadn't heard them coming and turned around at the precise moment when the heroes were umping towards them.

"God, not AGAIN!" echo the akumas.

Both akumas open their umbrellas at unison and summon their wind, but when the gusts of wind combine themselves, the resultant wind becomes so strong that not only are the superheroes thrown across Paris, but it also throws several cars behind them. The heroes manage to land on their feet but have to think quickly to avoid getting smashed by the cars. Chat rolled to dodge some of the cars while Ladybug had to jump over and slid under some of the cars. Kitty Noir dogded a car just to quickly doge another one, trapping herself between the cars, which began to fall onto her but collided with each other and stop. However, Lordbug was also dodging cars when he saw that happening and tackled her to save her even if it wasn't necessary. They ended up again in the floor but this time Lordbug is the one pinning Kitty, which makes him turn as red as his costume. But then a bus comes flying towards the heroes and Lordbug can see it, so Kitty hugs Lordbug and extends her pole to push them out of the way, failing to notice how sweaty has lordbug become and how his blush hass reached an undiscovered color. Meanwhile, Ladybug hugs Chat and spins her yoyo at maximum speed above them, making a hole on the side of the bus, but when she stops spinning her yoyo and tries to pull it back to her hand, she doesn't takes Chat's height into account and hits his head with the yoyo completely by mistake.

"I'm beginning to think you have something with me today My Lord" jokes Kitty booping the bug's nose. "Didn't know you are so naughty with blonde catgirls".

"P-Please Kitty, this is awkardlyenough for me. Could you please stop hugging me so we can get to work" says Lordbug blushing.

"Aww, but that's no fun beetleboy. And here I thought you wouldn't resist my feline charms" teases Kitty unhugging him.

"I'm no beast ma Dame" says Lordbug getting up. "Now, where are our twins?"

"I'm goin to say they are inside the-" begins Kitty, but they hear a 'thump' and a circle of glass pops out of one of the bus windows.

"Meowvelous thinking Bugaboo. I'd never thought my claws were so sharp" says Chat jumping outside the bus.

"Don't call me bugaboo! But thanks, I wasn't sure if it was going to work" says Ladybug copying him.

"Well, there they are" points the cat heroine. "Guess you can't keep hugging with me" says with a wink.

"Hugging?" asks Ladybug glaring at Lordbug.

"It was accidental, Kittyhugged me to get us out of there before the bus smashed us" explains Lordbug nervously.

"Don't worry mon commerade, I believe you" says Chat patting the bug's back.

"Kitty, please stop teasing my idiotic brother, we have some akumas to deal with" says Ladybug determined.

-At a random rooftop-

The akumas land on the rooftop and grin as they notice how close are they to their objective. A shadowy butterfly-like mask apears on each of their faces, indicating that the akumas are being contacted by Hawk Moth, despite him having less control over them because of the difference of powers between the akumas (Hawk Moth has a better control of his akumas the more similar are their powers than when they have some or a lot of difference between their powers).

"Now, now my dear akumas, you'll show the whole world that my weather girls should have won the conquest, but now is the time to fullfill your agreement and I have a plan" says Haw Moth, plotting some scenarios to take the miraculous.

"Of course Hawk Moth" says Stormy Weather.

"It will be our pleasure" says Hail Queen.

Meanwhile, not so far from the akumas the Césaire twins are still trapped with Mina and Manon in the carrousel, trying to distract the little girls while the firemen work hard to try to cut the ice dome where they are trapped, but the axes they use don't do enough damage to the ice and some stalactites begin to form threatening to fall onto the prisoners. The reporters duo can't help but to worry and silently pray that their favourite superheroes manage to save the day before they get a cold death.

"No but seriously, what is wrong with them? I get they didn't win that stupid weather twins contest, but it's not something that bad to get akumatized over with. Is it?" asks Kitty as they run, searching for the akumas.

"I don't know, maybe they have anger managment issues" says Chat shrugging.

"I think that they are frustrated" says Ladybug.

"Frustrated? For losing an irrelevant contest?" ask the cats at unison.

"It wasn't irrelevant for them, they did work really hard to win. But the winners didn't put a lot of effort to win, I heard they only entered to overcome their shyness" says Lordbug with a serious tone.

"You shouldn't judge whether the contest was or wasn't irrelevant, it's not nice for those who give their best on the contest" reprimands Ladybug.

An electronic billboard near them lights up suddenly and catches the attention of the young heroes, who stop running and approach the billoard as they recognized one of the certain akumatized sisters, Hail Queen. They inmediately recognize the TV studio where the akumas where filming from, as there still is the KIDZ+ logo on a corner of the screen.

"Hello" says Stormy Weather, her face appearing on the screen just to slowly walk back to be with her sister. "Here's the latest forecast for this spooky week of Halloween!"

"And it looks like Mother Nature has had a little change of mind" says Hail Queen with an evilish grin.

"HALLOWEEN IS NOW OFFICIALLY CANCELED!" say the akumas at unison as a huge snowflake symbol covers France in the weather map. Then the connection goes off.

"Already? But I look so hot on my werecat costume" says Chat wiggling his eyebrows at Ladybug, who rolls her eyes.

"Not as much as I did on my devil nurse costume" replies Kitty with a wink, oblivious to a certain bug lord going bright red behind her.

Ladybug hits her brother with her elbow. "The cat costumes will work thanks".

"At least we know now where they are" says Lordbug caressing his poor stomach.

The heroes leap to the nearest building to take a shortcut to the TV station, jumping from roof to roof and ocasionally swinging or polevaulting themselves to get as fast as they can to their destination. As they run and jump over the rooftops of Paris, the sky slowly turns darken and darker as clouds begin to form and grow making the sky look more menacing each second passed, which only make the heroes worry more and try to be faster. Finally, they are able to get to the station, that has ice on several places of the building. The lights are off and as the heroes advance, seeing people frozen at each step they make, the voice of the akumas echoes in the background and all the screens lit up since they seem to have restarted their machiavelic broadcast.

"Prepare for the worst weather on history" says one of the akumas on te background as the heroes notice a life size model of the weather twins finalists.

"Hey, they still have those umbrellas even akumatized" points Chat.

"The akumas must be on those parasols!" says Lordbug.

"I'm sure those are umbrellas, they are too short and round for being parasols My Lord" says Kitty with a playful tone.

"This is not the moment, focus on the akumas" says Ladybug.

The heroes search through most of the studios they can, skiping those where a bunch of frozen people blocked the way. Hail Queen leaves the screens under the pretext of getting a very special surprise for those who hadn't had voted them on the contest and the young heroes feel the rush to stop them, clearing all of the floors except for the last two. Finally, they get to a studio that had lit screen next to the doors, indicating that there should be someone inside recording something. The heroes stop in front of the door and take a moment to look at the screen and also to their surroundings, making sure that Hail Queen isn't there or preparing a surprise attack.

"Here in Stormy Weather twins, winter. Is. Forever!" says the akuma giggling in a sinister way.

The boys position themselves in front of the door, readying themselves to knock it down in case the door is locked. Lordbug signals Chat and they charge against the door, but Ladybug and Kitty Noire rush past them and knock the door by themselves, which makes the boys loose balance momentarily, but not enough to fall. The studio is completely empty and the camera is filming an already recorded video, which makes Ladybug shudder from realitzation and she turns around, the others copying her just as Stormy Weathers enters the room. As the akumatized girl laughs, she shots two lightnings to the spotlights on the ceiling, making them fall to the superheroes, who manage to dodge it. But the, without a warning, the lights of the entire floor begin to shut down and the akuma runs away laughing with a certain purple butterfly-like mask on her face.

The cats are the first to stand up, Kitty helping Chat because she managed to roll and stand up. With their night vision they follow the akumas, observing how Hail Queen exits what they suppose is the maintenace room. They take a step forward, ready to run and pursue the akumas, but a very loud thump followed by some groans stop them. They turn around and see the bugs getting up and falling over the broken spotlights and even themselves. Without malice, Kitty begins to laughs and Chat joins her not much later, to which the bugs look at their general direction with a glare that makes the cats shut up.

"Are those the cries of two damsels in distress?" teases Kitty Noire.

"Not all of us have night vision Ma Damme" says Lordbug slightly offended.

"Oh, but we thought that your smile could enlighten the world. My Lady's for sure enlightens me" says Chat poking Ladybugs nose.

"That was smooth man" says Lordbug.

"Don't encourage him!" says Ladybug a bit annoyed, yet flustered.

"Well thanks M'Lord, I try very hard to woo this fair lady" says Chat grabbing Ladybug's hand and kissing it.

"Down Kit-cat" says Ladybug pushing him away without losing hold of his hand. "Guide me to the akuma, we need to stop them".

"Always so right, Buggaboo. I guess my sister will have to put up with guiding Lordbug, grabbing his hand and pulling him" says Chat teasingly with a smug smirk looking to the mentioned boy.

"Stop calling me Buggaboo!" says Ladybug.

"Shall we go then, M'Lord? Frosty and Sparky are getting away" says Kitty grabbing Lordbug's hand, making the boy jolt from surprise. "Aw, come on big boy, no need to bug out, it's just me~".

"Sorry for not being able to see anything in pitch black darkness" replies Lordbug as flustered as embarrassed.

"Just trust in me, bug" says Kitty. She nods at her brother and both began to run, guiding their parnters in the dark.

They manage to catch up to the akumas when they are to go into the emergency stairs, but the akumas somehow notice them and increase their running rate. Chat takes the head position and follows them into the stairs, just to be greeted by the two akumas grinning on the next floor with fire extinguishers on their hands.Stormy weather throws hers and Hail Queen waits for Chat to dodge to throw hers. Chat dodges the first extinguisher by a hair, but the second one hits him on the forehead just as the first one hits a blinded Ladybug. Both get knocked off, but Kitty and Lordbug enter andhelp them up while the akumas escape laughing at them. The heroes keep pursuing the akumas until they reach the roof, where the akumas begin to float above them while attacking them. Stormy Weather backs off a bit and starts preparing a hurricane while Hail Queen throws ice chunks and a freezing ray to the heroes to keep them busy. A hurricane forms on the clouds and begins to descend, swallowing the building entirely and Hail Queen frozes the door, trapping the heroes on the roof.

"You airheads!" says Stormy Weather laughing at the heroes.

"You fell right into our trap!" says Hail Queen with a devilish grin. A purple mask appears on the akumas faces.

"The time is now! Bring me the miraculos dear akumas!" says Hawk Moth.

"There's no way out!" shouts Hail Queen.

"Party is over fools. Give us your miraculous" says Stormy Weather with a cocky attitude.

The bugs take a step simultaneously. "We are just-" both of them stop when they notice the cats still holding them.

"Sorry m'Lady, I forgot to take a hold of myself" says Chat as he releases Ladybug's hand, who groans at the pun.

"Um, Kitty? You don't need to hold my hand anymore" says Lordbug trying to mantain composture, but flustering anyway.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realise we were still holding hands" says Kitty blushing a bit. She recovers her composture and releases his hand just to boop his nose.

Lordbug recovers his composture and looks at the akumas. "We're just getting started!"

"Lucky Charm" chant the bugs and they summon a towel and a bottle of water.

"A back towel and a bottle of water? What are we supposed to do with this?" asks Ladybug observing the items.

"Great, so we're about to be obliterated, but at least we'll be dry and hydrated" says Lordbug sarcastically.

"Just hold your antennae Lordgrump" says Kitty engaging a fighting stance.

"Hail!" says the icy akuma and it starts hailing.

Chat Noir pushes everyone into a spot and extends his baton as he begins to spin it over their heads, acting as a shield against the hail and giving his buggy partners time to figure their Lucky Charms out. "Better think of a plan to get us all out of this! My arms won't take long to get crampy!"

The bugs begin to analize their surroundings to search for what they need. They know they need to coordinate their plans this time due to the pair of flying akumas with long range attacks, that could intervene to rescue the other in case of need unless they are also busy. Because of that,coming with a plan would certainly take longer than usual and knowing this, Kitty made Chat trip as she used her baton as a spinning shield instead of her brother. And then they see it, the spotted figures that lead them into a perfectly coordinated plan. Lordbug and Ladybug nod at each other and turn to their parnters, explaining their plan with a sinlge look into the cats' eyes, who nod agreeingly. Seconds later, as the hail stops, Ladybug signals Chat to run to one of the giant panels and Stormy Weather throws a bunch of lightning in the way, but Chat Noir grins as he changes his route towards the opposite pannel. Meanwhile Kitty and Lordbug had distracted Hail Queen throwing her her own hail, focusing her attention on them until the thunders roar behind her. Hail Queen turns to see Chat getting to the pannel and reading his Cataclism, Stormy focused on him, and just when she's about to attack, Lordbug throws her an ie chunk taht hits her head perfectly. The akuma turns again with cold fury shining on her eyes, which quickly turns into surprise as she sees that Kitty Noir had already climbed the nearest pannel to her and was free falling to her.

"Freeze right there!" says Hail Queen throwing Kitty a freezing ray.

"Just what we were waiting for~" sings Kitty with a smirk.

She cataclysms the bottle and it explodes as the freezing ray hits it, freezing the water that was getting all over the place and forming an ice plate taht got thicker due to the ray before the akuma could turn it off. Kitty Noire jumps on the ice patform and gets a firm grip of the pannel as the ice plate falls faster to the ice queen and knocks her down, stucking her to the floor. At the same time, Chat Noir had cataclysmed the other pannel's support, making it fall onto Stormy Weather, forcing her to use a lightning to make a hole for her to go through, not noticing Ladybug's yoyo tiead around her leg or how Ladybug slid under an air duct, jumped onto the ventilation system and extended the towel to propel herself to the skies until it was to late and she was being pulled down from her leg and a crane was knocking off her umbrella. Chat Noir jumps and grabs the umbrella and then passes it to Ladybug, who catches the umbrella and lands safely. Lordbug picks up Hail Queen's umbrella and with a quick glance at each other, the bugs break the akumatised umbrellas by smashing them against their knees. The hideous butterflies slither out of the umbrellas and try to fly away, but both bugs fling their yoyo's and catch the akumas to purify them. A moment later, two white butterflies ascend to the sky as the clouds wither away and the bugs summon their miraculous cure, evoking a clear blue sky with a shining sun that makes a smile appear on the young heroes' faces.

"What are we doing up here?" ask confused the now deakumatized twins

"Pound it!" say the heroes at unison doing their fistbump before leaving the scene, but then, they hear two sobs and turn around.

"Uh... Are they crying" asks Chat Noir in a moment of sheer intelligence.

"No Chat, they are breakdancing. Of course they are crying!" replies sassily Ladybug approaching the girls.

"Hey, what happens?" asks Kitty to the former akumas. "Everything is fine now, we are here with you so bad old Hawkie won't infect you twice. Come on, tell us what happens".

"We- We worked so hard to win!" says Aurore between sobs.

"A-A-And all we did is losing with a huge difference of votes. And t-th-they didn't even want to participate! They j-just wanted to b-b-be more confident" continues Aria.

"Even worse! Not only have we lost the contest, but we also lost our temper and became akumatized!" cries Aurore.

"Hey" says Lordbug placing a hand on the shoulder of both girls. "We know you two did your best and we don't blame you for being akumatized".

"It's not your fault that Hawk Moth uses negative feelings to tamper with yourselves. He is the only one evil and at fault for the akumatization, you two were just feeling bad like perfectly normal human beings, he messed with you and manipulated you" says Ladybug kneeling down.

"Exactly, you two aren't villainess or something like that. What you did was normal and we can relate to feeling down after not winning a competition. If it makes anything better, we voted for you" says Lordbug with a comforting smile.

"Thank you" say the girls and hug him, leaving everyone surprised.

Unexpectedly, the door of the stairs bangs open and Mirielle and Miriam appear. They look distressed and out of it as they search franctically, but then they see the heroes and their ex rivals and they visibly relax, letting go a deep sigh off their chests. They approach the heroes and the former akumas with a paper and they hug Aurore and Aria crying.

"We're so sorry. When you where akumatized we were afraid and guilty, because we know how hard you two had worked" says Miriam.

"We just did it on a whimp and it wasn't fair at all" cries Mirielle.

"B-But you discovered something while you were akumatized" says Miriam showing the paper.

"What is that?" asks Chat curious. "May I see it?"

"Y-Yes" says Miriam giving Chat the paper.

Kitty stands up and reads the paper with her brother. "What?! That profit driven cheater!" shouts Kitty.

"What happens?" asks concerned Ladybug.

"Their votes were even, there was no winner but they rigged it so they'd win more money" explains Chat holding back his anger.

"What!?" exclaims everyone.

"We don't want to be weathergirls, especially not after that" says Mirielle drying their eyes. "You deserve it more than us".

"What?! No! I- We refuse to work with that jerk!" say at unison Aria and Aurore.

"Well, I have an idea" says Lordbug.

"What is it my Lord?" asks Kitty.

"What that guy did was outrageous and we can't be left with no weather reports, so we're obviously going to go to the police so they aprehend that guy and he loses his job for that" explains Lordbug. "But since they were even and we don't have a winner, why don't you four take turns to present like we do to patrol? Let's say Aurore and Mirielle present one week, the next one is Aria and Mirielle, the next one is Aria and Miriam and the next one is Aurore and Miriam and repeat".

"I agree!" says Miriam blushing.

"Me too!" says Mirielle blushing as well.

"I-If you say so. We also agree" say the blonde girs blushing too. Then the heroes leave the building.

"Purrfect then. Since we have more time until we detransform, we'll take this to the police" says Chat. "But I must say M'Lord, you're quite the lady killer".

"Of course he is, he's handsome, tall and a hero. What a pity I already love someone else, we could make a great couple, couldn't we?" says Kitty. "But I do love someone else".

"How unfair my Damme, teasing a young boy like that. If I'm a lady killer you must be a serial killer, killing all the boys that see you" says Lordbug.

"Well, except for the one I like, but that's irrelevant, you've got to go" says Kitty pointing towards the earrings.

"We'll talk about this later, but I'm sure that even tha boy you like likes you back, who could deny your beatuy?" says Lordbug before they leave.

-At the park-

Marin and Marinette rush across the park, desesperatedly trying to get to Alen, Alya and the little girls to check up on them. Tikki and Tekke take their heads out of their hiding spots and the designer duo slows down to listen to their kwamis.

"Marinette, look, Adrienne and Adrien are there! You'd leave a good impression on Adrien if you check up on them after being so close to an akuma" says Tikki.

"It's also good to check on your boss too Marin, You might want to keep the job" says Tekke in a serious tone, making unclear whether he was joking or not.

"Our first priority should be the kids that have been entrusted to us" says Marin.

"You could go there and relax a bit. Alen and Alya are plenty capable of watching those two for a while" retorts Tekke.

"Plus, you two have defeated an akuma just now, you should be allowed to have a bit of fun as well" says Tikki.

Before none of the designers can reply, two girls shout excitedly getting near. "Marin! Marinette!"

"Sorry, they just run off when they saw you" says Alya approaching them as the Dupain-Cheng hug the little girls.

"Thanks for calling the firemen AND the buggy heroes" says Alen.

"We just run into them and asked them to get you all out of there. I'm glad they defeated those akuma" says Marinette.

"We know your secret" chants Manon.

"What secret are you talking about?" asks Marin sweating bullets.

"You two are best friends with Ladybug and Lordbug! That's why they came so fast!" says Mina.

"O-Of course!" says Marinette calming down.

"If you were, you could get us some interviews right?" says Alya softly elbowing Mari.

"We could, but what would be the fun in that?" teases Marinette.

"So, what were you going to do?" says Alen.

"We were thinking of checking up on the Agreste, let the girls do the shoot and take them home" explains Marin.

"What are we waiting for then?" says Alya already heading to the models.

They get there and Adrien notices them. "Hey guys, crazy afternoon right?"

"You tell me sunshine, we were trapped on a frozen carroussel cocoon" says Alya.

"H-How you a-are? I mean- Ho-ow a-a-are yo-you?" asks Marinette clumsily.

"We kind of lost our bodyguards, so we went hiding on a building. Thanks for asking" says Adrien with a smile that makes Marinette's heart explode.

"How were you two with all that crazy icing and lightning?" asks Adrienne. "I wouldn't want to lose my best employee because of him losing fingers to the cold or to a bolt" says teasingly.

"You know, Marinette and I were pretty safe" replies Marin. "We went to look for help and after getting the firemen and our local heroes we went straight for cover".

"Wait, you meet our heroes?" says Adrien half excited half unpleased.

"O-Only Ladybug and Lordbug though" says shyly Mari.

"We suspect they may know them well~" teases Alen.

"Surething dude, we're also the cats if you want us to be" says Mar sassily. "You know how kids are".

"Hey!" complain the little girls.

"Well-" tries to say Adrienne, but the photographer arrives and interrump them.

"Hey, we need to get those pictures as soon as possible!" says the man desesperately.

They restart the photoshoot, except this time the Agreste models were posing with Mina and Manon instead of solo. Vincent, the photograper, made them pose in various ways: Adrien and Adrienne holding high the little girls, everyone sitting on the fountain, the little girls hugging the models, the models carrying Mina and Manon on their shoulders, everyone jumping, playing hands and so. When it seemed to have finished, Adrienne bowed down and whispered something to the young girls, who inmediately nod and run to the photographer, tugging his jean softly to get his attention. Vincent kneels down to hear the little angels, but he goes back to his feet when he notices Adrienne coming, who picks up the little girls so the photographer doesn't have to bow down.

"We were wondering that, since this little girls have helped so much and Marin and Marinette had given us their permission to do this last part of the shoot, which as you can say it went perfectly smooth, would you mind to take a couple of pictures including those two? It won't go to my father of course, so there won't be any pressure to reach perfection and I'll pay for the photos" says Adrienne.

"Please mister photographer" beg at unison Mina and Manon, making their best puppy eyes.

"Uggh, fine. These two little angels have been a great help, it would be unfair for them" says Vincent giving in. "But, I'll only take four more photos and I won't be giving you instructions".

"Thank you Vincent! You're the best!" says Adrienne and gives him a kiss on the cheek, Mina and Manon copy her.

"Marinette! Marin!" call the little girls.

"What happens?" says Mar.

"Is the shoot over?" asks Mari.

"It is, but as a thanks for letting this girls help, I've asked Vincent to take a bunch of pics extra with you two and he accepted to do four more" says Adrienne.

"We're doing more photos?" asks Adrien coming close to see what is happening.

"We're doing more photos, yes. But we're doing them with two of our firends! Isn't it awesome?" says Adrienne excited.

"Of course! Mari is a great friend, I want a photo with her" says Adrien smiling as he mentally curses Marin.

"W-W-Wi-With m-m-me?" asks Marinette getting redder than a ladybug.

"Yes! I'd like to consider myself to be your friend and I want to have a photo with you. Is that wrong?" says Adrien getting a bit down.

"N-N-No! It's perfect! You're perfect! I mean- It's a p-pe-perfect Id-d-dea!" says Marinette flustered.

"Great!" says Adrien with a pure and inocent smile that makes Marinette's heart skip a year woth of beats.

"And we'll also be in the photos!" says happily Manon.

"Because we also want a photo with Lordbug and Ladybug best friends!" says Mina.

"You are?" says Adrien very surprised.

"What? Of course not Agreste, these little angels just thought that because we met them and asked them to rescue Alen and Alya and the girls" says Marin quickly.

"Sure thing" says Adrien not very convinced.

"Let's do the photos! Ok?"says Adrienne quickly changing the topic.

"Let's go!" agrees Mari.

After some discussing, they did two photos of everyone together posing and one photo with each Dupain-Cheng, making a picture of Marin being kissed on the cheek by Adrienne and the little demons and one of Marinette being hugged by Adrien and the girls, but then Vincent, unsatisfied and excited to see the dynamics the models had with the designers, he asked them to make two mre photos, but with the opposites twins, resulting on a photo that screamed fluffyness and cuteness with Adrienne, Marinette, Mina and Manon hugg together smiling from the bottom of their hearts, which made everyone say a big "Awwwww". The other picture however, it showedpure competitiviness and healthy rivalry, with Marin holding Manon and Adrien holding Mina doing a horsemen war. Alen was laughing his ass off as the boys carried on with their horsemen war after Vincent took the picture, which lead to Marinette scolding Marin and Adrienne scolding Adrien, making the Cesáire burst into laughs.

"Well, I think it's time for us to leave" says Marinette, checking her watch.

"Before you go, do you have any plans for Halloween?" asks Adrienne.

"Not that I know, unless you want me to make something else for you, then I'll be working" says Marin.

"Oh, and here I thought that I could comision you another halloween costume, because the one you made is just for a formal event" teases Adrienne. "Anyway, how about you two?" says to the reporters.

"I don't think so, but probably we'll have to stay and look after our own little angels" says Alya.

"Well, if you can, we were thinking to convince Nino and Nina to go trick or treating" says Adrien.

"That would be awesome" says Marinette excitedly, but blushes instantly when she realizes that she has said it outloud.

"Well, if Mari is so eager to get more sweets I guess we'll have to make sure she doesn't ends up on a sugar rush" says Alya sassily.

"Hey!" says Marinette embarrassed.

"Great then! Marin, I'd like a costume different from the formal one my father ordered but I'm not sure of which and I don't want to trouble you more. Can we go and buy one this week?" says Adrienne.

"If you had an idea I'd simply sew it for you, but I guess it will be a nice experience" says Marin.

"Perfect! See you tomorrow?" asks the model.

"Yeah, I'll also have your hat ready" answers the designer.

"Is it a date or can I tagg along with my man" says Alen.

"Oh I don't know, bring Nina and we could have a double date" says Adrienne winking at the boy.

"You're on" replies Alen smirking.

"You all done flirting?" asks Alya. "The bodyguards are beginning to look impatient".

"Crap. Guess we'll have to go" says Adrien and the blondes leave.

"Ok, now... What was that girl?" says Alya turning to Marinette. "That was the longest phrase without stuttering you've said in front of him until now. Except for the first day, but that's something else".

"I was... Excited for the sweets?" tries Marinette.

"Yeah, right. And I'm Ladybug" teases Alya.

"You almost were" thinks Marinette.

"I just liked the idea of trick or treating ok?" says Mari quickly as she blushes.

"By the way, what are you two going to go as?" asks Alen sparing Marinette.

"I was thinking of going as Frankenstein" says Marin. "Althought I also thought of going as Mario the plumber".

"Man, if you go as Mario I'll go as Luigi" says Alen.

"Mario it is then" says Marin high fiving Alen.

"And you girl?" asks Alya.

"I'm not sure to be honest" says Mari. "Any ideas?"

"Girl, if you go as Chat Noir I'll be your Ladybug. Or a witch, so you're my cat familiar" says Alya.

"Which one, because I'd need different fabrics for each of them".

"Just do it as Chat girl, it would work the same for both options" points Alen.

"Okay... Then let's go shopping, I need an awful lot of leather and a clear photo of Chat" says Marinette.

"We've got you on that last one" says Alen holding his phone with a picture of Chat Noir standing.

"I'll handle the girls until Nadja comes, so go on sis" says Marin.

"Where is Marinette going?" asks Manon.

"She's going to buy some stuff to dress as Chat Noir, so tell her goodbye" says Marin kneeling down.

"Goodbye Marinette" echo the girls almost robotically.

"Goodbye girls, be good with Marin" says Marinette.

"I'll see you all in a bit" says Marin as he leaves holding hands with the little angels.

"If Nina was here she'd joke about the Angel holding the little angels" says Marinette and Alen bursts in laughs.

"Well girl, what are we waiting for? Let's go get those fabrics" says Alya pulling Mari away.

"Hey! Don't leave me here!" complains Alen chasing after the girls.

-At Marinette's room-

"Today has been a complete day" says Tikki as she rests on a pillow.

"It sure has been. School, taking care of little girls, akuma fighting, shopping and designing a replica of Chat's costume. Now that I think about it, why couldn't I simply make one like Kitty's?" says Mari letting herself fall to her bed.

"Because, and you know it, Alya ships LadyNoir. Well, she also ships LordNoire but that isn't relevant right now" says Tikki smiling.

"I know, but I don't get it. We're four teammates, why do we have to date between us? And why do they asume we're hetero? Yes, I know Marin is, but I'm bisexual, I could perfectly be with Kitty Noire" whines Mari.

"But you know you're good friends with Kitty" says Tikki. "But you do treat differently Chat".

"Because he's usually my partner!" says Marinette.

"Admit it, he is good looking" teases Tikki.

"Well... Yes! But he's horrible and his humour is loathable. He's also a flirt, it's his fault people ship us" says Marinette nervously.

"I've only heard him flirt with you thought" says Tikki.

"Whatever. He's a good partner, but I still haven't forgiven him for trash talking about Marin and denying Kitty's feelings" says Marinette.

"It has been two weks Marinette" says Tikki and they hear a knock on the window.

"I'll hide, if it's an akuma I'll get Marin" says Tikki phasing through the bed.

Mari goes to her window and takes a look outside opening her window. "Who's there?"

"I'm Kitty Noire" says Kitty getting closer so Mari can see her. "Can we talk a bit?"

"Um... Sure? What does one of the heroes of Paris want with me?" says Marinette nervously, wondering if Kitty had heard her talk with Tikki. "Come in please".

Kitty entters throught the window and sits on Marinette's bed. "What a nice room" says Kitty.

"Thanks... You wanted to talk right? What happens?" says Marinette nervous.

"Well, first of all, I want to apologise againfor what my brother and I did two weeks ago. It was out of place and we shouldn't have done it on your rooftop" says Kitty lowering her ears.

"I'm not mad for it... Not too much... Not on you definetly" says Marinette.

"Thanks for forgiving me. Second... I have this for you from my brother" says Kitty giving her a package.

"What is this?" asks Mari confused.

"Well, my brother was really shocked of what you said and felt very sad. He thought that he ha disappointed you and apparently he cares an awful lot about your opinion on him" explains Kitty calmly. "He even freaked out searching an apology gift for you and almost skipped his patrol to come to give you this".

"Wow... I didn't know he thought so much of me. I mean, I overheard Ladybug and Lordbug saying you two know us out of the mask, but I didn't realise I matter so much. Am I going to be surrounded on superherobussiness now?" says Marinette, unsure of what to think or say.

"Well, not on our end at least" says Kitty Noire. "We don't want to trouble you and we're kind of ashamed of our behviour".

"Oh please, I've seen Lordbug worse and I've fed their magical thingy, something like kwamees or kwamis, more than once now" says Marinette.

"You've seen their kwamis?" asks Kitty surprised.

"Yeah, small red flying thingies with a black spot. They are adorable and very nice" says Marinette mentally cursing her own stupidity.

"Wow, I wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you saw threw them like nothing, so I guess it's normal for them" says Kitty.

"I guess. Thought it was the kwamis who revealed themselves when we told them we knew about their superheroing stunts" says Mari improvising.

"Oh, that makes sense" says Kitty. "My brother's kwami and mine are two mischievous little trolls, I'm surprised that they hadn't 'accidentally' revealed themselves to someone else"

Marinette giggles. "Poor you. I guess they must be tough to deal with".

"Oh you know nothing, they break havoc a lot and eat this awfully smelling cheese that stinks most of our stuff" says Kitty, happy to hear Marinette giggling. They spend a couple of minutes in silence until it truns awkward.

"Well... Kitty, I'll be honest with you" says Mari getting up. "I'm still a bit annoyed with your brother, but since he seems to respect me so much, I'll also forgive him if he promises to listen to you and not asume everything. Also tell him thanks for the present. What is it?"

"Well, he casually heard you were making a Chat-like costume for Halloween and wanted to contribute a bit" says Kitty with a wink. "Now, I have to go, but stay safe Mari".

When Kitty has already left, Marinette opens the present and sees a blonde wig with fake cat ears attached, just like Chat ears, a copy of his baton and clawed leather gloves. Mari smiles. "That dork, looks like I'll have to forgive him".

"He thinks greatly of you" says Tikki.

"He respects me. Maybe he's even afraid, from what Kitty said" replies Mari, ignoring Tikki's questioning look and going to sleep. "Good Night Tikki".

"Good Night Mari" answers Tikki.

______________________________

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#miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #miraculous fanfic #Twins!Au #hero apprentices twins

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anne-lister-adventures · 4 years

Text

Monday, 10 February 1840

8 3/4

1 1/2

Dawdling writing bit of rough draft of note to Countess Panin snowy morning Reaumur 8 1/2º in my room at 9 a.m. – Breakfast at 10 in about 40 minutes –

Hardly over before Colonel of the Engineers and Mrs. Gottman nice intelligent people called, and then Mr. Baehr, and then the General Gouverneur’s nephew and aide du camp Mr. Tolstoy and then the Prince de Georgia or properly Gurinsky so that it was 12 10/’’ by my watch (and as it appeared afterwards to be 3 hours instead of 2 1/2 hours too late) and 12 40/’’ by the day here the carriage having waited 3/4 hour –

Mr. Tolstoy had met us the evening we spent chez la Princess Tcherkasky – And saw us (tho’ we knew nothing about it) when we drove to tea at Aleschkowo (vide p.[page] 10) and told George to desire our Courier to bring us here in the part of the Town where all the nobility lived and not take us to any of the Inns in the basse ville – Tolstoy a gentlemanly intelligent fast-French-speaking young man –

Drove directly across the Oka (the verst-long bridge of boats taken away in the winters) a busy enough scene of laden traineaus and people – To all appearance terra-firma – Merely its valley-form to indicate the bed of the river – Drove straight to the Cathedral Church of St. Macaire – Lofty light and handsome rich handsome Iconostase and altar of solid silver given by the merchants that frequent the Fair which begins 15 July and lasts till 25 August O.S. – Large candelabra also en argent massif – Pavement of about 18 in.[inches] squared iron flags – Passed thro’ to the winter church in the large neat building the residence of the clergy at the back of the cathedral – The winter church a beautiful chapel covered vaulted roof painted in imitation of a lightly clouded sky – Effect warm and admirable – Here too rich, beautiful iconostase – Did not go to the Armenian church or Mahomedan Mosque –

The Pechersky Ascension Monastery (in the background), where the Church of St. Macaire was located.

Then to the Governor’s apartments – Large handsome house – The bel étage on a forest of open arcades – Then along the Dvor (Gastinoi Dvor) – Went into one of the shops – Consisting one large room below and a small one and above a good sitting room, and a small bedroom? and a cabinet – This shop lets for 800/- for the whole time of the Fair – But there are still better situations which let for 1000/- - the frontage seemed to be 3 arcades on one side and 2 on the other –

The merchants live in their shops – 2635 shops en pierre, and as was said afterwards chez le General Gouverneur 2600 en bois – All the pillars supporting the galleries of the Dvor are en fonte (cast iron) – And said the General Governor at dinner the length of the Dvor is just one English mile; and a person going into every shop and perfectly well knowing his way (so as not to go out of his way) will have walked 40 English miles at the end of his journey!

Extraordinary ville de boutiques – Bazaar par excellance ou se fait un commerce qui valait l’année passé £8,000,000 said the General Gouverneur at dinner for he said the rouble ought to be 25/- per 1£ but Mr. Marc would certainly be right in giving only 21/- this depending upon circumstances – But said the Governor the merchants always cachent la valeur actuelle – One might add 1/2 to their statement ∴[therefore] instead of 8 millions one should say 12 millions Sterling! – Could not imagine why the merchants should try to hide the real amount of value – No reason for their doing so – It made no difference to them – But they always did hide it –

Lower Bazaar in the Nizhny Novgorod Kremlin (c. 1872)

The large handsome salle at the Governor’s apartments was intended by General Betancourt (a Spaniard the planner of the Dvor) for a Bourse – But no! That did not take – The merchants liked to settle an in their own private rooms; and some 8 or 10 millionaires in settling the price of the Tea, settled the price of every other article – People bought and sold according to the rate that should be fixed for the tea some much p.[per] c.[cent] without at all knowing what that would be till at the last – There were merchants that regularly bought tea to the amount of 6 or 8 millions, each! – The principal business is in tea, iron, and cotton –

On entering the winter church Tolstoy pointed to the height to which the waters rose in 1829 – Apparently about 3 ft.[feet] up the door-jamb – The damage done was considerable – But such a great rise was extraordinary – It had been once thought said the Governor (at dinner did not see him elsewhere today) to place the Dvor on the Kremlin Mountain (did Madame B-[Baehr] say it it was 75 or 175 ft.[feet] above the level of the rivers?) but this would not have suited the merchants – They could not have landed their merchandise with sufficient ease – Betancourt was was misinformed that the waters only rose 3 ft.[feet] above the present emplacement before its being raised but instead of raising 3 ft.[feet] it has been found necessary to raise 20 ft.[feet] in some places at an expense of 11,000,000/- but the present Emperor has been here twice and was so pleased with the Town ville, its situation, prospects &c. that he has taken it under his especial protection and spares no expense 17,000,000 more are now in progress of laying out in a large handsome house palace for the General Governor to be finished next summer (we saw it in the Kremlin) –

One beautifully proportioned Corinthian columned salle de reception) – entrepôts – Sundry additional levellings (gigantic ones already done) the new chaussée &c. &c. the chaussée to be finished in 2 years from this time – Done as far as Vladimir, and part done here – Begins by a magnificent quay along the Oka – The quays here and cloaque can only be seen in summer – The ville on one side the Oka, the Dvor on the other and then the Volga –

For the moment my idea of the ground and the junction of the 2 rivers is not nette (not quite clear) – But the ville as we looked from the Dvor and crossed the river is very picturesquely drawn in a long line along the high bank of the Oka crowned gits picturesque Kremlin – At the Kremlin, not a large enclosure, no cannon or sign of a fortress –

Saw the new Cathedral built in the old style and in commemoration of the old venerable cathedral containing the tombs of many of the princes of Souzdal and of Cosma Minim Souk-Hourouky, the patriotic butcher, stirrer up of the people and Prince Pojarski who rid their country of the Poles (about A.D. 1612) – A copy of the banner of the patriot troops marched under (a virgin 1/2 length with an inscription in substance pour la foi et pour le roi) hangs up en face du tombeau de Minine or rather of the inscription for the tomb is just below in the catacombs substantial lofty brick vaults, 3 corresponding to nave and side aisles – On the chalky rock, and dry as possible – We walked thro’ them –

This Cathedral lofty and handsome and très bien eclairée – The domed ceiling (the domes) in a blue pattern upon white (good effect) the side walls covered with fresco painting which contrasts well with the snow white polished scaglinola of the plain square huge Corinthian pillars that support the roof – The Iconostase rich as usual –

The Saint Michael the Archangel Cathedral of the Kremlin in Nizhny Novgorod. (image © A.Savin, WikiCommons)

We peeped into the Military Hospital room for 550 – About 450 patients there – all cleanliness and neatness here as in the hospital for poor old people of both sexes, and in the maison des fous – About 15 or 20 men and as many women there in all? – No noise – All still and orderly as if the patients were as reasonable as their keepers – One of the men on our going up to his room (the rooms perhaps 5 yards + 4 yards) came to the door-window (a glass window iron barred in each door) and said in Russian very quietly Ah! Je croyais qu’il était le General Gouverneur, mais ce sont des vagabonds!” – Mr. Baehr had joined us in the Kremlin Cathedral and went with us to the Hospitals – Very civil and intelligent – It seems he is Procureur –

It was now 3 by the Town clocks – Obliged to return – Home at 3 10/’’ – Dressed as quickly as we could – The carriage waited for us – At the Governor’s house at 4 1/4 or I think not later – The femme du General Gouverneur an agreeable, nice, good sort of aimable person – Dinner soon announced – Very nice good dinner soup and pâtés – A Marinade de Poisson – Round cotelettes de boeuf round a centre of spinach and little roast potatoes as big as marbles – Then Sterlet du Volga (stewed – Excellent garnished with pieces of lemon which one takes to correct the richness) then roast poulet or game and cucumbers handed round at the same time (salés) – Then a jelly – Then 2 plats of sweet meats (a large long excellent sort of plum and cherries), and then a little tumbler of chill-taken-off water in an empty glass saucer (nobody seems to wash anything but the mouth)and then retired to the salon – Coffee immediately – Sat a few minutes – Quite long enough for Madame B-[Baehr] evidently wished to retire to take her siesta, and said we should want repose –

Home about 6 10/’’ – Sat slumbering dared not undress immediately for fear of anyone’s coming – Tea about 8 – Had Domna put away all my things and it is now 12 25/’’ by the Town clocks just as I have written so far – Snowing in the morning till about or after 11 – Afterwards fine –

The 3 Lords Paget Clarence and 2 others were at the marriage of the Princess Marie and then here at the Fair last summer and afterwards with the Emperor at Borodino – 125,000 reviewed – 2 corps of the army – But very few of the guards there – The Lords P-[Paget] bought a great deal at the fair – Delighted with it – sorry they could not stay longer than 3 days – Promised to write to the B-s[Baehrs] but had not written – Mr. B-[Baehr] gave me a little set of views of the Dvor and promised me a feuille of the business done at the Fair last year – Very civil –

Reaumur 10 1/2º in my room now at 12 1/2 tonight – Mr. Tolstoy said we had more than Reaumur -20 on Thursday night – Thinks we had even as much as Reaumur -25º - no greater cold here than Reaumur -30º to 35º - No greater in Siberia than Reaumur -40 and difficult to measure this – Mercury freezes did the Governor say at Reaumur -35º and spirit of wine only marks 3 or 4 degrees plus bas –

[symbols in the margin of the page:] ✓c ✓c ✓c

[in the margin of the page:] Gastinoi Dvor at Nijeni

[in the margin of the page:] Nijni Gastinoi-Dvor

[in the margin of the page:] Kremlin at Nijeni

[in the margin of the page:] new cathedral service 1st dome in it 27 years ago

[in the margin of the page:] Dinner chez le General Gouverneur

Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0009 SH:7/ML/E/24/0010 SH:7/ML/E/24/0011

#anne lister code breaker #anne lister #ann walker #moscow to baku 1840

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cloudbattrolls · 4 years

Text

As She Made Us

Chimer Latrai | Dimasqa | Present Night

Heat soaks into your veins and bones like it’s trying to live in your cold body, nestle there like a meowbeast in a windowsill.

Civitrecce’s warm, but its tall buildings block out the sun. This place doesn’t have a thing over five stories; everything bigger got bombed all those sweeps ago, and whether through forbiddance or indifference, no one’s ever built things up again.

The city doesn’t need it anyway when it threads through the craters of the ancient blasts as well as on the surface around them. Bridges, psi-lifts, and riders on winged lusii calling out their fares are all happy to take a troll up or down if they can’t or don’t want to use their own feet.

I grew up in Dimasqa, after all.

A meaningless throwaway phrase, or maybe your ticket to figuring out more about the annoying little pissant of a blueblood and if possible, where they got their Chimera statue.

If your informants actually pointed you to someone helpful, that is, and if you don’t get trampled by one of the big beasts hauling supplies everywhere. Unlike your base city, this place isn’t much for tech, and you have to watch your step to avoid actual hoofbeastshit at points.

Disguised in a head covering, which thankfully doesn’t stick out much here (plenty of trolls wear them, especially women) you’re one of maybe five trolls above yellow you’ve seen so far, and three were greenbloods. It’s hard to imagine a pampered cobalt coming from a place like this.

But it wouldn’t make sense for them to lie in front of Yezule about their origin, not when Dimasqa’s about as well-regarded as toxic mold. No reputable troll ever admits to coming from here, and few do anyway.

If they’d wanted some primarily lowblood place to claim as their hivetown, there were infinitely better options.

Your periodic checks to see who’s following you through the winding, crumbling streets are rewarded with what’s probably a pack of muggers who aren’t doing a half-bad job as your shadows as they flit between living buildings and burned-out shells, keeping to the darkest shadows.

They’re smart enough to realize that someone of your height is almost certainly at least teal, and since there’s no identifying colors on your flowing gray and black clothing at all, it’s doubtful you have a higher caste quadrant who’d come looking for revenge.

Not bad at victim picking, girls and boys, but I’ve got better things to do tonight.

All blithe tourist curiosity and idle ease, you wander over to a weathered plaque with a trident engraved into it boasting about the Imperial eradication of the dangerous horrorterror worshippers and study its trilingual inscription intently.

“Turn around nice and easy, lady, and give us your caegers.”

You don’t bother turning around.

“Nah.”

With a flick of a remote you take out of your sylladex, a shimmering dome forcefield encloses the group of vagabonds -

- except the one placed on a wall several feet to the front of you, whose thrown dagger just clinked off your collarbone and bounced onto the stone with a clatter. Fortunately you’re covered with form-fitting body armor beneath your clothes, though the blade probably wasn’t tough enough to pierce fuchsia skin anyway.

You give them a look you know they can’t particularly well through the veil over your eyes, but it’s the thought that counts.

The stunned looking rustblood kid - you can’t tell if they’re brown or maroon, since they’re perched a few feet above you on that crumbling wall - scrabbles back down the blasted brick and runs until you and your long legs put a stop to that.

Picking them up by their shirt, you hold them out like a naughty baby meowbeast.

“Ok, I get this is a real disappointment for you, but if you could just - ”

A long string of curses in two different languages and spit on your face as they try to claw your eyes out makes you realize logic is only going to crash, burn, and leave behind more craters than the city has if you try it.

You shake them a little instead, not too hard, but enough to underline that you have highblood strength.

They go still, wide gray eyes frantically staring into yours. Sheesh, they can’t be older than seven. They’re a scrawny thing with flaky, stubby horns and clothing dustier than an abandoned basement.

You switch to Southern Desert Dialect from your usual Imperial Standard - you’re not very good at it, but you can get through a few sentences okay.

“Give me directions to the scribes’ market, and I’ll let you and your gang go. Or you can stay trapped.”

That’s probably the wrong form of that verb. The kid is certainly looking at you with a real sniffy expression.

You sigh. Everyone’s a critic.

They rattle off directions too fast for you to understand, and you have to make them repeat it twice - obnoxiously slow the second time - before you can understand and write down what they said.

Once you’re a good bit away, trudging down a long, winding flight of stairs down the side of a crater, you release the field around them.

You didn’t actually need the directions, but keeping up appearances in front of any better class of stalker (a few of whom no doubt saw that exchange) matters, as well as not arousing too many suspicions; most trolls don’t just let aggressors off scot-free, even if their attacks had as much effect as a squeakbeast trying to fight a dragon.

If only you could’ve actually helped the kids, but any offers of money or food would be highly suspicious. With any sense at all they’d suspect poisoning or drugs - or counterfeit cash designed to get them arrested.

Even a small increase to the lowblood stipend system could reduce muggings so much. Trolls are violent, and some are assholes with no good reason to be, but you’ve had projections done by people who know statistics and economic caste inter-dynamics way better than you do. Your proposed growth of caeger allowances could cut maroon to yellow crime by 70% in most areas.

Wow that’s an ominous looking arch in the doorway of this building.

Your thoughts scatter as you gaze up at the black stone structure, which stands at least twelve feet tall. Weathered by time but free of the decay and ruin marking so much else around it, it’s covered by spiraling golden script.

Speak with care, say two of the script’s languages - you don’t recognize the third one, strange rough gashes and dots in dizzyingly complex combinations. Words bear the greatest weight.

Not an unusual warning, but your neck still prickles a little as you pass under its shadow.

You blink as you walk in, surprised by how bright it is - there’s a big hole in the roof three floors up, and in the floors between the ground and said hole - so pink and green moonlight is pouring through.

It takes a moment for you to notice the actual stalls stretching on the ground floor as far as you can see - it’s a big dang building, and while it’s much more subdued than where you’ve been so far, trolls still have quiet, heated discussions over paper or parchment, ink and printing molds. Most are covered up as you are, and it’s not hard to guess why.

In Dimasqa, owning the wrong texts is a death sentence.

Wait, doesn’t that gap let rain and wind get in, mess up the books? You look up, squinting in the light, since there’s no clouds to cover the moons. Then you realize - there’s a slight psiionic aura over the hole, white or yellow sparks. Someone must be controlling what passes through it.

“Looking for someone?”

You turn quick enough to nearly smack the person who’s sidled up behind you, your fins puffed up to the base of your horns.

“Jeez, could you give a lady a little warning? That’s my pumper calisthenics done for the night, thanks so much. I’m glad you care about my health, but next time, I could just do water yoga.”

Commodore Weirdo pauses as they appear to puzzle through this one, which gives you a moment to study them.

What you can see of them. Not only are they covered from head to toe, they don’t seem to have any horns, or else they’re the kind that curl down around the face instead of up. They don’t seem that big physically, but their clothing flares out behind them and to their sides so much it’s a wonder people aren’t tripping over them left and right.

Only the glint of white, glowing eyes behind the veil confirms it’s a person under there and not a really elaborate puppet.

“Sorry.” They reply, and while it’s fairly neutral in tone, it sounds genuine enough. “I thought you were more alert than that.”

“Got a little distracted.” You point at the hole.

They look up.

“Some texts can only be read in direct moonlight, or under certain stars. A few require the blinding sun, with dark lenses to protect the eyes. Yet others require special glasses to be seen.”

You’re about to give them shit for sounding like a video game character - though their voice is oddly familiar in some way you can’t place - when they speak again in a more mundane tone.

“Also, we shoot the birds that fly in for food. So, how can I help you?”

“Are you the appointed tour guide? Where’s your dang name tag and badge, you fraud.”

They laugh, which is reassuring. If they’re trying to distract you while someone else sets up a hit, at least they enjoy your quality jokes.

A quick look around fails to locate any untoward interest in you. Everyone is occupied with their haggling or browsing, or curled up with a book in some corner. A few apprentices to what you assume is a master scribe are frantically copying down lines as their master barks at them, her monkey lusus adding its own mocking chitters.

You look up again for good measure, since any telekinetic worth their salt can float, but the higher stories are clear too.

“No one’s allowed to bloody up the stalls by attacking tourists. Bad for business, and the parchment sellers have skinned troublemakers before.”

Shit, are you that obvious? You glare down at the troll, who’s about a foot shorter than you.

They seem perfectly unconcerned.

“Pushing aside that telling some rando who I’m here to meet is really stupid, why do you want to help me? I’m flattered and all, but I was hatched a lot of yesternights ago.”

“I’m bored.”

“You are so valid, and yet I have to find it in my pusher to turn you down. It’s been real, peace.”

You turn around and forge onward into the crowd, looking for the section of the market that has fewer visitors and stands with armed guards, despite that doofus’s chatter about how fights are frowned on here. Maybe in the ordinary sections.

Books with powers lent to them by ancient psiionics. Books that talk about all the highblood castes’ weaknesses, politicians’ secrets and classified Imperial content.

Books of magic and viseralchemy.

Books written by the horrorterror worshippers who once ran the city, and if the stories are to be believed, warped and enslaved the people here to the point where the Empress herself sent her forces to save the last uncorrupted survivors.

By wrecking their shit! Happily ever after, ignore any and all better ways that could’ve been done.

Dimasqa’s never recovered in the millennia since, even if its black market obviously has. But hey - small victories.

After some sign deciphering, you see the one you’re looking for - Suppressed Religious Artifacts for Sale. Even illegal fencers have to be poncy with names, apparently. Does anyone think an Imperial spy would be fooled by a longer label?

Wait a second, isn’t that - oh come on.

The dope from earlier waves at you with what must be an artificial hand, made of some sleek dark gray material with glowing green lines on it.

“Ok, I’m a fan of playing practical jokes, but why didn’t you uh, I don’t know, say you were my contact?”

“You play around so much, I thought you'd enjoy another game.”

Good; they answered in the pre-arranged code.

With a sardonic smile and a flick of your fins, you gesture to the bolted waist-high (to a normal troll anyway) gate leading to the inside of their stall. With a flick of their fingers, it unlocks itself and you step through into the yet warmer confines of wood and tarp.

So they’re at least a telekinetic, and their control is very fine. You keep a wary eye on them while browsing their wares.

There's the usual horrorterror stuff - blatantly creepy monsters and warped troll-like figures standing side by side on the shelves - and more subtle things, everyday objects that make your neck prickle or cause nausea when you look at them directly.

Curled up angels share space with beasts and gods that probably come from minor, mostly forgotten religions. Cups, plates, and weapons engraved with extinct languages and ancient creatures are hung from various-sized pegs, all carefully polished.

Maidel would give his left arm for some of these. Too bad you can never tell him you were here.

“I don’t see what I’m looking for.”

The skepticism and question in your voice is plain.

“I locked it up for safekeeping.” They retort, the ‘duh’ in their voice plain.

If your face weren’t veiled, you’d stick your tongue out. Immature, yes, deserved, also yes. Especially because the heat is really starting to get to you, sweat running down your face and limbs.

You keep both eyes on them as they kneel down, reach under a table and take out a carved wooden box, inset with gems and buzzing with the same kind of feeling you got when you walked under the arch.

It’s not psiionic energy. It’s not any kind of magic you can immediately identify, though you’re not an expert.

It, and their voice, are still tantalizingly familiar. This is gonna bug you so bad.

The box rearranges itself into a small shrine, pieces flicking apart and re-aligning themselves in an upright shape. For the first time there’s a faint hiss and a wisp of white energy as they seamlessly re-align.

That can’t just be plain telekinetics. Matter manipulation? Tyrian tits, who is this troll?

If they’re a troll.

A look at the shrine - and the two figurines in front of it - makes you swear quietly.

Carved from rose quartz, one can only be you, except the face is intricately carved to be more cruel and imperious than your own is (at least, you goddamn hope people don’t see you that way).

You’re aiming a trident at another figure, a blueblood with their arms raised defensively who looks an awful fucking lot like Cherie...but they’re thinner and taller. The face is clearly meant to be more aged, and the horns are bigger.

Unthinking, you reach out a hand to touch them until the vendor swats you.

“Come on, Chimer, you’re smarter than that. What if they’d been cursed, or psi-affected?”

“Yeah, that’s fair - ”

You stop short.

They were never supposed to know your name.

Suspicion over your network and the possibility of being betrayed flares, but then you smile lazily.

“Soooooo. How’d you get ahold of these?”

Eat a dick, eat a dick, eat a barrel of dicks, you mother grub sphincter-sucking asshead.

If they’re a mind reader after all, that ought to get a reaction.

They shrug.

“Is that important? You just want to buy them, right?”

Not a twitch. Either they’re a hell of an actor, or they can’t really see into your head.

You know what? Fuck it.

With a click of your remote, a forcefield springs up around the pair of you, this one trapping all sound inside it and blocking the view of anyone watching.

You grab at their head covering -

- and get swatted down by a feathered wing reaching out, landing flat on your ass.

“Srevni.” You growl when you get your breath back.

They take their veil off, revealing a face that isn’t quite how you remember.

It’s not quite the beast they were before, but not their troll disguise’s either. Some strange hybrid of the two, their second pair of eyes smaller and angled under their primary ones. Their mane has become green tendrils sprouting from their head, and the big ring floating around their neck now rests around their collarbone, a snug fit.

Their orange throat eye blinks at you.

“I didn’t think you’d be pleased to see me, Chimer. I failed you, after all.”

You roll around your feelings in your head, trying to decide how not-pleased you really are.

“Look, I’m a lot more mad at Cherie right now than I am at anyone else.”

They nod, and while their face (less mobile than a troll’s) is hard to read, the drooping of their large pointy ears seems to indicate remorse.

“I figured if you were tracking down Liehde’s cult, it could only mean they’d resurfaced.”

“Hold up, who?”

They blink, and you can see the feathered tip of their tail poke out of the long clothing swaths. No wonder they bundle up so much.

“I thought you knew. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I’m here because Cherie popped up and had this in their hive.”

You stand up and take out the damaged Chimera figurine from your sylladex, handing it over to the hybrid creature.

Srevni takes it with careful fingers, their sharply pointed nose - almost a muzzle, really - nearly touching it as they lean in, poring over the thing.

“Only a replica, but they probably have an original somewhere.”

“You will score so many more points with me if you don’t put me through the same cryptic garbage as last time, pal. Please tell me you can talk normally now.”

“I’m getting there.” They huff. “Besides, I don’t know what you want to know because I don’t know how much you know.”

You blink.

“That's a trainwreck of a sentence, but fair enough.”

With a deep breath, you tap your fingers together and think.

“Cherie’s back, and they’ve made noises about trying to help my political aims - lowblood rights, all that jazz. Pure bullshit, you were there during their little timeline stunt and you saw all those helms suffer too. They couldn’t give less of a fuck about anyone below them - or above, given they janked Coloth’s shit up and down.”

As the words leave your mouth you realize this makes Cherie’s claims of teaming up with him weird, given they had no problems taking his stuff behind his back before. If there’s one thing you feel sure of about how they operate, it’s that they never deal directly with anyone unless it’s strictly necessary; the blueblood basically said as much during your last chat.

“Anyway, that’s about it. I mean, I know their bloodline was given their powers by Chimera, and one of them had been involved with making the rift, but beyond that...nothing. I didn’t even know they existed during the whole Echthros business. They almost don’t seem to fit in the picture at all.”

Srevni smiles - or well, you think it’s a smile, hard to tell with that jagged maw - and snaps their fingers, having put the figurine down.

“That’s exactly what drives Cherie. Their bloodline came before you, long before Chimera and Miruka found Tabula and Priori, before the razing of this very city. When the immortal influences found those women after their long search, they abandoned the original bloodlines they made. Those trolls’ only purpose had been ensuring that Alternian bodies could handle such power, so they were useless once they’d found the perfect hosts for their soul fragments.”

Your fins flick up and down, trying to understand, and then you snort.

“Are you saying Cherie feels ignored? Shit, they should be grateful the Dolcez line got left alone! Fat lot of good it did me or Tabula to be the center of attention. I’m glad pangosheep isn’t like that, one is bad enough.”

Srevni, to your surprise, doesn’t join you in mocking the cobalt. It’s weird, given their prior hatred of the troll (and what you suspect was a mega-weird pitch crush on them, in hindsight).

“Cherie’s silly, their original ancestor less so. Liehde - “ They gesture to the blueblood, carved out of what you think is lapis lazuli. “ - seems to have been raised by Chimera from grubhood, if the surviving accounts can be trusted. He took it pretty personally when she left him for you.”

You take off your dang coverings because no one can see the pair of you behind the field anyway and you can’t stand suffocating anymore. Beneath, you’re only wearing swim gear (a fuchsia crop top and black knee shorts, along with a half-skirt) so you don’t die of heat exhaustion, and Srevni looks at the ground for some reason.

Why would a non-troll creature care about modesty, especially when plenty of silly fuchsias wear less than this all the time? They make no sense.

“That’s real sad and all, but I swear Maidel said Cherie did have a lusus - a sugar glider. Why'd Chimera need to raise him? Why did she even care? She fucked right off after making my deal.”

You’re not jealous of this long-dead blueblood with some screws loose, but it does stick in your craw that the fluffy asshole apparently spent sweeps around some guy she was always going to abandon, and then left you with zero explanations or tips about what she’d stuck you with.

They shrug, hands splayed outward.

“I don’t have all the answers, Chimer. Why he had a real humdinger of a grudge doesn’t matter, only what he did about it.”

“Which was...?”

“Remember that cult I mentioned?”

Your mouth pulls back into a very annoyed frown.

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“Remember what Cherie did with the helms? Multiply that.”

A breath gets sucked in through your fangs.

“...he killed a bunch of people by draining them of power to do what, exactly?”

Srevni turns, and taps at the shrine.

The worn, painted images depict light beams coming out of trolls and into the man you now know as Liehde Dolcez. He’s holding up a clock - one that resembles your dear old tick tock.

Dude really was fixated. Must be genetic.

“His temple’s been searched, but no one’s ever figured out what he accomplished - if he managed it at all. There must have been a record somewhere, but it’s been so many sweeps; could be lost or destroyed by now.”

You stare at the images with growing unease.

“What did you mean when you said this was a replica, that Cherie probably had an original?”

“It seems they’ve visited Liehde’s temple themself and nabbed a few things - probably feel like they own them. This is a granite replica of a rare artifact. Originals are made of a material that can hold a low psiionic charge of almost any kind indefinitely. That, and that kind of stone being impossible to find now, makes them so valuable.”

“Ohhhh no.”

They wave a placating hand at you, their wings rustling.

“There’s not enough intact ones around for Cherie to do damage with even if they had them all. They can’t hold much anyway.”

You grit your teeth.

“Remember how Civitrecce is full of tech a million times fancier than anything here, Srevni? I’d bet my ducks Cherie’s trying to find a way to copy it somehow.”

“Even if they did, their actual power level is low, remember? Liehde’s writings whine that it was a way Chimera kept them from wreaking havoc.”

“She should’ve tried harder.” You mutter.

Looking at the creature in front of you is another reminder of why Chimera’s safeguards are worse than worthless.

Their expression hardens, you think, as they must catch yours.

“She didn’t force the Dolcez line to make their bad choices, Chimer. Any more than she forced you to make decent ones. You can’t blame her for everything.”

“Actually,” You drawl, sitting on the floor because you’re tired of standing. “Considering I wouldn’t exist without her and all of this is her fault, I can.”

Srevni sits as well, shedding their own clothing, wearing their more familiar leotard underneath, high-hocked doglike legs crossed and long feather-tipped tail curled in their lap. Their wings extend, fanning out and around the pair of you.

White wings tipped with bright teal. Echthros’s wings.

Your arms wrap around yourself as that night of the reset comes back to you.

“You still have trouble trusting me.”

The barest wisp of hurt runs through the words.

A few fangs sink into your lip, guilt blossoming.

“...does it help if I feel kinda bad about it?”

They laugh a little.

“Blanca stole my body and I had to flee the city. I found an energy source and restored myself to a solid form, but I’m stuck this way now. I’m always going to have her face.”

“Yeah.” You mutter, thinking of Tabula. “I know the feeling.”

“Look on the bright side; people don’t scream or shoot if they see you without a dozen layers on.”

Thinkpan catching up, you raise a finger to stop them.

“Waitasecond, Blanca stole your body? Why?”

They shrug.

“She thinks I’m Echthros and decided revenge would be fun. It was really annoying, but this form’s better than my original, even if...well, it could be worse.”

An uncomfortable pang of platonic pity strikes.

“How can you not constantly blame Chimera and Miruka for everything?” You marvel.

Srevni pulls their clothing back on, hiding their non-troll features again, and gestures for you to drop the shield.

The kid who threw the dagger is shifting from foot to foot at the front of their stand and launches questions at Srevni in Southern. From what you can understand they’re a girl, and also...an apprentice?

She points at you proudly and then gets what sounds an awful lot like a (fairly amused) scolding.

“Hadija says she’s sorry, but next time you should pretend to be hurt - it makes people feel better.”

You squint.

“Did you sic a child on me.”

Their jagged mouth is hidden, but you can feel the creature smiling behind their veil. Then you frown, mild indignation replaced by seriousness.

“...does she...know?”

You wave a hand vaguely.

“Hadija -” They ask her in Standard. “- what am I?”

“Weird woofbeast!” she replies in it proudly, tossing her horns.

“And?”

“Teacher!”

“What do I do?”

“Keeps the weather out!”

They toss her a coin and she snatches it, running off who knows where.

All you can do is blink as you watch her weave off among the stalls and roving trolls.

Srevni looks back at you.

“It’s not that I never resent them, Chimer. I’ve just moved on.”

With a blink, the shrine and figurines are hovering in front of you.

“These aren’t really cursed or anything, right. I won’t start coughing up frogs?”

“They could’ve been.” Srevni retorts, amused. Little shit.

Grumbling, you put them in your sylladex, then take out a suitcase from it.

“So, what do I owe you?”

“Five thousand.”

You take out enough stacks for ten thousand, putting them on a table.

“Feed Hadija and her friends a little more, try to keep them out of trouble.”

They snort.

“I can’t do miracles. I’ll see about the food and some better showers.”

Their sigh well speaks to how much trouble it must be to keep these gremlins clean.

You wouldn’t think a eldritch monster/troll hybrid would make a decent lusus, but this night’s been full of surprises.

An idea strikes as you put your own layers back on.

“If Cherie’s been to old Dolcez’s temple before, maybe they’ll come back. Could you set a trap in case they do? I’ll pay you.”

Srevni shakes their head, but then they speak, it’s with vindictive glee.

“No need. You get that on the hive.”

You grin and clap them on the shoulder.

They look away again, but now that you know what to check for, you see their tail wagging underneath their clothes.

What a bizarre creature.

“It’s been real, Srevs. I’ll contact you if something else comes up.”

“I can’t leave Dimasqa.” They warn. “My power source is here; beyond the city limits I wouldn’t be able to think, or keep my form.”

“I get you. Thanks, by the way.”

They tilt their head.

“For what?”

“Helping.”

They’re quiet for a minute, then speak in a slightly resentful tone.

“I'll always help you, Chimer. Not just because I was made to.”

A couple things finally click in your head and you feel kinda stupid, but also, why would you think they’d feel that way?

Now it’s you who doesn’t know where to look.

“Jeez, Srevs. I swear I never realized.”

They sigh.

“You never did, in all the time I knew you before.”

Then they laugh, and nudge you back.

“It’s fine. Go back and stop Cherie from whatever they’re cooking up.”

Before Srevni can turn away you give them a hug, feeling their wings trying to flare in surprise beneath your arms.

Then they hug you back.

You wave to them as you walk away, then turn, making your way back through the market’s crowds with the moonlight shining down behind you.

END

#cloud writes #chimer latrai #srevni #decipula ex memoriae #this is almost 5k hot damn

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writing-royza · 5 years

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Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Twenty-one - Hidden Danger

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! I hope you all had a good week. Not much going on, so I’ll just leave you with Chapter Twenty-one. Enjoy! I do not own FMA.

Chapter Twenty-one - Hidden Danger

UNINHABITED SECTOR, CITY OF JADAD, ISHVAL

1323 HOURS, APRIL 23RD

The search didn't get underway until afternoon, just after a hasty midday meal. With the stress and distraction of the last day or so, Roy hadn't been interested in any kind of regular meals, and so hadn't much noticed the food in front of him when he did eat.

Ishvalan food, he was coming to realize, was as no-frills and hearty as the people, with an exotic flavour and a heat that lingered pleasantly on the tongue. Whatever spices went into the good, simple food, he would have to find out; he was no great shakes at cooking, but perhaps he and Riza could make a study of it together….

Of course, he had to find her first, and get her back to her old self.

And so, he set off alongside Scar into the bright sun of early afternoon, carrying a scaled-down copy of the city map on the Reconstruction office wall, with three locations to be scouted circled in red. At last, there was something to do, some affirmative action to be taken, rather than planning or waiting to be instructed.

"Scar," he began, his eyes on the dust-swept street ahead, "I want to thank you." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the larger man look his way, and pressed on. "That you're going to these lengths to help an Amestrian soldier, one who took part in the civil war…. You didn't have to get involved like this. I appreciate it."

The other was quiet for a moment, then said, "It isn't the first time I've done so. Or the first time I've been thanked for it."

Roy lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I didn't have to help stop you from destroying the Homonculus Envy out of vengeance," he pointed out. "But as I told Edward Elric, I know what vengeance does to a man, and I knew your skills would be needed elsewhere. Such as here."

When Roy looked over, somewhat shamefaced at the reminder, he was surprised to find the corner of Scar's mouth pulled back in the smallest of imaginable smiles. "You were too busy bickering with the Elric boy to hear, but your Lieutenant thanked me. For stopping you. And so, out of courtesy to her and for the safety of my own people… I am here."

He stopped me from acting in anger, and she thanked him, Roy mused to himself. And if we find her first, he'll help stop her from giving in to this thing that's taken her over. And I'll thank him, bowing at his feet if I have to.

The first location they were set to check was a seminary students' residence overlooking a broad courtyard. Roy glanced around at the once-impressive architecture, now fallen into disrepair. Stone benches sat beside shallow depressions that had once been small pools, and the few shade trees that had once been so carefully cultured and tended were now bare, bone-dry, and shrivelled-looking.

He could picture the students walking here, talking over their lives or their studies, studying quietly in the shade or while dabbling bare feet in the pools. This had once been a place of peace, of contemplation and learning. All things that Riza herself valued…. But then she had no way of knowing what this place was, aside from matching the things he thought she would look for in a place to hide.

The double front doors of the seminary were slightly off-kilter, the right one hanging at a slight angle to create a gap. Scar pulled it open slowly, a fraction at a time to prevent any telltale squeaking or grating of hinges. A scattering of dust was spread over the floor, blown through the gap by any wind from the right angle.

Scar opened the door just wide enough to slip his burly frame through; without a word, Roy followed him inside, only to be stopped by the big man's hand bumping gently against his chest.

"Wait here." He glanced back over his shoulder. "You are lighter, but I move more quietly."

He couldn't argue with that, but it didn't stop him from trailing silently along the wall, his eyes travelling up to the vaulted ceiling of the foyer. The architecture was spare, made of the same dun-coloured sandstone with what appeared to be Ishvalan sigils carved around the perimeter at knee height. But where Amestrian design might have placed a glass dome on the roof or tall panes of glass in the building face as windows… there were none.

A wide set of stairs across from the doors spiraled up to a balcony overlooking the entryway, and it was in this direction that Scar headed. He walked stealthily, bent slightly at the waist, his steps rolling from one foot to the other in soundless motion. Keeping his eyes roving over the balcony above, he started up the stairs, keeping close to the wall. Roy tried not to notice that the man's right hand – the destruction hand – was held ready to flex and unleash its power.

But Scar reached the top of the stairs with no incident, and disappeared briefly from view, presumably to check potential hiding spots not visible from the ground floor. Roy held his breath, listening for the sounds of a sudden scuffle or the thud of a heavy male body hitting the floor…. Silence.

Reappearing at the dusty balcony rail, Scar beckoned him wordlessly.

"Searching the dormitories will go more quickly if we split up," he murmured, the low timbre of his voice echoing faintly in the open space. He pointed off down a hallway to Roy's left. "Open every door, look in every room. If you come across one that's locked…."

He glanced pointedly at Roy's hands, his meaning obvious.

Yet Roy hesitated. "I've been trying not to use alchemy since I arrived," he murmured back. "You're sure it won't be some kind of… offense?"

Scar shook his head, already turning toward a second hallway in another direction. "With the rest of my people, yes, but not with me, Colonel. I understand that desperate times call for desperate measures."

And if there were ever desperate times….

Starting off along his allotted hallway, Roy zigzagged slowly left to right, opening first one door, then the next, then the next… The first room was filled with dusty, battered-looking sleeping pallets. When this place was in its heyday, they had likely been very comfortable and well-kept, but the several years of neglect had done their sinister work.

The second room proved to be a bathroom done in clay tile with pewter fixtures. Time and disuse had dulled the metal and discoloured the ceramic sinks, and a pipe leak had caused an anomaly: algae appeared to be growing on the wall under the sink closest to the door. A quick check of the stalls, and then Roy returned to the hallway.

The third door was locked.

Gritting his teeth, Roy took a deep breath. A locked door in an abandoned place like this could mean two things: either something valuable or dangerous… or Riza. Clapping his hands together, careful to do it quietly, he touched gently probing fingers to the doorknob.

The potential pathways for the energy sprang to life in his mind, showing him the shape of the metal and how it could be manipulated. Roy focussed on the locking mechanism. No way to really pick it with alchemy like this; it was too fine-tuned a task. He settled for simply destroying it, leaving the knob to turn freely.

Bracing himself, he swung the door wide, ready to dive out of the way if an attack came toward him… and was surprised to discover a room with four two-person tables, a desk at the far end, and shelves of books lining the walls.

A study hall, he realized with a mild jolt. He should have expected to find a place such as this; it was at least affiliated with a school of some type. Students needed suitable spaces to do their assignments… and this space reminded him of the small personal library where he had spent so much time of his own studies. He was a stranger in a strange place and yet he could still find things to remind him of her.

DERELICT BUILDING, CITY OF JADAD, ISHVAL

1503 HOURS, APRIL 23RD

She was fading in and out of a light doze when she first became aware of the faint voices from outside. Riza's newly over-sensitive ears pricked, her eyes opening to the almost complete blackness of the room as she listened. Weariness tugged at her, not so strongly as if she were in sunlight, but reminding her gently that this was the time for sleep.

When the voices sounded again, slightly louder this time, she pushed aside her fatigue and rose.

The room she had chosen to hide in was on the second floor of a building that had once been some sort of inn. Each room opened on to a walkway, with one walkway wrapping around the outside of the building and another bisecting each floor to lead to the central stairwell. Her windowless room led off this centre hall, where the light of day did not reach so easily. It was nothing more than a linen storage closet, but with one shelf cleared except for a spread-out sheet and a pillow, it was comfortable enough.

The voices were still advancing, but distant enough to suggest that their owners were in the street, not within the building itself. However, sound carried well in these corridors, bouncing from one surface to another, meaning they could be closer than she thought. Her bare feet making no noise on the stone floor, Riza eased toward the door, pressing her ear to the wood.

Two men spoke in Ishvalan, their tones conversational and businesslike by turns. Judging by cadence alone, she suspected them to be warriors, possibly out searching for her. Their likely thought was that a deserted inn would be an incredibly convenient place for a fugitive – four walls and a roof, probably a bed, some kind of plumbing. She could only hope they wouldn't think to check the linen closet.

A part of her knew that she didn't need to kill anyone that happened across her; she had strength now to subdue most attackers instead of ending them outright. But another part – a stronger, much larger part – also knew that anyone who crossed her path was fair game for the hunger coiling in her stomach. If she gave in to that, if she sank her sharpened canine teeth into someone's throat and drank the blood that spilled out… she might not be able to stop herself from taking too much. And if that person happened to be a friend –

The voices were receding in volume, their owners moving away from the building, and Riza turned away from the door. Settling back into the little bunk she had fashioned, she stared up at the underside of the shelf above her and tried to calm her unsteady thoughts. Her mind threw images at her, first of Roy smiling his fond smile at her, and then those dark eyes filling with surprise as she sank her teeth into his neck.

Closing her eyes tightly, she willed the images away… but they came creeping back. Different views of Roy came to her – peacefully asleep in a bed beside her, his naked body over hers, his grin wide at some joke – but always with the same ending. Shock, pain, and betrayal as she gave in to the hunger and bit him.

And Riza knew, somewhere deep in the back of her mind, that would be the fastest way to make him hers.

MARKETPLACE, CITY OF JADAD, ISHVAL

1614 HOURS, APRIL 23RD

It was a hot and dusty group that gathered in the deserted marketplace at the end of the search. They trickled in in pairs, gathering around the large well in the centre. Though it was old, it had been dug deep enough that the water remained cold, clear, and fresh. Ramshackle structures that had once been vendors stalls circled outward from this central point, bare and deserted now, but still offering a bit of shade for the weary search party.

Roy sat on the edge of what had once been a table for displaying someone's wares, sweat cooling on his forehead and the back of his neck tingling with the beginnings of a sunburn. Dark eyes watched the rest of the searchers getting drinks from the well's sturdy wooden bucket, speaking quietly with each other, and dispersing to find their own pieces of shade while they waited for further instruction.

"I suppose we'll have to revisit the list of possible places," he said aloud to the man sitting beside him. "We must have narrowed it down too far and missed her."

Scar nodded, his back straight, hands resting in his lap and eyes closed in momentary meditation. "We will wait to hear the others' reports, and then make our decision."

As soon as the last pair of searchers had reached the marketplace and quenched their thirst from the well, Scar rose from his seat and moved into the centre of the group. He raised his voice to be heard, speaking in Ishvalan. Roy shifted, his heart sinking as realized they would be delayed even farther if Scar had to spend time after the briefing filling him in on everything….

"He's thanking everyone for their help in looking for the Lieutenant," a young man said from his left. He had slipped around to Roy's spot, leaving his own partner. "And asking if anyone found anything of interest, whether it relates to her or not."

Partway across the group, a man's hand rose, and after he received a nod of acknowledgement, he began speaking, his hands moving as he spoke.

"He says the came across her footprints at one point," the young man interpreted. "About two hundred metres from the amphitheatre where she was last seen. They know no one has come out this way yet, and certainly not barefoot as she was. They followed them briefly for perhaps five or ten minutes, until they turned down an alley." He frowned. "It was a dead end; a wall reached about ten feet into the air, and her tracks just… disappeared. They entered the alley but did not come back out."

A ten-foot wall and disappearing footprints…. Roy supposed that in this new state of hers, it wouldn't be overly difficult for her to scale such an obstruction. Even before, with her military training and time spent on obstacle courses, it would only have presented a difficult challenge, not an impossibility.

The interpreter was still speaking quietly, his voice overlapping those of Scar and the reporting searcher. "The banam manav asks what sort of buildings the footsteps ended near, so that they might be targeted for searching later…. The searcher says there were some houses, a few shops… and a… do you call it a 'house for bathing?'"

"A bathhouse," Roy supplied, frowning slightly. "What was you called him – the man in the centre?"

The other smiled, sadly. "To you and to others outside our borders, he is known as Scar, yes? For the mark on his face?" Roy nodded. "Names are sacred to the Ishvalan people, Colonel. The man you call Scar cast his name away and so can have no other. Our people call him banam manav – the 'nameless human.'"

Roy raised an eyebrow. "I see. And what's your name?"

Dipping his head in a brief, introductory bow, the man smiled. "I am Wajed, Colonel, and pleased to meet you." He gestured to another man nearby. "But there is more news."

A man had gotten to his feet, crossing toward Scar with something held in his fingers. Scar took it, turning it over and examining it, before holding it up in Roy's direction but speaking to the group at large.

"It is a piece of cloth torn from the Lieutenant's clothes," Wajed translated. "They are confident it is hers because it appears undamaged by exposure. It was found near where the other man found the footprints in the alley, stuck on a nail sticking out of a board beside a storehouse." His eyes lit as Scar asked a question. "Storehouses have no windows, to keep out damaging sunlight, so she may have– oh."

Roy felt his own rising hopes fade as the light disappeared from the young man's eyes. "The storehouse was on their list of places to search, but they did not find her there."

Taking a deep breath, reminding himself not to give up so easily – because Riza certainly wouldn't – Roy sat straight and listened attentively to the reports' translations. There were two more sightings of footprints, each one slightly farther east than the last, but nothing more.

Finally, Scar motioned Roy forward, making one last comment as he did. "He wants you to say a few words," Wajed murmured, before turning and heading back to his search partner. Roy felt his stomach flip in sudden nervousness, but managed to keep it off of his face as he slipped from his seat in the table and emerged into the sunlit open space.

Eighteen solemn faces looked back at him, some with curiosity but others with straight-faced neutrality. A feeling of vague unease settled into the pit of his stomach, but aside from that, he paid it no mind. He drew himself up to his full height, and began.

"First of all, I'm sorry I can't give you my thanks in your own language. You certainly deserve it for all you've done. That being said, it's important to me that you know I'm grateful for your help." Roy kept his smile small – thankful but not an overt showing of emotion. "Myself and my Lieutenant are visitors to your lands, and to have such support in looking for her is comforting. We may not have found her today, but I'm confident that we will tomorrow."

He waited as Scar finished translating for those who could not understand the Amestrian words, his eyes scanning the group. There were a few understanding smiles, but his message seemed to have been received favourably.

An instant later, he was wondering if he had been too quick in that assessment. A prickle began at the back of his neck and he had to consciously keep tension from lifting his shoulders, his gaze turning more alert as it swept over the group once again. This feeling, one he had had several times before, he had always associated with unfriendly eyes upon him. Rival officers, Homonculi… and now perhaps something more sinister.

The sentiment was confirmed as the group of men broke into a smattering of polite applause, every face holding some degree of a smile. The feeling remained; it wasn't from one of them. And as Roy stood, listening to the response to his words, a sinking realization came trickling in.

Forcing steadiness into his movements, he turned to where Scar stood at his left shoulder, keeping his voice somewhere around a murmur. "We were looking for an open space with significance," he said, not quite urgently. "One with tall buildings nearby without too many windows where she could keep watch. This place was searched?"

Scar was almost instantly on the alert, though it showed only in the red eyes and the near-perfect stillness of his body. "Several of the buildings around it were," he answered. He gave Roy a critical look, assessing. "What is it?"

"Just a feeling. A bad one." He glanced back at the group, now beginning to murmur among themselves when it was clear their leaders were in private conference. "Look, we were due to start back toward the settled area soon. We'll go a block or so, and then I'll circle back and see if there was something the searchers missed."

The larger man shook his head. "That's a high risk for potentially very little payoff. And suppose you do find her? What then?" His gaze turned hard. "Colonel, this new personality she's gained has made it very clear how little regard she has for the lives of others. Even yours."

Roy's glare was equally firm. "I never said I was planning to try and speak to her. I just want to know where she is so that we can form a plan to bring her back in."

Scar had seen the lie and Roy knew it, but there was nothing for it now. Red eyes glanced up at the group, then back to him. "Very well. We will beginning leaving… but when you break off to circle back, I will come with you." He took a pair of steps forward, preparing to address the search party, his final words on the subject tossed back over his shoulder. "You need a bodyguard from your bodyguard, Colonel."

She was growing restless in the dark. Snatches of voices still floated occasionally to her, and each time, they woke her. Finally, Riza slipped from her shelf-bunk and began pacing the small space, trying to work the shivery feeling from her legs. It was a feeling that begged her to let them run, to let them be stretched, to burn off the energy building slowly in her muscles before it drove her crazy.

Soon, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. Soon the sun will be down, soon you can go outside, and soon – The hunger shifted in her stomach, reaching achingly up to tighten her throat. – you can find something to keep from starving to death.

Soon, too, her visitor would arrive in the city. There was still a faint pressure in her mind, so delicate that she had to concentrate to feel it, but it was only the daylight weakening the mystical connection. When it grew stronger again, she would know for certain it was safe to leave her little hideaway.

Looking around at her surroundings, Riza came to the decision that, if there were going to be two of them in proximity, they were going to need something more spacious than a closet. Perhaps that storehouse she had passed up the night before? She had discounted it then because it was so obvious, but this long after the fact, she was relatively sure they would have already searched such a space and others like it. It should be safe enough now.

She had just begun mentally plotting the route back to the storehouse when a new voice spoke up outside. Her head came up, swivelling toward the door, enhanced hearing straining to catch each word and be sure…. Yes. Yes, it was definitely him.

Her smile widened. Of course he had joined the hunt for her himself. Why wouldn't he? If there was one man who knew the mind of Riza Hawkeye, it was him, and he would be only too quick to offer his knowledge of her. Or, well… his intellectual knowledge. The carnal, he would keep to himself.

Still grinning broadly at her own little joke, she moved to the door, reaching for the time-tarnished brass knob… and hesitated. No, there was still sunlight out there. Even in the shade of the hallway, she would be weakened even farther than she already was. Light of any kind on her body would drain her quickly, and her strength might not return until nightfall. If she were spotted and had to run, her chances would not be good.

After only a second more of internal debate, she opened the door wide.

Her breath caught as she stepped into the dim shadows of the hall, feeling fatigue creeping up her arms and threatening to buckle her knees. She forced herself to inhale the warm, still air, forced her feet forward toward the sound of that familiar voice, one hand on the wall to aid her fickle balance. It hadn't been this bad the day before, walking to the amphitheatre for the ill-fated yantir, but then again, the sun had also been on its way down at the time.

She reached the edge of the hall, where it opened onto the mezzanine leading to other rooms and the wide space of the marketplace beyond and below. Leaning against the wall, shading her eyes against the sun's glare, she stood just inside the shade where the hated beams could not reach her.

There was a group of about twenty people in the market below, all men, most wearing the robes and shoulder sash of the priesthood. In the centre, side-on to her as they faced the others, were Scar and Roy, who had, by all appearances, just finished speaking. Scar was translating, the foreign words flowing easily off of his tongue. The group seemed tired after their fruitless search… but not dispirited. Riza pursed her lips in mild annoyance. That was bad news for her; if they felt defeated in their efforts, they were less likely to try again.

She was still watching, her eyes on the back of Roy's head, when she saw him catch on.

Freezing instantly, she watching his head move slowly from one side to the other, scanning the group before turning to speak quietly to Scar. Moving with agonizing slowness, Riza shifted to a crouch, putting the wrought iron of the mezzanine railing between them. It wasn't perfect shelter, but it would at least hopefully confuse the weaker human eyes and prevent detection.

There were a few brief seconds of murmured discussion, and then Scar stepped forward again. One brief comment over his shoulder, and then he was giving orders. Riza dropped flat to her stomach on the dusty floor of the hallway, the familiar prone position of a sniper but minus the weaponry.

With her eyes level with the far edge of the mezzanine, all that was visible of Roy was his head and shoulders. Still watchful, he looked slowly around the entire area, his gaze lighting for a brief moment on the second floor of the inn and the dim inner hallway.

Riza's breath caught for a second time at the sight of those dark eyes. Intelligence, suspicion, and tactical savvy were all there, even at this distance, underlined by the set of his jaw as the stare moved onward, the man himself stepping slowly toward the rest of the search party. Leaving her unseen.

The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten suddenly dry lips, in time with a sudden urgent clench in the pit of her stomach. She wanted those eyes on her again, wanted her fingers in the messy tousle of dark hair, wanted his lips on hers and everywhere else. Heat blossomed in her cheeks and behind her ears, slithering down the back of her neck to her spine. Forget wanting his eyes, his hair, his lips… she just wanted him.

How long had it been now? How long since that last, lascivious tumble in the back of the supply truck? Two days, three… she didn't quite know anymore. Strange how conversion to a new, better form had the effect of messing with a person's internal clock.

Carefully, with patient slowness, she began wriggling backward, deeper into the hallway. The motion stirred the wanting ache in her, making its stoked flame flare a little brighter for a brief moment before she wrestled it back under control. She would return to her hiding place, calm herself, and keep a lookout for anyone else that came searching, whether it was the party below, the stranger still slowly approaching from the north side of the city, or Roy himself.

And if it was Roy…. Well, if he was willing and she played her cards right, there was no real reason why that little wanting ache should have to go unsatisfied.

Even if, in the process, his neck fell victim to her fangs.

The search party wound through the deserted streets of the disrepaired city in two parallel lines. Roy stayed toward the back, watching Scar at the front of the column for their chance to break away and double back. The prickle on the back of his neck had faded as they left the marketplace, but the sense of unease that accompanied it had settled persistently between his shoulder blades.

In the initial search, there had only been four buildings around the marketplace's perimeter marked as possible, and the men who had swept them hadn't found any sign of Riza. She was good, Roy knew, but even she wasn't flawless at covering her tracks in an unfamiliar environment. There would have been something. Going on his memory alone, there were at least three other buildings of note around the marketplace square… but how many of them would be suitable for a newly turned vampire?

The last thought rocked him mentally for a moment, the word 'vampire' echoing around in his mind. He still had trouble reconciling what was supposed to be a fantasy term, a fictional creature, with the woman he'd known for years. With the woman he loved… even if she wasn't exactly the same woman anymore.

It was comforting — how ever slightly — to know that vampire lore always spoke of ways to reverse the… the curse, he supposed. Granted, several of them involved the suspected vampire already being dead and in a grave, but there was exactly one he knew of that should reverse the effect. If Riza hadn't been dead when she was finally turned, and not enough time had elapsed for her natural life to be over, then —

Motion ahead broke his train of thought; Scar turning to speak to Wajed, who was following just behind him, and then stepping aside to let the column pass. He spoke in Ishvalan to the group, but from the waving gesture he gave, it was clear he was ordering them to follow after the new leader.

Roy stopped where he was, waiting as the larger man made his way back to him, his face serious. "Should we circle around to the other side of the marketplace? Come at it from a different direction?"

Scar glanced skyward, judging the height of the sun. "Sunset will be beginning in an hour and a half," he commented. "We would be losing time that could be spent searching." He started back the way they had come. "We will use the same avenue, but we will be cautious. Stealthy."

They retraced their steps, covering the distance in roughly five minutes and in relative silence but for Scar's murmured directions. Nervousness began to flutter in Roy's stomach, at what they would find or, potentially, the lack thereof. He was willing to admit, if it came down to it, that recent events had him feeling overly suspicious and on edge… but he knew the sensation that had caught his attention in the square. He had spent six months with that feeling, worried that Selim was watching his every move.

The only good thing the Homonculi, Bradley, or their Father had ever given him: a good healthy sense for when he was being watched.

The shadows were stretching long in the sun from the two and three-storey buildings around the edge of the market square, silence laying thick and heavy on the air. Roy suppressed a shudder; total silence in an urban environment was far creepier than he had anticipated it would be.

They slipped into the shadowed overhang of a colonnade to one side of the square, both of them eyeing the buildings. Scar was the first to speak. "Where shall we start?"

Frowning in thought, Roy crouched, the better to see the buildings past the overhang. "I know I said that any building with too many windows should be counted out… but I'm not sure that method will work. I know I felt something when we were here before, but I couldn't tell where she might have been watching from and I didn't see anything."

"Yet you know it was her. Watching." Scar nodded in understanding. "A good instinct. But you did not answer my question."

Standing straight, Roy tilted his head toward the door closest on their right. "We might as well start here and work our way around the square. Sooner or later, if my 'instinct' is right, we'll find something. Either Hawkeye, or some trace of her."

The iconography on the sign over the door identified it as a former bakery. The single plank nailed across the door did not prevent their entry long; the dried, desiccated wood was no match for Scar's right hand.

The interior proved dusty, but otherwise undisturbed. No footprints of recent passage, not even by mice or insects. Chairs were set neatly upside down on tables, the counter tidy and free of any clutter or the smallest of crumbs. A glass-domed cake plate sat empty, harbouring nothing but stale air.

Roy paused in the doorway before entering to search more thoroughly, taking a quick count of the other ground-level doors around the perimeter of the square: twenty-two. Blowing out a breath, he ducked inside the stagnant warmth of the bakery. If they wanted to make any kind of progress before sundown — and its now inherent, potential danger — they would have to work quickly.

#fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza #royai #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #tainted blood

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eleteo125 · 5 years

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12 Days of Christmas Challenge Day 8

@mha-xmas-challenge

Day 8: Decorating the Tree/ “DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A SNOWMAN!~”

Christmas season is here! Which means it’s time for decorating. It’s gonna be so much fun! Everyone decorated their building with their own theme. The support department was decorated to look like santa’s toy factory. There are elves and gift boxes littered around the building and mechanisms surrounding the dorm building making it look like the factory. The mechanisms around the building also functions to give the appearance that the ‘factory’ is operating.

The general education department’s building is a winter wonderland. Snow is everywhere on and around the building. Large snowflakes decorated the walls of the building. Snowmen is littered everywhere. There was even a small hill of snow that you can sleigh down in the provided sleigh on top of the hill.

In the hero course…they haven’t decided yet.

“Santa and the reindeers flying through the roof of our building!” Kirishima suggested

“Oh, and with Santa coming down the chimney!” Kaminari added

“What about a tree? The largest tree there is full of lights and ornaments!” Toru proposed

“How about Christmas lanterns throughout the building?” Sero asked

“Oh! How about we make the building look like a gingerbread house with gingerbread men out front.” Sato said

Everyone hummed in agreement. “That is going to look so delicious!” Mina exclaimed

Iida and Momo arranged a meeting on the theme of the decorations they are to put up. “Then it is settled!” Iida proclaimed

“We’ll have gingerbread themed decorations. We can start looking and making decorations later today.” Momo said

“Why not now? I know this amazing craft store near the school!” Mina said “We can get started now once we have the supplies.”

“Very well, Yaoyorozu and I are to join you to this trip to see the materials we are to work with.” Iida said “You’re all dismissed! You can stay if you wish to join us with our shopping.”

Mina, Jiro, Kaminari, Kirishima, Toru, and Ojiro stayed behind. Mina then informed everyone of the place they’ll be getting the supplies from. They all got ready and went out.

Outside, they saw Class 1-B already decorating their building with Monoma yelling orders. “HONENUKI, HOW ARE THE GLASSES GOING?!”

“NOT VERY GOOD!” he shouted from the top of the building.

“WELL YOU BETTER MAKE IT GOOD BECAUSE WE NEED TO FINISH THE GLASS DOME BY THE END OF THE DAY!”

Honenuki looked at the overwhelming amount of glass beside him. “WHY DON’T YOU COPY MY QUIRK AND HELP ME SO WE CAN FINISH THIS SOONER!” he suggested. He waited for a response but gone none. He sweat dropped knowing that Monoma left the conversation as soon as he heard the word help.

“Whose idea was it again to turn our building into a snow globe?” he asked Kendo who brought up another stack of glass to the roof by using her quirk.

“Monoma. You know how extra he can get.”

“And who agreed to his idea?”

Kendo also sweat dropped, guilty for what he’s implying. “Ehehe, I didn’t know it was gonna be this hard.”

“We’re literally putting a glass dome over our five story dorm building.”

“Guess I was too busy fantasizing about the idea that I didn’t consider how difficult it really is.” She said scratching the back of her head.

Honenuki sighed before softening the glasses “Call Tsuburaba, we’re gonna need his solid air to actually for a dome.”

Meanwhile, back down, Monoma was busy bragging about their (his) idea and how creative and unique it is from the rest to students from 1-A.

“I’m sure that whatever you thought of and what you planned has nothing compared to ours. Why, it must be the most unique one out of all the buildings around here.”

“I don’t know. I think the support department’s building is better.” Toru whispered to Ojiro. But Monoma heard it and he grew a tick mark.

“What did you say? Our design is more amazing! Much more amazing than yours!”

“Monoma, this isn’t a competition.” Iida reminded him

“Ha! Maybe it should be, because we’re the ones who’ll win—“ he was cut off by Kendo’s hand chopping his head, resulting in him to collapse

“I am so sorry about him. You know how Monoma is.”

“It’s completely fine.” Momo reassured her “We just came to ask how things are going along with you decorating.”

“We’re getting there. We still have a few kinks to work on.” She said glancing at Honenuki and Tsuburaba struggling to decide if they should start making the dome from bottom to top or top to bottom. They were having quite the debate there. “But other than that and Monoma being bossy, everything’s fine.”

“That’s good to hear. Well, we are off now, we still need some supplies.”

“Okay then, good luck everyone!”

Kendo waved them goodbye as they walked away when they were out of sight, she pulled Monoma in the building to lock him in his room, cause their classmates have enough to deal with trying to make their (his) idea work. They don’t need his dictatorship on top of it.

After shopping for supplies, they were quick to start decorating the building. Sato made a design of a gingerbread house with a real gingerbread house as a reference. But everyone couldn’t stop themselves from gobbling it up. Good thing that everyone took a picture of it from every angle and used the photos as reference instead for their decoration.

Sero taped up the large peppermints and candy canes made out of Styrofoam and made sure that the sprinkles are attached firmly and properly so that it won’t fall off. Uraraka and Midoriya put a blanket of ‘frosting’ on the roof while Kirishima and Koda lined the windows and balconies with foam designed to look like frosting. Jiro and Mina put wallpaper that look like crackers on the building while Iida and Momo make a pathway using matts that they designed to look like crackers. And Todoroki was currently making popsicles out of the lamp posts without damaging it.

“It sure is starting to look delicious.” Momo pointed out.

Iida looked at their progress so far and found it very delicious looking. “Yes. It’s also very pretty.” Iida looked pretty.” Iida looked at Momo and smiled at her which she gladly returned it. Both of them feeling proud that they were able to lead their classmates into accomplishing something amazing.

It only took them two days to finish to decorating and they sure feel proud with the over all result. They’re all outside taking in the image of their gingerbreadified dorms.

“A gingerbread house?!”

The voice got all of their attention and it was Monoma. “Is that all you could think of?! You couldn’t think of a much more creative idea?! It looks like the great class 1-A isn’t so great after all! Ahahaha—“ he was cut off by Kendo’s hand chopping his head.

“You’re one to talk. We haven’t even finished decorating our building. Sorry everyone!” she said walking off

“So, uh, I made a gingerbread house as a reward! There’s enough for everyone so let’s all dig in.” Sato said breaking the ice

Everyone cheered at the mention of food and went inside. Everyone was silenced at the sight that greeted them. The common room was as plain as ever. The extravagant decorations outside sure made the insides look very plain.

“Ehehe, looks like we focused too much decorating outside that we forgot to think about in here.” Kirishima said

“DO NOT WORRY EVERYONE! We will find a way to fix this!”

“We can just go simple and just put up some garlands around the room and an average sized Christmas tree.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Uraraka! A cosy atmosphere seems perfect in contrast with our decorations outside!” Iida complimented

“The rest of you can enjoy Sato’s treat. Iida and I can handle it from here.” Momo said to which Iida agreed.

Once they were left alone, Iida rushed outside to collect some leaves that they’re gonna attach to the nylon strings that Momo made to make a garland. Iida also took a decent sized tree from the school’s forest before going in and setting everything up. To add some flare to the garlands, they added the small unused decorations to the garlands.

They called on Sero to help them speed up the set up of the garlands so that they can proceed to the tree. Momo and Iida put up the tree. “Woah! This tree sure is heavy despite its size.” Mom grunted “How did you even get it here?”

“I just pulled with all my strength.” Iida said letting out a final grunt when they finally got it standing upright.

“There we go! Iida, how many decorations do we have left?”

Iida checked the box containing the leftover decorations and presented it to her. “A fake candy cane and a lollipop.”

“Hmm, we should get some ornaments at the store. There are quite a few near here.”

“I’m afraid I cannot let you go outside. The weather forecast from this morning stated that a blizzard would be coming later today. And it was already snowing pretty heavily when I was on my way back.”

“Really?” Momo sighed in defeat “I really wanted to finish the decorating today.”

“There is also time for tomorrow.”

“But what if the blizzard is still here ‘til tomorrow?”

Iida smoothened a branch from the tree. “As much as we want to finish it today, we don’t have the material to do s—“ Iida stopped himself from surprise when he saw her put a Christmas hall on the tree. “M-momo, you can’t use your quirk you’ll overexert yourself.”

“My family and I are leaving for a vacation tomorrow night and I don’t want to leave the dorms when it’s unfinished.” She said creating fairy lights to put around the tree. Iida held her hand to stop her.

“You wouldn’t be able to enjoy your vacation if you’re extremely tired.” He insisted

“Don’t worry; I don’t plan to overexert myself that much. I’m making just enough for the tree to not look dull.”

Iida was hesitant but decided to proceed anyway. He insisted that he’ll just be the one to put the ornaments on the tree so Momo wouldn’t have to move around so much.

Momo’s tired state started to become more obvious the more object she creates. Momo created the last ornament; a star with UA engraved on it to put on top of the tree. The two of them took in the sight of the finished tree, and then all of a sudden, he felt something heavy on his shoulder. When he looked, he saw Momo leaning on him looking very tired.

Iida was about to say something about using her quirk too much but decided against it. What she needs now is rest and not a lecture. He picked her up and made sure that she’s comfortable in his arms. He carefully carried her to her room and laid her in her humongous bed and tucked her in.

“Iida…?” she groaned turning to face him

“Take your rest, Momo and I hope you have a good rest to have a good time in your vacation.” He said before walking off.

“Iida?” her small voice called to him halting his steps

“Yes?”

“I’m cold”

“Oh, would you like me to get you some more blankets?”

Momo shook her head which confused him “You don’t? Then what could I do to—oh. OH!” he realized what she meant when she motioned her head on the space beside her bed. Momo got a good nights rest that night since she had an amazing cuddle buddy that made sure she’s sound asleep.

#iida tenya #momo yaoyorozu #iidamomo #writing #day eight #decorating the tree #12-20-18 #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha

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juniorformulamotorsport · 6 years

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Tuesday, 18th September/Wednesday, 19th September 2018 – Kiev, Days 2 and 3

Day 2 was manic and intense work-wise, and the only sightseeing that was done was from the seat of a mini bus taking us back and forth from the hotel to the office, mostly while stuck in traffic that wasn’t much going anywhere. We did still manage to spot the National Circus of Ukraine, which has its own rather wonderful 1960s building, in grand Soviet style. Well, I say spot; it would have been hard to miss really.

Additionally, there were more of the fantastic murals to be seen (excuse the photo quality – these were all taken from inside a minibus moving at a variety of speeds). And no, I’m not sure what the significance of an inflatable dolphin is, but I was struck by how brilliantly executed it was.

Wednesday the Danish and German contingent would be flying out late afternoon, while those of us from London were not leaving for another day. Thus, we two found ourselves back at the hotel at around 16:30 with time on our hands and an ambition to keep going on the sightseeing front. We set off round the back of the hotel this time, eying up the stadium and realising just how big it actually is.

The nearby lamp posts are decorated with planters made to look like footballs, which amused us.

From there we passed a small park with what I now know is a memorial to Solomon Naumovich Rabinovic, better known as Sholem Aleichem (1859 – 1916), a Yiddish author and playwright whose stories about Tevye the Dairyman were the inspiration for the musical, “Fiddler on the Roof”. There were several other monuments in the same space so I may have misidentified it of course.

It’s fair to say that for the most part the history of the Jews in Kiev (and in the Ukraine in general) has been long but has not been easy or happy, and I did wonder if the mural we found is a a reflection of this. However, it’s an area of history that I don’t know a great deal about (so I’m going to have to go and do some reading before our next trip to Kiev).

The area we were now walking through obviously has quite a history and there are some fabulous buildings along the route we were taking, in a mixture of many grand styles.

We were heading initially for the Besarabsky Rynok (Бесарабський ринок) market hall because I wanted to take a look at it, and I know my colleague, A, likes that sort of thing too. It’s fabulous even at the tail end of the working day, and there are plenty of things to buy (including caviar which I don’t care for). In fact the caviar sellers seem to be very keen on engaging with you… I wonder why! It’s quite sizable, and was built between 1910 and 1912 to a design by the Polish architect Henryk Julian Gay, and is named after Bessarabia, claimed by Russia during the Russo-Turkish Wars and now part of the Odessa oblast. It has massive high ceilings…

And plenty of fresh produce.

It’s also fine looking from the outside.

From here we headed along the Tarasa Shevchenko Boulevard, which has a green strip running up the middle of it with traffic flowing (or not flowing depending on the time of day) on either side. We were aiming at the church we had only seen through the trees on our way to the office, Saint Volodymyr’s Cathedral. Prince Volodymyr the Great imposed Christianity on the Kievan Rus and in addition to a massive monument on one of the hills along the river Dnipro, also has a cathedral of his own, and a glorious thing it is too.

The building was completed in 1882 (30 years after the idea of it was first mooted to celebrate 900 years since the Kievan Rus’ were baptised) and it was another church to narrowly avoid being demolished under the Soviets. Instead it was turned into a museum of religion and atheism, and then remained closed until after WWII, when it was reopened as the main church of the Kiev Metropolitan See of the Ukrainian Exarchate. After the Soviet Union fell apart, it was a source of argument between two dominations, the Ukrainian Orthodox Church, which had autonomous status under the Moscow Patriarchy, and the new Ukrainian Orthodox Church Kiev Patriarchy, the latter eventually winning control of the cathedral. If you want to know more about the history of Ukrainian Christianity, the Wikipedia page provides a useful starting point, but be warned; it’s complicated. There was a service on when we went in (me with my hair covered with a scarf because it seemed unlikely I’d be allowed in otherwise), and it’s fair to say the congregation seems very diverse in age terms, and very devoted. The singing was stunningly beautiful, and A, who is also a musician and a composer was loving every minute of it.

I concentrated on taking photos (there’s a small charge if you want to take photos – I was happy to pay it). The interior is absolutely stunning, with an art nouveau feel to the work that decorates every available surface. Where there are no mosaics, there are paintings, the mosaics created by Venetian masters, the paintings the work of a group of painters under the guidance of Professor Adrian Prakhov. The frescoes were completed by 1896. The interior taken as a whole is almost overwhelming to anyone more used to the stark beauty of Western European cathedrals. It was all we could both do not to just stand and gaze an repeatedly say “Wow!” to each other.

We left the church and headed down past Saint Sophia’s, which was looking particularly fetching in the evening sunshine and stopped to take a look at the massive monument to Bogdan Khmelmitskiy, the leader of the fight for freedom against Polish oppression between 1648 and 1654. It should have been even bigger apparently, but there wasn’t enough money for the planned sculpture, only enough to create Bogdan on his horse. For six year’s they couldn’t even afford a pedestal. It ended up being mounted on some stone blocks left over after construction of the bridge over the Dnipro in 1888! He looks magnificent enough despite all of that.

Further along we stumbled across the monument to Saint Olga (Ольга), the grandmother of Volodymyr, whose cathedral we had just seen. As Princess Olga she was Regent of Kievan Rus’ for her son Svyatoslav from 945 until 960. The sculpture shows her flanked by Saint Andrew the Apostle, and Saints Cyril and Methodius (missionaries to the Slavic peoples). Olga was the first Christian ruler in Kiev and was baptized in Constantinople, though the dates are somewhat fuzzy. The monument itself, which dates from 1911, was removed by the Soviets and buried under the square in which it stands, and was restored in 1996, though using a copy of the statue of Olga. It was originally intended to be part of “The Historical Path” which would have been an alley of statues illustrating the history of Kiev.

From here we crossed the road to take a look at the beautiful blue church we had spotted on the first day. This turned out to be the recreated Saint Michael’s Cathedral (or Monastery). There has been a monastery here since the 11th century, founded by Prince Isyaslav of Kiev. It was his son, Sviatopolk (or Michael) who had a new stone church to Saint Michael built in the monastery precinct in 1108. With its golden roofs it was unsurprisingly known to all and sundry as St. Michael’s Monastery of the Golden Domes. It was added to, and decorated over the centuries, but in the 1930s the Soviet People’s Committee had the bell tower and several other buildings demolished, blowing up the monastery in 1937, leaving behind nothing but a pile of rubble. Between 1997 and 2000, post the fall of the Soviet Union, it was completely rebuilt and it looks incredible.

The Ukrainian authorities managed finally to persuade the Russians to return 18 of the 29 mosaics that had been taken from the original building, and were also able to obtain the return of the remaining frescoes from the Hermitage Museum. We didn’t have time to go inside but were able to roam the “territory” and admire the buildings, including the refectory, which is one of the few buildings that survived the Soviet period.

Behind the complex, we discovered the Kiev funicular, which takes you down to Podil (you can walk but it was a hot, sticky evening and we fancied the look of the funicular, which opened in 1905).

Having discovered that the funicular is part of the Metro system, and that it takes contactless payments for the 8 hryvnia fare (a stunning £0.24, 0.22€ or $0.29 US) we rode down to Podil just as dusk was falling. Podil runs along the bank of the Dnipro and is the old mercantile quarter. It seems to be where all of Kiev fetches up for an evening stroll, cycle ride, run or simply to sit and watch the river. There is a row of street food stalls, cafes, and hotels, with various amusements thrown in.

The Chernobyl museum is down here, but again we were far too late to go in. And we needed a beer. We chose a cafe that looked promising and sat out on the terrace watching the world go by. Shortly afterwards we noticed that there was some sort of light display being played out on one of the bridges.

Beer done with, we caught the funicular back up and headed back towards the hotel in search of dinner.

Travel 2018 – Kiev, Days 2 and 3 Tuesday, 18th September/Wednesday, 19th September 2018 - Kiev, Days 2 and 3 Day 2 was manic and intense work-wise, and the only sightseeing that was done was from the seat of a mini bus taking us back and forth from the hotel to the office, mostly while stuck in traffic that wasn't much going anywhere.

#2018 #Arts #Cathedral of Saint Michael #Cathedral of Saint Volodymyr #Cathedrals #Churches #Europe #Kiev #Monastery of Saint Michael of the Golden Domes #Murals #Museums #Sightseeing #Travel #Ukraine

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architectnews · 3 years

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Expo 2020 Dubai Italian Pavilion Building

Expo 2020 Dubai Italian Pavilion Building, Architect, UAE Design Project Photos

Expo 2020 Dubai Italian Pavilion Design

5 October 2021

Design: CRA-Carlo Ratti Associati and Italo Rota Building Office

Moving Architecture: Unveiling the Italian Pavilion Building at Expo Dubai 2020

Italy’s Pavilion at Expo Dubai 2020 opens to the public as an experiment into reconfigurable architecture and circularity. It features three boat hulls as the structure’s roof; a multimedia facade made with two million recycled plastic bottles; and a natural climate mitigation system that substitutes for air conditioning. The pavilion was designed by CRA-Carlo Ratti Associati and Italo Rota Building Office, with Matteo Gatto and F&M Ingegneria.

Photos by Michele Nastasi

Italian Pavilion at EXPO 2020 Dubai

Dubai, UAE, OCTOBER, 2021 – The Italian Pavilion building at Expo Dubai 2020, designed by CRA-Carlo Ratti Associati and Italo Rota Building Office, with Matteo Gatto and F&M Ingegneria, was officially unveiled on October 1st, 2021, as part of the first World Expo ever held in the Arab world. The project puts forward an all-encompassing vision for reconfigurable architecture and circular design involving some of Italy’s most innovative companies.

The pavilion features a multimedia façade made with two million recycled plastic bottles, new types of building materials – from algae and coffee grounds to orange peels and sand – and an advanced system for climate mitigation that constitutes an alternative to air conditioning. Reusing is also fundamental to how the structure was conceived. The pavilion utilizes three real-sized boat hulls, which could potentially set sail after the event, to create and shape the roof of the building. The Italian Pavilion extends over a surface of 3.500 square meters (38.000 square feet) and will be open until March 31st, 2022.

The Italian Pavilion envisions an architecture which challenges how buildings are usually developed for temporary events such as a World Expo, in which a lot of newly-built structures end up as landfill after just a few months. Contrary to that approach, the Italian Pavilion was conceived as an architecture that is able to transform itself through time, in a sustainable fashion. Three hulls, arrived in Dubai, become the roof of the pavilion, and after Expo, they could set sail to new destinations. The boat hulls also refer to the historical connections between the Italian and Arabian Peninsulas, thus hinting at the themes of both Italy’s participation in the Expo (“Beauty Connects People”) and Expo Dubai 2020 as a whole (“Connecting minds, creating the future”).

The three boat hulls that form the pavilion’s roof vary in length from 40 to 50 meters. They were produced with the contribution of Fincantieri, the largest shipbuilder group in Europe. The hulls are supported by more than 150 slender vertical steel pillars, each 27 meters high. In turn, they support a wave-shaped roof membrane made of ETFE pillows and a layer of perforated thin metal sheets that filter the sunlight. Seen from above, the hulls are coated in an innovative paint developed by paints and coatings company Gruppo Boero. They are the three colors of the Italian flag – green, white, and red – and form what might be the biggest ‘tricolor’ in Italy’s history (2100 square meters – 22.600 square feet).

The pavilion has no conventional walls. Instead, a curtain facade made of nautical rope, which also incorporates LEDs that can be lit to transform the facade into a multimedia surface, delineates the exhibition space. The nautical ropes are produced in recycled plastic, using the equivalent of roughly two million bottles, and form an intricate vertical meshwork that stretches almost 70 kilometers (43,45 miles) in length. At the close of the Expo, they will be reused again, in accordance with the logic of the circular economy. The use of the nautical ropes and a localized cooling system integrated with misting allow for extensive shading, natural ventilation, and better thermal comfort. The project strives to showcase more sustainable ways to cool our buildings and cities in the future.

Visitors enter the Italian Pavilion’s interior path via an escalator that takes them to a skywalk suspended 11 meters above ground level, right below the first hull’s nave. From this panoramic point, they can overlook the entire pavilion from a walkway that floats above the exhibition spaces and installations. Among the main spatial features are the Belvedere, a round structure topped by a dome, covered by wild herbs of the Mediterranean maquis, which evokes Renaissance gardens. Here, spirulina microalgae, cultivated by renewable energy company TOLO Green, enables the ecological treatment of air through the biofixation of the carbon dioxide emitted by visitors.

The path also includes an Innovation Space dedicated to technological research, the Second Sun and Second Moon digital installations by Enel X which create a crescendo of light effects closely linked to the visitors’ emotions in real-time, and the Theatre of Memory with a 3D-printed copy of Michelangelo’s David developed by the Museum of the Galleria dell’Accademia of Florence and the Ministry of Culture in partnership with the Department of Civil and Environmental Engineering at the University of Florence. The ground floor of the pavilion features the “Solar Coffee Garden”, a cafe designed by CRA and Italo Rota for leading coffee company Lavazza.

CRA and Italo Rota also designed an installation for global energy company Eni, titled “Braiding the Future”, which focuses on biofixation of carbon dioxide. It recreates a microalgae cultivation using a spectacular cascade of 20-meter-high technological liana vines. Within each of the luminescent lianas flow the microalgae: the see-through circuit becomes a spectacular interpretation of the production technology of these unicellular organisms, which produce high-value compounds through a natural photosynthesis process.

The technology of intensified biofixation of carbon dioxide that inspired the installation was developed in Italy by Eni, Politecnico di Torino, and start-up Photo B-Otic. It allows the intensive cultivation of microalgae through photobioreactors, lit through LED technology optimized on specific wavelengths. Located at the entrance of the pavilion and suspended at full height over a body of water, the installation is a clear reference to Eni’s concrete commitment towards a sustainable future, including possible fixation and enhancement of carbon dioxide. It represents the next chapter in the company’s design collaboration with CRA and Italo Rota, which is dedicated to exploring new materials and solutions for the built environment.

The rest of the Italian Pavilion also includes materials that were chosen in line with the circular approach, developed in collaboration with Mapei, which manufactures chemical products for the building industry. Coffee and orange peels left to dry and reduced to powder, are used to coat the suspended pathways and walkways. The pavilion itself rests on a dune five meters above ground level, made out of locally sourced sand. Moreover, the path inside the Italian Pavilion is enriched by a series of green elements from more than 160 different species that live inside the building. Developed in collaboration with Italy’s National Research Council (CNR) and botanist Flavio Pollano, this natural landscape pays tribute to the biodiversity and ecological beauty of the Italian and Mediterranean territories. Particular attention is given to the role that plants play in stopping desertification.

Hailed from the start as one of the most recognizable designs at Expo Dubai 2020, the Italian Pavilion has won the prize for the Best Entrepreneurial Project of the Year at the prestigious Construction Innovation Awards that are given every year in the country hosting the Exposition. The pavilion will be open for six months, with hundreds of arts and business events scheduled for the space during this time.

QUOTES FROM THE DESIGNERS

“Our design for the Italian Pavilion deals with what I believe is architecture’s most important challenge today: advancing the double convergence between the natural and the artificial. It anticipates issues and suggests strategies that will be increasingly crucial for the future of our cities as we address the consequences of the current climate crisis,” says Carlo Ratti, founding partner of CRA practice and director of the MIT Senseable City Lab at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). “The pavilion keeps mutating into different forms. It speaks about reconfigurability both in the long term, because of its circularity, and in the short term, thanks to its use of digital technologies.”

“The Italian Pavilion has large dimensions and a very sophisticated structure, but more than an architecture in the canonical sense it is a large experimental installation focused on the increasingly blurred boundaries between the natural and the artificial. Its construction is equally inspired by natural biotypes and the most advanced technologies that come from space research,” says Italo Rota, founder of Italo Rota Building Office:

“On the one hand, the building looks at the organization of tropical forests, where light filters through a high canopy and life is organized accordingly. On the other hand, a crucial theme is the production of neo-materia: new construction materials that have an organic and biological origin, whose technological production is not to be mistaken with recycling. Since the pavilion was conceived in a circular way, one can think of this neo-materia as materials that one can potentially be reused anywhere, in different forms and with different purposes. The Italian Pavilion represents almost a sort of ‘architectural banking’: a catalog from which to choose the elements of future architecture.”

“After the design of the Expo Milan site in 2015, it was very interesting for me to participate in the design of a national pavilion for Expo Dubai,” says architect Matteo Gatto. “Representing Italy is never easy, but I believe that the theme of travel and the technology that we developed to execute the concept, and then for the project itself, have managed to well represent the complexity of our country, which is rooted in its history and projected towards the future.”

“Supporting a roof made of three overturned hulls was a real structural challenge. After a careful analysis of the main goals of the architectural project, F&M Ingegneria took care of the structural and plant design, proposing a functional integration between the two disciplines. This solution allowed us to optimize costs and construction work, ensuring the comfort of the pavilion without affecting the overall aesthetics.

The management of engineering work, entrusted to F&M, was particularly demanding in liaising with local companies and workers. But that allowed us to achieve the set goal, ensuring compliance with delivery times”, says Sandro Favero, founder of F&M Ingegneria. “A cross-disciplinary coordination of the project between F&M and the design team allowed for effective and punctual work, along with coordination with the operators on site during the execution phase. The BIM model was implemented in high efficiency from design to construction, allowing us to oversee the process.

The large spaces available on the first deck, called “the great dune”, with large facades without any pillars and the architectural structure entirely exposed, are the result of sophisticated structural analysis conducted by our specialist engineers. The complexity of the construction site that required careful planning in each phase, as well as the creation of highly complex geometric artifacts, have been a challenge for us, which we overcame with great success,” comments Federico Zaggia, Partner and Project Director at F&M Ingegneria.

DESIGN CREDITS

1) Italian Pavilion at Expo Dubai 2020

Dubai, UAE 1 October 2021-31 March 2022

Architecture design: CRA-Carlo Ratti Associati and Italo Rota Building Office, with Matteo Gatto and F&M Ingegneria

Photo credits: Michele Nastasi

CRA team: Carlo Ratti, Francesco Strocchio (Project manager), Monika Löve (Project manager), Luca Bussolino, Mario Daudo, Serena Giardina, Ina Sefgjini, Nicola Scaramuzza, Giovanni Trogu CRA Graphic Team: Gary di Silvio, Pasquale Milieri, Gianluca Zimbardi Past team members: Saverio Panata, Andrea Fasolo, Alberto Geuna, Gerolamo Gnecchi, Francesca Marino, Lucia Miglietta, Marco Maria Pedrazzo, Davide Ventura

Italo Rota Building Office team: Italo Rota, Francesca Grassi Past team members: Francesco Lato, Omid Mohammad, Gilberto Piano, Sammy Zarka

Matteo Gatto team: Matteo Gatto, Stefano Monaco, Barbara Corli, Valentina Rizzo Past team members: Paolo del Toro, Edoardo Perani

F&M Ingegneria team: Sandro Favero, Federico Zaggia, Luigi Ranzato, Lorenzo Colarusso, Nicola Ros, Federico Moro, Antonio Nuzzo, Mauro Baessato, Davide Pizzolato, Dino Casagrande, Marco Furlanetto. Past team members: Francesca Favero, Luca De Antoni, Dhebora Gambaro, Francesco Mason, Alessandro Palamidese, Luca Sangiorgi, Paola Zisa, Mirco Zuin, Alessandro Bonaventura, Marco Bonaldo, Francesca Bertuzzo.

Scenography design consultant: Alessandro Camera Video and Multimedia Consultant: AGMultivision (Tiziano Alessandro Testoni) Lighting Design Consultant: Luminae Lighting Design (Lorenzo Bruscaglioni) Sound Design Consultant: P2A Design (Alessandro Pasini, Simone Fagnani, Paola Renda) Wayfinding Consultant: 100km studio (Luigi Farrauto) Graphic Consultant: studio FM milano Landscape Consultant: CNR (Silvia Fineschi, Roberto Reali, Francesco Carimi), GMP Studio (Flavio Pollano, Rachele Griffa)

2) Braiding the Future

An installation for Eni by CRA-Carlo Ratti Associati and Italo Rota Building office

CRA team: Carlo Ratti, Antonio Atripaldi (Partner in charge), Chiara Borghi, Luca Giacolini, Nicola Scaramuzza CRA Graphic team: Gary di Silvio, Pasquale Milieri, Gianluca Zimbardi Past team members: Saverio Panata

Italo Rota Building Office team: Italo Rota, Francesca Grassi

Fabricator: Carli Produzioni S.r.l.

3) Solar Coffee Garden

An installation for Lavazza by CRA-Carlo Ratti Associati and Italo Rota Building office

CRA Team: Carlo Ratti, Andrea Cassi (Partner in charge), Luca Giacolini, Nicola Scaramuzza, Giovanni Trogu CRA Graphic team: Gary di Silvio, Pasquale Milieri, Gianluca Zimbardi Past team members: Saverio Panata, Alessandro Tassinari

Italo Rota Building Office: Italo Rota, Francesca Grassi Past team members: Francesco Lato

Fabricators: Eurofiere s.p.a. (Luca Bertoletti, Fabio Capelli) Makr Shakr (Alessandro Peretti Griva, Carlo Turati, Luca Cianfriglia)

COMPANY PROFILES

CRA-Carlo Ratti Associati

CRA-Carlo Ratti Associati is an international design and innovation practice based in Turin and New York. Drawing on Carlo Ratti’s research at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), the office is currently involved in many projects across the globe, embracing every scale of intervention from furniture to urban planning. Among recent designs are the Italian Pavilion at Expo Dubai 2020, CapitaSpring Tower in Singapore, MEET Digital Arts Center in Milan, the Eyes of the City exhibition at the 2019 Bi-City Biennale of Architecture and Urbanism of Shenzhen, and the redesign of the Agnelli Foundation HQ in Turin. In March 2020, CRA initiated CURA (Connected Units of Respiratory Ailments), a global open-source initiative to convert shipping containers into plug-in Intensive-Care Units for COVID-19 patients. CRA is also the only design firm whose works have been featured three times in TIME Magazine’s “Best Inventions of the Year” list – respectively with the Digital Water Pavilion in 2007, the Copenhagen Wheel in 2014, and Scribit in 2019. In the last years, the office has been involved in the launch of Makr Shakr, a startup producing the world’s first robotic bar system, and Scribit, the write&erase robot. www.carloratti.com

Carlo Ratti

Carlo Ratti (1971, Turin), an architect and engineer, is a founding partner of the international design and innovation practice CRA-Carlo Ratti Associati and teaches at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), where he directs the Senseable City Lab. A leading voice in the debate on new technologies’ impact on urban life and design, Carlo has co-authored over 500 publications, including The City of Tomorrow (Yale University Press, 2016, with Matthew Claudel), and holds several technical patents.

His projects combine a scientific approach with a humanist perspective, and have been exhibited in several venues worldwide, including the Venice Biennale, Rome’s MAXXI, Barcelona’s Design Museum, London’s Science Museum and New York’s MoMA. Listed by Wired as one of the “50 people who will change the world,” Carlo Ratti serves as co-chair of the World Economic Forum’s Global Future Council on Cities and Urbanization, and was nominated chief curator for the Bi-City Shenzhen Biennale of Urbanism\Architecture that will open in Shenzhen, China in December 2019.

Italo Rota Building Office

Italo Rota Building Office is an international architectural office founded by Italo Rota and based in Milano, Italy. With over thirty years of constant and advanced multidisciplinary research, IRBO develops innovative projects where humanistic beauty and sustainability are integrated in fields that extend to contemporary art and robotics.

Aiming at the priority of achieving new living systems for the city of the “extreme present”, IRBO applies the most advanced technologies collaborating with labs, design firms and international universities. The office counts on the balance between art and science in its design research, creating a poetic manifestation that sustains the creation of projects with a new notion of beauty, a notion that according to Gardner “is the capacity of generating interest by a memorable form and an attitude of evoking further explorations.”

Italo Rota

Italo Rota (1953, Milano) is a graduate of the Polytechnic University of Milan. Upon winning the competition to design the interiors of Musée d’Orsay in the 80s, Rota moved to Paris working on many important projects in France among; the renovation of the museum of Contemporary art at the “Centre Pompidou”, with Gae Aulenti, the hall of the French school at Cour Carré of The Louvre museum, the lighting of Notre-Dame Cathedral, the lighting of the banks of the Seine river in Paris and the renovation of the historical center of the city of Nantes.

Rota returned to Milano in the 90s to become one of the leading architects of a new architecture, designing important projects in Italy and the world. More recently, IRBO has designed the civic museums of Reggio Emilia, the new Elatech robot factory in Brembilla, the grand children theatre in Maciachini Milano, the new pavilion laboratory Noosphere at the Triennale di Milano, The pavilion of Kuwait at EXPO Milano 2015, the pavilion of Italian wine and the pavilion of Arts and Foods.

Among IRBO’s symbolic projects, the Museo del Novecento in Piazza Duomo in Milan, the headquarters of Columbia University in New York, the Hindu Temple in Dolvy in India. The office worked on exhibitions in major museums, publications, installations and pavilions, including the Pavilion central theme for Expo Zaragoza 2008. Rota is the Scientific Director of NABA, New Academy of Fine Arts in Milan, lecturer at Shanghai Wusong International Art City Shanghai Academy of Fine Arts, Advisor at the Tsinghua University of Beijing, one of the most prestigious Chinese universities. Italo Rota has been awarded several prizes, including the Gold Medal for Italian Architecture for the spaces public, the Gold Medal to the Italian Architecture for Culture and Leisure, the Landmark Conservancy Prize, New York and the Grand Prix de l’Urbanisme, Paris.

Matteo Gatto

During his career, Matteo Gatto has followed many of Milan’s major projects of urban transformation, has served as Chief Architect of Expo Milano 2015 and has coordinated the design for the venue of Matera2019. Winner of numerous awards and scholarships, he has been published on and writes for various international magazines, is lecturer in many universities and has been an exhibitor at numerous international exhibits.

matteogatto&associati is a creative hub of architects and artistic directors, born from the experience of designing Expo Milano 2015, deeply focused on major events and projects on a metropolitan scale, and on creating experiences and raising emotions and wonder at every scale: from the spoon to the city. matteogatto&associati provides solutions and strategies for major events, urban projects and real estate, design, branding and wayfinding.

F&M Ingegneria

F&M Ingegneria is a leading engineering company in the provision of cutting-edge design solutions in the sector of civil engineering, infrastructures, project management and sustainability. F&M Ingegneria controls F&M Retail, F&M France, F&M East Europe, F&M Middle East, F&M Divisione Impianti and F&M Infrastrutture, with more of 150 experts in the offices in Italy (Venice, Milan, Rome) and abroad (Köln, Paris, Tirana, Dubai and Muscat).

For over 40 years F&M Ingegneria has been offering highly qualified professional services in different building sectors (hospitality, healthcare, historic buildings, offices, residential), infrastructure (maritime works, airport and railway terminals, ports, roads, bridges and underground works) and the project & construction management of prestigious buildings and complex projects. The experience gained, the interdisciplinary approach and the focus on results allow all the F&M group’s companies to act as a guarantee of success for each client. www.fm-ingegneria.com

Photos: Michele Nastasi

Expo 2020 Dubai Italian Pavilion building design images / information received 041021 from CRA-Carlo Ratti Associati Architects

Location: Jebel Ali, Dubai, UAE

Dubai 2020 Expo Pavilions

Dubai Expo UK Pavilion Design: Es Devlin photo by Alin Constantin ; image courtesy of Es Devlin Expo 2020 Dubai UK Pavilion Building

Dubai Expo Swedish Pavilion Building Design: Alessandro Ripellino Architects, Studio Adrien Gardère and Luigi Pardo Architetti photo courtesy of Swedish government Dubai Expo Swedish Pavilion Building

Dubai 2020 Expo Pavilions Design: Santiago Calatrava, Foster + Partners, BIG and Grimshaw Architects image courtesy of architects Dubai 2020 Expo Pavilions

2020 Expo Dubai Luxembourgish Pavilion Design: METAFORM Architects image courtesy of architects 2020 Expo Dubai Luxembourg Pavilion Building

Sustainability Pavilion for Expo 2020 Dubai Design: Grimshaw Architects image courtesy of architects Sustainability Pavilion for Expo 2020 Dubai

Dubai World Expo 2010 Masterplan Design: HOK / Populous Dubai World Expo Masterplan by HOK / Populous

Dubai World Expo

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Hyperloop Pods and Portals Design: BIG-Bjarke Ingels Group image from architects Hyperloop Pods and Portals in Dubai

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doshmanziari · 7 years

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Real-world Analogs for Bloodborne’s Architecture

This is a partial documentation at best; nevertheless, I’d like to share what some casual research has yielded for possible points of inspiration for Bloodborne’s environmental concept artists.

Probably the most inarguable association I’ve found so far. You can see at least a couple of buildings around Central Yharnam modeled on the one depicted in the concept art. Below that is a photo of the Richardson Olmstead Complex. Despite all of the alterations the Bloodborne version makes, the building’s general shape has been preserved, and the towers are unmistakably indebted.

Above is the bridge that links the Upper Cathedral Ward’s manor to the Lumenflower Gardens; below is a painting of the Rialto Bridge. You can find photos of it, but I thought this moonlit picture was especially complementary. Perhaps the largest difference here is the portico; Bloodborne’s moves away from a rusticated single-arched design to one that is tripartite but still vaguely Italian, with a scrolled pediment and allusion to Venetian windows. Thanks go to Richard Pilbeam for providing the screenshot (and several more).

Here’s where the associations become largely a matter of style or hopeful guesswork. Above you see the triumphal archway that leads to your encounter with the Cleric Beast; and below is Philadelphia City Hall. I’m not saying that the latter explicitly informed the former -- just that the arch has the general look of Second Empire designs, and that City Hall’s facade was a convenient comparative point. What throws me off the most about the main (seemingly broken) pediment for Bloodborne’s arch is that all of it is shallow relief sculpture; the tympanum, very unusually, has next to no recession. Makes me wonder if the designers copied a design and didn’t bother volumizing it.

We’re more or less going on silhouettes now. The screenshot is a view from, I believe, the cliffside close to the Cathedral District; the two photos are both of Prague churches, the first St. Vitus Cathedral and the second Church of Our Lady before Týn. What I’m paying attention to here are the towers’ tops. Compare St. Vitus’ main tower’s twin-cupola dome to the building in the lower-left (not extreme left), also sporting miniature onion domes on the corners. And compare Týn Church’s agglomerated spires with that of the closest structure in the screenshot. Again, guesswork, but it‘s the best I can do for now.

This is nothing but a formal comparison. You might think that the rotund structure on the left with arched windows and conical roof set against a gabled wall is an arbitrary design, but it’s in fact the standard design for the exteriors of Romanesque churches’ apses. The photographed church is San Piero a Grado. Bloodborne’s variant is merely taller, turning the form into more of a tower.

And we’re ending on another formal comparison. The screenshot shows a scene from the lower stretches of Old Yharnam, while the photograph shows a gabled side of St. Marien Church in Greifswald. Emphases here are on the steep and significant roofs whose gables are lined with elongated, pointed-arch windows -- or blind niches containing actual windows here and there -- with angular mock turrets interrupting the gables’ sloping roofline. This is a generally Geman and Flemish type of design and interpretation of Gothic principles; you won’t find it in, say, Italy or England during concurrent periods.

#bloodborne #Architecture #videogame architecture #soulsborne #brick by brick

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askauradonprep · 6 years

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Descendants Book Read Along - Isle of the Lost. Chapter 9

- Apparently all Evie’s clothes are blue, as she had to examine them for the party and her mom gave her a three hour makeover. Oh god.

- Evie’s mom is the reason Mal wasn’t invited to the party. Interesting...

- Apparently the Isle goes out of their way to discourage empathy. Of course they do. Look, Isle citizens, it’s one thing to be born without empathy. You can’t help that and it doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person. However, I know for a fact that they also discourage compassion and are discouraging empathy so you can get your kids to be awful to each other so I am seething.

- Apparently Evie does look up to Mother Gothel. Vindication tastes like skittles.

- Apparently Grimhilde has a grudge against Maleficent and that’s why Mal wasn’t invited. So, probably over influence on the Isle. Evie also wonders why her mom thought now was aafe to leave - Evie, there were no guards keeping you in there and people REGULARLY defy Maleficent. I don’t think anyone cares.

- Evie’s used to freaky things in the dark because of her mother’s taste in decor which involved skulls, hidden things with yellow eyes, etc. I am concerned. Also, I don’t know if I mentioned this in earlier chapters, but Evie regularly keeps secrets from her mom when she knows her mom would be mad.

- YUP the closet’s full of fur traps. Ones that can snap your leg in two. Evie tries to open the door but is locked in.

- Evie starts slowly moving through the closet because there’s a door at the other end, accidentally snapping off a couple traps, one of which grazes her knee but the others she dodges.

- She accidentally knocks one which starts setting the others off like dominos, forcing her to run. One almost gets her heel, another one her stocking. Geez, okay, fine, Mal does something genuinely evil, not just grade school bullying. It only took her almost a third of the way into the book. Yes, I’m still making fun of her for mostly being a punk. :P

- Evie gets through the door and walks right smack into a bunch of coats - skunk, sable, mink, ocelot, etc. She freaks for a bit, thinking its a bear, before she realizes it and tries to escape the tangled up furs she’s stuck in. Carlos pulls her out to the other side.

- Evie gets snarky when he asks if she’s okay! She says she is and asks if she won the game. Carlos says Mal’s going to be mad she’s alive. Well, too bad for Mal.

- Carlos sleeps in a dressing room with a bunch of chore equipment on the other side of the fur traps. Eeeeeeek. Cruella, what in the WORLD is wrong with you? Evie even comments that she sleeps better than that and has a real bed! I’m gonna chalk the real bed stuff up to her being sheltered though. That’s not a Cruella thing, that’s a universal poverty thing. Jay doesn’t have a bed either (Although Carlos isn’t sleeping under heavy tv sets that can fall and crush him so...point, Cruella?)

- ‘relatively soft’ pillows. I see that, Evie. So yeah, Evie is also slightly better off than most on the Isle.

- Most houses aren’t insulated for winter. Hell Hall and Evie’s home, both of whom are slightly better off just by size, are not. HOW ARE PEOPLE ON THIS ISLE STILL *ALIVE*?

- Also, when Evie mentions bright sides to Carlos’ room, she calls it cozy and says he’ll never catch a cold if he uses the furs as a blanket. Sick = sucky on the Isle. I do enjoy getting fuel for my head canons. <3

- Carlos isn’t allowed to touch the furs. Of course not. Unless he’s washing or fluffing them I suppose.

- *sigh* Yup. Grimhilde tried to challenge Maleficent’s ‘leadership’ on the Isle and that’s why she wouldn’t invite Mal, because she was jealous nobody followed her. This is ‘unheard’ of. I’m just going to copy paste my rant to @kidofhallowart: Nope, it's too late. It's a third of the way into the book, you can't establish this now. After showing us that there are TEENAGERS who regularly disrespect her. JAY STEALS FROM AND ASSAULTS HER GUARDS REGULARLY. EVIE JUST WALKED OUT THE DOOR. Okay, fine, maybe Grimhilde and Maleficent worked something out, but nobody else knows that. As far as they know Evie just walked out the door one day and flouted Maleficent's so called authority. And even if Maleficent doesn't care about her guards, OTHER PEOPLE will get the idea they can get away with scorning her. Also - even if Maleficent is the sole ruler, she should be REGULARLY fearing for her life and her daughter's life. WHY HASN'T HOOK OR GASTON OR CLAYTON OR SYKES JUST SHOT THEM?! SHE DOESN’T HAVE MAGIC. SHE CAN STILL DIE. tl;dr - Yeah, no, I’m refusing to believe it. You’ve already shown us people regularly disrespect her authority. You’ve already shown us her authority is basically just yelling at people and having lots of minions. Neither of those an undisputed ruler make. The movie’s also show us Mal has her own territory that isn't her mother’s, thereby establishing that yes, there is territory not belonging to Maleficent (and there’s probably others). I’m willing to believe she rules a good chunk, but not the whole Isle and not undisputed. I can believe a lot of people are afraid of her or would rather not cross her but that’s not the same thing as obeying a sovereign ruler. Evie believes it because she was imprisoned at six and Carlos is afraid of her. They can say it all they want, I’m STILL ignoring this. :P

- Evie goes to fix her makeup. Ow.

- Carlos says Mal will get over it. Carlos, honey, Maleficent’s family gets over NOTHING. Evie says that too. She wants to go home and never come out. </3 Screw you, Mal. I love you but screw you in this instance. And Evie knows she won’t be allowed by mom to stay home forever.

- Evie offers to give Carlos her old comforter and thinks that if she ever had a little brother, it wouldn’t be so bad to have a little brother like Carlos. She says it would be ‘tolerable’ but she so clearly thinks it'd be alright. Excuse me, I need to go cry and melt and cry more. She tries to take it back when he stares at her but STILL.

- Carlos accepts because nobody’s ever cared if he was warm or not. Owwwwwwwww. Not that Evie CARES of course - caring is against the rules of Dragon Hall and would turn a person into a laughing stock. Of course. They were just going to throw it out so may as well use Carlos’ home as their dumpster, right? Wink wink.

- Carlos asks if they were going to throw out a pillow too and accidentally admits he’s never owned one. He tries to cover it by saying he’s had many but they had to throw them out. Evie says they were going to throw out a pillow. She blushes and feels a warm, sunny feeling in her chest. The phrase ‘taken over’ sounds like its new to her. It’s called friendship, honey! </3

- Evie asks about his machine so he goes to show her his lab. Outside the party. Honey, Carlos, maybe try to keep that in check? But he holds the door open for Evie which is SUPER CUTE. He lights a candle with a match to see in the weedy backyard. He assures her he doesn’t sacrifice toads which I find concerning about Isle science.

- Carlos has a tree house. So apparently there ARE tress on the Isle. I mean, like, its a Dark Forest which never means anything good. Carlos’ has mini turrets and a balcony to look over the forest. Carlos uses it as a lab so his mom won’t take the chemicals for makeup and hair products. There’s jars, vials and beakers full of neon coloured liquids and a tv with about fifteen different antennas stuck to it. Evie asks what one is and Carlos says he tried to use it to make a sponge when mixed with water (he took it from Chem Lab). He brought her here to see the machine to poke a hole in the barrier though, so lets see it.

- The box doesn’t work - it sputters and dies. Evie points out two wires are in the wrong place and a powerful electric burst knocks them against the wall and to the floor. It bursts through the roof and into the sky. Apparently Maleficent’s name is a swear word (at least to Carlos). They also say ‘Oh my goblins’ on the Isle because why not?

- They head out to the balcony where sure enough, the light burns through the barrier so they see the night sky for the first time. There’s a lightning flash, a supersonic rumble goes through the Isle (how many buildings do you wanna bet got flattened?) and the box beeps. A bunch of Disney channel shows go through them - Dog with a Blog, Liv and Maddie and Mighty Med. So Disney channel and Disney XD shows DO exist in Descendants verse, but as tv shows. Neat! And yes, Carlos screams at the dog on tv. Poor baby. Carlos is proud of discovering all the different shows.

- The box goes dead and presumably the hole closes. But Carlos is so happy it worked, even as he swears Evie to secrecy. He says they could get in real trouble if people found out about the dome. It’s true Auradon would not be happy and they presumably have guards with the garbage ‘supplies’. However, it’d be more likely the others would find out and whoops, Carlos is now forced to work on it 24/7. Evie promises but crosses her fingers behind her back.

- Carlos asks if she wants to go back to the party and she asks if they have to. Carlos concedes its a good point and tells her her favourite show, the one with the Prince of the Week, is on the Auradon News Network in five minutes, which excites her.

- The barrier hole awakens Maleficent’s staff for a second, the most dangerous evil weapon. It also frees Maleficent’s crow familiar and her best (first) friend, Diablo. It ends on the note ‘Evil would fly again’ and ‘Evil lives..’ Oooh, ominous!

#Ask Auradon reads #isle of the lost by Melissa de la Cruz #chapter 9

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